The whine of car tires, a thump and a jerk. Screaming... lots of screaming.. And the crackling of flames. Pain all over my body, and the feeling that I was hanging upside down. Another jerk... yet one more, the screaming around me was interlaced with moans and the smell of blood and iron.
I jumped up clawing at .... at the air. The last thing I remembered was a man who seemed to materialize from the night, and those strange, pulsating shadows clinging to him. My brain, already exhausted, hadn't been able to process the sight, and so it did what it had to: it dispatched me into a deep unconsciousness.
Or had it been something else that made me faint?
I looked around, at the same time patting myself. Then I looked downward, remembering that I'd tried to flee wearing only my underwear.
Which was gone. But now I was wearing a long white dress made of a very thin fabric. It was so thin that I could see my nipples through the fine material. And my bosom was barely covered by two flimsy panels and a prayer. Meanwhile, the sleeves of the dress were wide, but fit closely around my wrists.
Sexual slavery! The thought flashed through my mind. It would explain everything: my being sold and that stuff about a master. The practice happened more than it should, in my corner of the world. But what brazen audacity! Selling women in broad daylight, at work!
I flitted around the room, trying to figure out where I was. Alas, a smooth, opaque cloth shuttered the window, and try as I might, I could not open the heavy door. The rest of the room was pretty ordinary, although there were some oddities, such as a bed of frosted lilac glass and strange vine-like plants that almost totally covered the walls. Rarely, I could glimpse golden walls beneath the vines.
I really wanted to scream and shout, call for help, vent and rage. But I didn't, because I knew that this would probably make things worse. My best bet was to wait for someone to walk in and then make a run for it. My eyes fell on a black and lilac statuette depicting a woman holding a child. I picked it up and nodded to myself. It was nice, heavy, probably carved from stone.
And before long, someone did show up. I'd been sitting on the bed, silently freaking out, so by the time the door swung open, I was ready to spring. The thought that I might be forced into slavery made me break out in a cold sweat, but it also made me mad as hell.
You know, I probably should have tried diplomacy first. Instead, I rushed at the door brandishing the statuette.
Which wasn't smart at all. I fully understood how stupid it was when I was thrown back against the wall. The impact drove the breath from my lungs, even though the vines covering the wall softened the blow, if only a little. The next thing I knew, my hands were forced against the wall, palms out, and the statuette fell to the floor and rolled away. And I screamed, realizing that I was about to go stark raving mad.
Because staring intently at me in a fury was a pair of eyes, inside of which a kind of darkness swirled.
Then I felt a sharp pain in my right wrist, as if it had been burned to the bone. I screamed again and collapsed, having committed to memory the face of my tormentor. It was as if carved out of granite, the features were so sharp.
***
Fainting twice in such a short time is a dubious pleasure. Especially since the first time I had nothing to compare it to.
The second time I fainted, I wasn't out for long. The pain is what woke me up. My right wrist was burning with fire, as if melted polyethylene was dripping onto it. It was like when I was a girl and my friends and I foolishly decided to make a fire in the backyard of the orphanage and melt cartons. At least I hadn't ended up with any scars, back then.
I was incapable of jumping to my feet, and so I slowly sat up. Someone had transferred me to the bed. Probably the same someone who sat opposite me now, in a dark armchair of a strange shape. He sat with folded arms, gazing into space. I remembered his dark, swirling eyes, and lowered my gaze.
"What on earth..." I said involuntarily. Around my aching wrist burned a bracelet. Thin, ornate and bright red.
"That bracelet branded into your flesh indicates that you belong to me." The voice of the speaker was deep, and penetrated the very depths of my soul. It suited him, in terms of his appearance. Pale skin, short dark hair, a straight nose and thin, well-defined lips. He sat wearing only black pants tucked into high boots, as if he wanted me to see that every inch of his body was chiseled as if by Michelangelo: Wide shoulders and narrow hips, a six-pack abdomen and armor-plated chest. My heart was pounding, but certainly not in admiration.
The stranger filled me with an instinctive horror.
"I'm no one's property."
"In this world you are. I bought you from your master."
Ah, it seems the chatter about a sale and a master had ceased being fun and had morphed into a real problem.
I took a deep breath and, as calmly as I could, said, "Until right now, I always thought of myself as a contemporary kind of person, you know, free."
As I spoke, I felt the fine hairs rising on my arms. I mean, how to act around someone who thinks he bought me? What I wanted most of all was to get as far away as possible. But, remembering the force that threw me against the wall, I did not dare risk flight.
The man finally deigned to look at his 'property.' And I blinked, trying not to gasp. The darkness no longer filled his eyes. Instead, I saw a dark golden iris with a narrow cat-like pupil. The man grinned, and the pupil became ordinary.
What was going on? Was it some kind of trick?
"You signed a contract at work. According to our laws, your employer is your master. I bought you from him."
"They will be looking for me."
It was good we were talking. The longer we talked, the longer I put off the possibility of being raped.
The man's narrow lips twitched slightly, as if my response amused him. "But of course, they look for everybody. Especially people who were brought up in an orphanage and favored books over friends. Aurora Black, I spent days learning all about you."
His nostrils flared, as if he had caught a scent. "I'll call you Rory."
"And I'm supposed to call you what, 'master'?" I asked sarcastically. "What the hell am I here for?"
"Good, you're not hysterical. You have a strong psyche ... almost like ours. Let's talk, you must have a lot of questions, right Rory?"
"Aurora," I said through clenched teeth, "I'm not a dog whose name you can change on a whim."
"No, you're not. You are my property."
I made a mental note to myself to stay calm — anger is not the way to respond to someone who was clearly insane. And it's obvious that this was the case. Although his tones were measured, he seemed to be barely contained, like a dam about to burst.
"My name is Doran. I am the Leader of the Wild Hunt, the Judge of the Three Courts and the Lord of Shadows."
Alright then, at least he's not Napoleon. I silently hid my face in my hands and laughed. I laughed about the situation I found myself in, about my own foolishness, about everything. Where had I gone so wrong as to end up who-knows-where in the company of crazies?
Strong fingers grabbed me above the elbow. Doran managed to do this without making a sound. "Come here."
"No!"
I didn't want to go anywhere with him, I didn't want to be touched. But Doran easily dragged me to the window, although I struggled and kicked at him.
"Stop that!" he said, intercepting my hand, ready to hit him. My efforts were futile, but I still tried to break free.
"Look, Rory, just look."
Doran easily held my hands behind my back and pulled me against him. I squirmed, but he forced me to stand in front of the window. My bare back was pressed against his bare chest, which was so hot I recoiled. Was he sick? Was he raving because he was feverish?
The dark surface of the window dimmed and disappeared, giving way to limpid transparency.
And I caught my breath. This was impossible!
Doran's residence towered over the surrounding edifices, and so the city was spread out in a panorama. Strange, freakish. My head began to pound, and my stomach churned. The more I gazed at the lilac and white buildings, the more my head whirled. The city breathed with a kind of insanity, there was no other way of putting it. There wasn't a single straight line, rather, it was a tangle of buildings and streets that seemed to breathe. I didn't see a single tree, nor any kind of green spaces. But there were numerous large statues, and when I looked at them, the nausea was unbearable, although at first glance I couldn't see why. They were abstract carvings from dazzling white stones with dark veins.
"Let go of me...," I gasped —I couldn't take it anymore. Doran silently released me, and even took a step back. And I fell to my knees, shaking and heaving, although my stomach was empty and I could only vomit bile.
Strange, but after that I felt a lot better, and the throbbing in my temples even subsided. Now my head felt more like a bubbling cauldron, which was, somehow, an improvement.
But why had I reacted so physically at the mere sight of a city?
"Don't tell me that you have heightened radiation in the atmosphere," I moaned, trying to catch my breath. "It's..."
"I know what radiation is," Doran interrupted. I literally creaked as I turned my head, and saw that he was standing two steps away. He was looking at me with interest and approval. "Do you feel better now?"
I listened to my body and nodded uncertainly. Better – at least the nausea had passed. My head was still pounding, plus waves of weakness rolled over me, but that could be because of the stress I was under.
"I think you'll be fine in a week," Doran 'comforted' me and added: "Or sooner, if I deem it so."
Deem? Deem?!
"Where am I?"
"Ruadh — the city of the Sluagh, Shadows and Chaos. One of the three Faerie Courts."
I couldn't hold it back – I giggled hysterically. Maybe I'd been drugged with some kind of stuff — what was it that caused hallucinations like this? Or, was I actually in a coma after an accident? This just couldn't be real!
"You are not asleep, nor are you mad," Doran seemed to have guessed my thoughts. "In the latter case, I would have to kill you, since you would be useless to me."
"Is that so?"
"It is." He approached again, and I did not have time to recoil before I was jerked to my feet, turned back toward the window, and forced to look at the lilac-white breathing city. For a moment, the nausea rolled over me again, and then it immediately disappeared.
"Ruadh is partially subordinated to Chaos," Doran's voice above my ear vibrated deep into me. "Not every human mind can handle the sight of the city. If you don't claw at your eyes and don't beat your head against the floor, then your prognosis is good."
"So you weren't sure that I could handle it?"
"No, I wasn't sure."
My hands twitched from the desire to slap him. Alas, I lacked the strength and realized that, anyway, he definitely had the upper hand. He was in his element, while I could barely stand, I was so weak.
"When you accept a job, Rory, you should take the time to read the terms of the contract."
"I don't recall anything about selling employees," I managed to snap. I couldn't resist looking at the city, even though I had no desire to. It was like being drawn to something that both repelled and fascinated at the same time.
Get away from me already! I thought. I wanted to be sitting on the floor instead of standing as I was, literally in an embrace with a stranger, a rogue. Whose fingers burned through the thin fabric of my dress, and whose visage frightened me. Not to mention his conduct.
"Sometimes you have to read the fine print. In your case, it was written that the employer has the right to send the employee to higher organizations at his discretion and for an indefinite period."
I involuntarily swore. I had read that clause in my contract, and I could never have imagined such a twisted interpretation.. "So now what? Why am I here? Is this a harem? Am I your sex slave?"
Then I exhaled and shouted, releasing all of my accumulated tension:
"What the hell am I doing here?"
"For work," Doran replied calmly. Apparently, he thought he had something resembling a sense of humor.
"What kind of work? Enough puzzles, I hate them unless they fall under my specialty! If my professional skills are what is needed, why not just ask me for help?"
"The Sluagh have never asked for help!" growled Doran.
He turned me towards him again. His iron fingers clasped my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes, which again were clouded in darkness. "If I buy someone, no one will suspect anything. If someone comes to me voluntarily, it means that we are in an alliance. Or that he, or she, is valuable to me. And then that person's days are numbered. Do you know why? Because attachment — is weakness. And we are always on the lookout for any signs of weakness in each other."
I breathed quickly and raggedly, afraid even to lift an eyebrow. I just looked into the completely opaque eyes and listened to the hoarse, growling voice.
"I bought you, Rory, to ensure that you stay alive. Therefore, it is in your interest to submit to me. In Ruadh, without me, you would not last a day. Now, here is my first order: Go to bed and lie there until you stop puking and come to your senses. You will be looked after. I will try to see to it that you adapt quickly. And then we'll sit down and talk. And, by the way, you humans, you know nothing about me and those I rule."
He pushed me to the side, causing me to land rather clumsily on the stone floor. And, wide-eyed, I watched what ensued.
"I am the King of the Wild Hunt and the Court of Shadows."
Doran's voice growled and lowered to a hiss. Strange shadows swirled around him. Absolutely black and terrifying.
"I am he who lives on the edge of Chaos, and in alliance with him."
The shadows slid along his long legs, wrapping around his waist.
"And therefore I can preside in all of the Courts. For only Chaos is neutral and indifferent to everything. It alone confers the right to render a verdict."
The shadows thickened into flickering shaggy manes with glowing red eyes. The grotesquely twisted muzzles of horses lengthened, replaced by no less grotesque dogs. And all this was delivered in a quiet sort of howling voice that pierced my soul. I didn't realize it at first, but I was sort of howling, too, as I scooted away from him as fast as I could. I felt the leaves of the vines on the wall against my bare back, closed my eyes, and put my hands over my ears. I wanted to block out this nightmare.
I was in serious trouble.