Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Bodach led Dax Ballar and his twelve brethren through the passages of McKeran’s Castle knowing that the moment he brought them to the dungeons, they would try to restrain and torture him.
He was tempted to permit them to try it, because nothing really equaled the shock and horror of mortals who believed they had the upper hand who then discovered instead that their victim did.
Yet as much as he wanted to enjoy himself, he did need to use the idiots more than he wanted to be entertained by them.
There were also the two young ladies he’d left bespelled outside the gates who would likewise serve his purposes.
By now his spiders would have the situation in the spell trap well in hand, too. Once he finished with the Sons of the Sickle, he’d join his creatures.
He had to walk in and out of the stone wall twice to demonstrate it was an illusion before the mortals followed him down the stairs and into the great room he was using for his observations.
Bodach kept his back to the men as he remounted his viewing scroll on the wall brackets, and then tapped the enchanted parchment.
“Show me the son of Chomha,” he said in a tone of deep gravity, as mortals always expected that.
When Rory McKeran appeared on the scroll he stepped back and smiled at Ballar.
“There, you can all see your many-times-great grandfather, or uncle, or whatever he is. He works as the clan’s armorer.
I’d say he takes after his Fae father in appearance. ”
“Look at the size of that mother,” one of the younger men murmured. “Were they all this big back then?”
“Geez Louise, his hands are as big as my head,” another whispered.
“They’re highlanders, you ninny,” Ballar told them. “Men like them make guys from our time look anorexic.”
“Yeah, but Dax, what if he turns on us?” one of the youngest said. “All thirteen of us couldn’t take down that monster.”
“Shut up, Jimmy.” Ballar slapped him. “I’m sick and tired of listening to your bullshit. Whine one more time and I’ll make you suck his dick when he comes out.” Without warning he turned and punched Bodach in the face. “Same goes for you, Goblin.”
Sucker punches and threats of forced fellatio—is that really the best you have?
Bodach wiped away the blood that had already stopped trickling from his nose. Tonight might not be as entertaining as he’d hoped.
He put on a reproachful look, and said, “I think your tribe would be very ashamed of your pathetic efforts to intimidate a dark Fae.”
“I don’t care what you think,” Ballar said, giving him a sinister smile as he took out a wooden talisman containing a small black stone.
On the stone some ancient druid had etched a symbol of enthrallment through dark magic.
“Now, you’ll serve me henceforth. First bring our ancestor out of there, right now. Then you can suck my dick.”
“That wasn’t our agreement, Mr. Ballar. You said you’d keep your word to me.” He let the words come out with a pouty whine but stood perfectly still, as if the talisman had actually taken control of his body. “I can’t help you if you keep me like this, either.”
“You’re a sorry excuse for a Goblin,” Ballar told him, and took out a pair of handcuffs. “Jimmy, get out the cattle prod. I want to make sure he can’t break free.”
“Yes, Jimmy, do,” Bodach said, flicking a little power at the younger man. As soon as he removed the device from the duffel that he carried he smiled. “Now show your fearless leader how it works, please.”
The other Sons of the Sickle tried to stop Jimmy after he gave Ballar a good prodding, but Bodach murmured the spell he’d prepared to open the cell doors.
The ropes he’d enchanted snaked out around each mortal’s ankles, cinching around them and jerking them backward, knocking them face-first onto the floor.
The ropes then dragged each man into the cells, which slammed shut and locked their own doors.
As the Sons of the Sickle shouted for help, Bodach stopped pretending to be paralyzed and went over to inspect Ballar, who lay writhing on the ground.
“How could you do this to us?” the mortal gasped.
“It’s nicer than what you had planned for me, my boy.
Your bitches were most informative in that regard.
Also, just for future reference, if you want to use a druid talisman to control another person, they have to be mortal, and you have to be the one who enchanted it.
” He slapped Ballar in the same way he had Jimmy, to whom he said, “Give me that device, please.”
“I’m going to cut you into pieces, an inch at a time,” Ballar promised, whining the words and trying to crawl away from him.
“Alas, you’re not.” After using the cattle prod one more time for good measure, he gestured to the slack-faced Jimmy.
“Take him with you into that empty cell there and tie him up tightly. Oh, and tie him up well, dear boy, because when he regains consciousness, I’m going to have him suck your dick for a change. ”
Bodach went upstairs whistling, and added another layer of enchantment to the concealing wall illusion to stop any sound from escaping the dungeons.
If he waited too long some of the Sons of the Sickle would die of thirst before he could feed them to his crystals, and he couldn’t risk releasing them again.
He would have to harvest plenty of red crystal from his sea cave and bring them here to devour his prisoners.
Outside the gates the young women drivers were now standing and staring through the bars with anxious expressions.
Both bore a passing resemblance to Ava Travars, Bodach decided now that he could see them in the lamp light, which amused him.
It seemed the FBI agent really was one of Ballar’s extended family.
Bodach didn’t bother with changing his guise as he opened the gates.
“I took care of your masters for you,” he told them. “They’re locked up in the dungeons for now. Come and see.”
“Did you make Dax suffer?” the one with the black eye asked as they walked back with him to the castle.
“I thought I’d wait until you could be there to watch.” He grinned at her. “The fun is only just beginning, ladies. I’ll need you to babysit the boys while I’m working in another dimension, but you should enjoy that, too. Tell me, have either of you ever used a cattle prod on a man’s testicles?”
Esme expected to get a lot of attention as she walked with Darro through the passages, but the guards just stood at their posts and didn’t look at them as they went by.
Up on the rooftop she saw lanterns hung high in the rafters of the solar, casting a soft glow on the plants inside.
He asked her to wait there a moment, going back into the shadows before returning.
When they walked in she smiled as she took in the rearrangement of the space; he’d turned it into a bedroom, including a big, comfortable-looking bed.
“You neednae stay here tonight, my lady,” Darro said as he closed the door. “I’ve taken to sleeping here to avoid the torches.” He looked inside a small sack he was carrying.
“What’s that?” Esme saw something she hadn’t noticed until now and went to him. “You have a bruise on your face.” She gently touched the darkening spot. “What happened?”
“The sack is some arrowheads made of a stone Rory bid me find. Farlan left them outside the solar for me.” His mouth hitched. “My bruises came from the laird. I brawled with my brother over you.”
“You and Tasgall fought because of me?” Why did that thrill her? “Couldn’t you just talk it out?”
“We did for a time, and shall again on the morrow,” he said, stepping back from her and setting aside the sack. “The laird released me from my duties so I could speak with you.”
An odd sound came from the door to the solar, as if someone were trying to get in. Esme frowned as Darro went over to look, and then tried the door.
“The latch, ’tis jammed,” he muttered.
As she went to join him Esme saw the white mist drifting over to the watch tower, and suspected the spirit of Torra MacBren had decided to lock them in.
“I don’t have to go,” she told him sweetly. “I can spend the night here with you.”
“’Twas no’ my intention, bringing you here.” He took hold of her hand as if it were made of glass. “Remember I’m twice your size. ’Twould be naught for me to–”
Esme gripped his hand and hauled him over to the bed, where she pushed him down onto his back.
“No,” she said as he tried to sit up. “Be quiet, and don’t move.
I don’t trust you. You’ll get nervous and smash the glass and run away from me again.
No more talking. You may not think you want this, but you do.
I’m not scared of you, either.” She thumped her fist against his chest. “You give me any trouble, and I’ll beat you up. ”
He nodded and pressed his lips together as if trying not to smile.
“That’s the way, mi vida. Let me be in charge. You’ll be much happier.” Lifting the hem of her shift out of the way, she climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and perching on top of the bulge of his cock. “This always seems to happen when you touch me. Why is that?”
“’Tis you, Esme.” He brought his hands to the sides of her thighs and held them. “You’re mo chridhe.”
In that moment Esme knew she was in trouble.
Darro McKeran had another secret, in that he could make any woman fall for him with just a few words.
Despite everything that had conspired to keep them apart he’d found his way into her arms, and soon he’d take possession of her heart along with her body.
When she left him—and she would someday—it was going to tear her to pieces.
I don’t care. Tonight is for us.