Morgentus entered the chamber of his prince. The remains of the once powerful ruler still lay on the slab, oozing black blood. The sacerdos chained to it had passed out, the thread of his life flickering. Belial used what he could of this man, but another offering was needed. Morgentus set the tabernacle between the prince's feet. The blood pooled around it and the glow of the atman grew brighter as they gave up their energy. Morgentus chuckled and went to the dried-up human. He wrenched the bio vessel arm free of the restraints, tearing the flesh and breaking bones. The old man was spent to the point that he did not make a sound at the wounding. Morgentus dragged him aside, leaving a trail of blood through the dust. He let him fall against the flat stones and lie in a heap, giving a disgusted frown. It wasn't even worth digging through the remains to find the atman.
Morgentus returned to the bier again. The features on the detached head appeared pleased. He healed nicely, though slowly. These four trapped souls would help. A tremor upset the air. Morgentus's eyes searched the shadows. He listened to the whispers.
Motioning to Segrius, Morgentus called his underling to him from the shadow of the doorway. Segrius skulked into the room. Gnashing his teeth and tasting the air, he sought out the intruders who came to feast on the weakened prince. Morgentus waited until the serpent drew near enough.
"Have your soldiers watch the prince's keep. Tell them not to venture to this tower unless something threatens him. They are to discipline any who dare feed here," Morgentus instructed.
"Yes, Baron," Segrius hissed.
"He's weak, but don't be fools. He'll make you his supper before you take one sip of his blood," Morgentus said.
The shade set his claw hands on the edge of the bier and regarded the prince. Morgentus waved him back, threatening to strike. Segrius licked the blood from his hands. It was a chance placing serpents on such duty, but he had to be sure he kept Belial safe and away from help that didn't come from his baron's hand alone. The longer the prince took to heal, the better it was for the plans he forged with Prince Gediel. He knelt beside his master and touched the crown longingly. At least the soldiers he placed here weren't strong enough to harm or to destroy the prince, and they might serve as food to restore him if they ventured too close.
"My prince," Morgentus whispered. The face remained still. "I brought you the atman I promised. Take it into consideration when you wake, that I was the only one who dared to raise a hand to restore you. Where are your guardians and flatterers now?"
The air shuddered in answer. Morgentus tread close to upsetting Belial. He pushed up from the bloody bier and walked away. This much was done. Now, he meant to return to the depths of Acheron to pay his respects to the bastards that denied him his erela.
"Gather your forces and report to me at the seal," Morgentus said to the crouching minion chewing on the foot of the priest.
Segrius hissed in answer.
A cold stickiness besmeared Morgentus's hands. They were covered in blood from the bier. He licked the side of his hand with uncontrolled hunger. A flash of crimson melted the black of his eyes. For a moment, he wavered between the craving in his gut and the lust burning him black. With the power of the prince, Maiel could be his in the matter of one night on Earth. He could steal her tiny form to the depths of his labyrinth, never to be seen again.
The castle tower shook as though it would collapse. Both Morgentus and his lackey rushed from the room. A pile of rubble fell before the door, barricading the entrance. Morgentus cursed. The prince wasn't as weak as he surmised. Morgentus too quickly took for granted his state, and took no caution to guard his thoughts. Cursing, he tried the rubble blocking the door, placing his hands upon the stones to leverage them out of the way. He needed both princes on his side to achieve his goals. Belial couldn't cut him off like this, not when the plans were so tender and young.
Morgentus bared his teeth at the blockade. For now, he would let Belial have his way. Lifting his wings, Morgentus stepped from the stairs, reappearing in intervals until he found the door of his labyrinth. His speed continued as he rushed through the passage of lanterns and past the courtyard. He burst through the doors of his great house, the dark interior enveloping him. He continued his mad pace toward a great stone, which scraped aside to reveal a set of stairs that spiraled down.
The stink of the serpents lay thick in the deep of the lair. Far below the heights of the condemned, Morgentus entered the cave where his soldiers brought the prizes from Earth. He eyed the wounded guardians a moment. Then, he stuck his fingers in several of their wounds, delighting in their agony. When that had little effect on his mood, he ordered them to be staked at the entrance for their compatriots to take back. He wanted no further trouble from the dutas, and they couldn't touch him so long as he didn't have the treasure they sought.
The soldiers dragged the baron's prisoners away amidst protests and declarations of revenge. He clucked his tongue at them, reminding them that revenge was something he was more skilled at than they could imagine. They should be thankful for his kindness. Their stares made him laugh. The stubbornness of duta was renowned.
His mood somewhat abated, Morgentus continued deeper into the dungeon of his mansion. The drip of water was the only sign of a connection to a waking world. The silence pressed in on all sides, and the dark hid the path. There were things below the levels of Jahannam that no one even knew about, except him. For centuries he wandered the mazes, so adept at their navigation he could do it backward with his eyes closed. He thought of those who attempted the same and were lost, to become nourishment for the monsters hidden in the caves.
Passing beneath several wraiths who guarded the passage from intruders, the baron came to an iron gate scrawled with the runes of the danava. He pushed them open and entered a fire-lit room, roughly hewn from the stone. Candles burned on steps along the walls. In the center rested a bed of satin. Heavy chains dangled from the corners. Above it was an iron cage. Two white forms snaked around each other, arms and legs fighting for room and an escape. Their voices shrilly whined a lament at his return.
Morgentus paused to enjoy the view of them trapped above his bed. A coy smile curled his lips and his eyes ignited with fire. They pressed their faces to the bars, the seals on their foreheads blazing and their eyes gone black. The women reached out to him, begging for their freedom and the kindness of their master. Their hair dripped with water. His servants had bathed them, predicting his return and expected desires. Although his wife and Cursia displeased him while he still thought of the red erela, they would sate his need in the interim. But, no amount of bathing could ever make them clean again.
"In good time, ladies, but for now, your master still has need of your services," Morgentus said, looking up at them lustfully.
Their whining renewed and the baron hissed at them angrily. Yanking a lever behind the head of the bed, he opened their prison and dropped them in the middle of the bed. The women struggled to climb off the mattress, but it sunk like quicksand, swallowing them until Morgentus fixed a chain to an arm and leg each.
"Sabereh, after all we have meant to one another," Morgentus said, grasping her by her gold locks. His wife tried to free her hair from his hold, whimpering a plea for mercy. Cursia hid on the other side of the bed, watching with fearful interest. "I hope, darling, that you'll not mind. I've invited your new friend to join us. Considering, Cursia will be the only thing that keeps you alive once I have Maiel, I suggest that you take good care of her."
Sabereh didn't dare to speak. Her frightened eyes peered back into those of the Baron. He shoved her forward on the bed and undid his belt. Penetrating her flesh had once been ecstasy; now it bored him. He threw his fist into her back and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Unrelenting, he pushed her face into the suffocating mattress until he had satisfied himself with her. His desires then moved on to Cursia.
Clawing across the mattress, Morgentus reached for the human he recently acquired from the Ferry Man. She was a prize indeed. She still fought him, willing to chew her own arm off to be free. Cursia pulled at her chains, trying to escape before he grasped her, the panic clear in her rapid motions. The skin grew raw in the struggle. Morgentus gave them a tug, drawing her attention back to him. He wriggled his finger at her and bared his sharp teeth. Her whines were delightful. Hand over hand, Morgentus slowly drew her back to the bed.
"I have a gift for you," Morgentus said.
Cursia wept as he laid a kiss on her forehead. His tongue slipped down the bridge of her nose.
"Don't you want to know what it is?" Morgentus asked, brushing her hair out of her face.
Cursia's eyes went to Sabereh, who lay weeping into the mattress. He smiled shamelessly. These women were so sensitive. He had hardly laid a hand on her. The purple bruise flowering across her spine was nothing compared to the usual marks his lovemaking left. He would have thought them glad to have any attention at all, being locked away in the lonely dark for so long.
"Have you two been getting along?" Morgentus asked.
The baron looked into Cursia's muddy gaze. His jealousy flared and his grip tightened on her arms. She hated him and doubtless she sought to wound him. His nails dug into her flesh. Her blood trickled around his fingertips. She made no sound; hers was just a pained face whose eyes would not leave his.
"I guess that gift will have to wait. Why don't you show me what you two have been getting up to? I'm bored and wish to be entertained."
Morgentus dragged her across the bed until she lay parallel to the other woman. He grabbed Cursia by the chin, and encouraged her with threats. The women lay on the bed, refusing to comply with his wishes. Morgentus fetched a chair from the other side of the room and brought it to rest in view of the bed. He threw himself down and a servant emerged with a stool for his feet. The dark figure backed away, tracked by the dark-haired woman. The shadows hid them, making escape impossible, because even if they freed their bodies from the cages and chains, the servants were at every step to bar passage.
Cursia knelt on the bed trembling with fear. Morgentus raised his brow.
"You want your surprise, don't you?" he asked.
Cursia scrambled back along the bed, making another attempt at fleeing. Morgentus sighed in annoyance. He drew his knife from his belt and went around to where she struggled. He stuck the point of his blade in the back of her knee, slicing the tendon with the precision of a surgeon. She collapsed to the floor with a scream. Morgentus sheathed his weapon and threw her back on the mattress.
"I will ask one more time—nicely—why don't you show me how you've been getting acquainted," Morgentus urged.
This time, Sabereh took the initiative. She drew Cursia to her. The pair held each other, kneeling in the middle of his bed. He circled slowly back to his chair.
"That's better," Morgentus drawled.
"Do as he says, or things will get much worse," Sabereh broke her silence.
Morgentus watched as his wife pressed her mouth to Cursia's. Very quickly, they were in thrall to each other. He neared the bed, hesitating to join them. Their delicacy with each other's bodies fascinated him. The human form responded much better to violence, but they insisted on careful touches. He grit his teeth, wanting to sink them in their fine flesh. His fingers worked, imagining tearing and throttling them until they pleaded for mercy. His desire stirred out of control and he joined them.
Sometime later, Morgentus lay naked on the bed. The gnarled, blackened tissue of a once nasty wound abraded the skin of his side, arching along the flesh from one hip to the other in a gray crescent slightly darker than his dead hue. A smear of blood stretched from the corner of his mouth to his ear. His eyes had transformed to obsidian, no white to be seen, a sign of the deep frenzy in which he was lost. He stared into the cage gaping above him. His wife's feet dangled near his head. The slow pat of her blood dripping on the satin sheets drew his attention. He beheld her golden skin, now paled and scarred by his rage. Bloody teeth marks and bruises patched her corpse. Morgentus reached up and pulled her foot. The motion spun her aside, but her sattva didn't move of its own will. Her eyes stared unseeing at the chair he had sat on.
"Don't be so dramatic, Sabereh," he laughed tugging her down from where he hung her.
The chain dropped from around her neck and let go of the cage. Her sattva collapsed in a motionless heap. He sighed, disappointed that he so easily drained her to the last. It would be many days before she even moved a finger again.
At the foot of the bed, tugs warned of Cursia as she struggled with her bindings. The bow of her pale back faced him, crisscrossed with bleeding welts. Her bloody arm warned him that she had managed to pry free of the wrist manacles. She was now hard at work on the ankle, bruising and cutting her leg.
Morgentus moved like a cat. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and threw her back on the bed. Lying across her abdomen, in which he had carved the seal of his reign, he regarded her, gently petting her matted brown hair and planning his next attentions.
"I haven't finished," Morgentus said.
"You-you said, you have a gift for me," Cursia deftly distracted him.
Morgentus rested his chin between her breasts. He left them unmarked, but drew out his blade, thinking the better of it. Carefully he ran the edge around the outline of each. She trembled with fear, not desire. He preferred it that way. They were so much livelier in refusal than when they were willingly had. He smiled at her. She was a clever girl, not nurturing his desire too much. The perfectly placed question reminded him of other business.
"I do," Morgentus said.
The baron tucked his knife, and then ran his hand along her side and up to her neck. He gave her throat a firm squeeze.
"How would you like to help me bring down the mate of that duta who left you here?"
Cursia's eyes blackened. Her shivers stilled. Her hatred of Gediel focused her, and she easily endured his rough caresses. Morgentus gave a small smile, sliding on top of her. He would have her one more time before he locked her up to heal from his attentions, then he would start his plan and cast her at the feet of the one who would deliver Maiel to his door.
"I thought you might like that," he crooned. Looking into her dead eyes, he saw the way forward. For the revenge against Gediel, Cursia would grant him anything. "Now show me how thankful you are."
Morgentus chuckled as she smiled and gave as he asked. Sometimes his playthings surprised him.
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