Chris saw the chair with the shackles and planted his feet into the ground. There were hands all over him in an instant, but he wasn't going to make their job easy. He turned himself into a squirming hellion. Despite his unruliness, the guards lowered him into the chair. Some held him in place while others began to fasten the shackles.
One of the guards walked away and left Chris with more freedom to thrash. But he returned with a pitchfork and aligned the center tine with Chris's Adam's apple.
Chris put his hands up to declare his surrender. The guard lowered the pitchfork and joined the others, holding, pinning, and then locking Chris's limbs into place. When the last lock clicked, a hideous winged creature landed on his forearm.
"Christopher, you are here today because I am dying to know where your father is. Tell me what you know," said the creature, a tiny woman, all in black.
Chris looked right through her because the capacity in his heart for wonderment was infiltrated with barbs of hatred. He saw the unimaginable, accepted that the never-ending nightmare was as real as he was, heard her "command," and yet he would not, under any circumstances, let the strange surroundings loosen his tongue.
"Don't make me resort to violence," said the black-winged fairy, who had to be the queen the full-grown guards mentioned with fear and awe grossly disproportionate to the stature she possessed. "Or worse."
Still, he said nothing.
"Suit yourself," she said, and then turned to the guards. "Now, my Gray Coats, bring in his children."
"Wait!" Chris cried out.
She gestured for the guards to halt.
"I don't know who or what you are, or why you want to find my father so badly, but . . . what did my children ever do to you?" Chris leaned as far forward as his constraints would allow. "They're just babies. If my father is the reason for all this, I'll track him down myself and kill him with my bare hands!"
"As tempting an offer as that is, I prefer to do things my way, which means you tell me what you know."
Chris leaned back into his chair and looked away. "I don't have a clue where he is."
"I am certain you know more than you are letting on. Just think. I have been seeking vengeance for actions your father took long ago. I came close several years back, and as a result, he fled, abandoning your sick mother. He never told you the truth about his past, and now you are here, and he is not. He will get what he deserves, no?"
Chris let out an angry chuckle. Then he looked right at her and hoped his eyes were as cold and cruel as hers were, though he knew that was impossible. "I see what you're trying to do, but it won't work. I could give you all the sad details, but you and I both know I'm a dead man either way. So why bother?"
"I like you, Christopher MacRae." She cocked her head to the side and sneered. "You're practical and realistic. And right now, you are fighting not only for your life but also for the lives of your children."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Don't try me. In fact, my patience is waning. You have given me nothing, and I see only one reason to keep any of you alive—to lure your father—"
"And what makes you think he'll come?" Chris suddenly shouted. The jerk of his body launched the fairy into flight.
"The children will be the first to go," she continued, her voice even louder than the shrill sound of her wings. "And your brother will follow. Guards, bring them to me!"
At her call, they peered into the torture chamber. Some nodded and left the area, and a few came in to accompany the flying fairy queen on her path to utter iniquity.
"Don't listen to her! She's insane! She's delusional. Evil. . ." Chris's voice trailed off. To deaf ears and hollow souls, it was a waste of breath, even if they could still hear him.
To his surprise, he found himself alone.
Chris zoomed in on one of his wrist shackles. It had a loose screw. He twisted his wrist and hand so vigorously against the metal that he feared the rattling would draw the guards back in. He paused, and although his whole hand was red and raw, he refused to give up. The screw had moved about a centimeter. He had only about two centimeters left to go.
The struggle between the rusty screw and his nearly skinless wrist continued. Chris altered his approach a number of times, and with one last desperate attempt, the screw clanked on the stone below, sending an echo into the darkness.
Hope slipped away from him when two guards returned. They unshackled him without noticing the missing screw and guided him back the way they'd come in. Still, there was urgency mixed with their brutality, and the fairy queen had sent only two escorts, not the six he'd had earlier. He didn't want to get ahead of himself, but maybe there was something left to hope for.
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