he also knew they would do as he bid them. They were aware of the consequences of failure, and they had no independent will of their own. And tonight he intended to feed to his heart’s content.
He watched Sofira depart with a stir of anticipation. The pleasurable fulfillment he would savor tonight was only one aspect of his new life. Soon, once he had full control and could relax his guard a little, he would sample once more the other pleasure, the darker pleasure, and he would have his fill.
He was fairly quivering with anticipation when the call finally came. He moved to the heavily secured door that led to the outer courtyard and slowly drew the iron bolts. Without opening the door, he stepped back. The night was clear; there would be starlight. It was not as hurtful as the glow of the moon, but he preferred to avoid it if he could.
In a voice saturated with displeasure at the long wait, he growled, “Come.”
The iron ring that worked the latch turned and the door swung slowly open. As he had instructed, they had two captives. Both were tightly bound, their mouths stopped with cloth and rope. They were fully conscious. Reen could tell this without the benefit of functioning eyes. He could taste the fear, smell the terror. Then his heart swelled. They had done it! They had fulfilled his request to the letter. Fighting down the urge to crow with unholy glee, Reen rasped, “Bring them in.”
The two men dragged their struggling captives into the abyssal gloom. Reen closed the door swiftly, the knowledge of what was to come enabling him to bear the feeble spark of starlight that prickled his withered skin. His servants jumped as the door closed; they hadn’t seen him move.
The younger of the two spoke in a dull, lifeless voice. “We have done as we were bid, master.”
“Yes,” rasped Reen, mounting excitement flooding his voice, “you have done well. Bring them through here.”
The scarecrow moved across the room and opened another door leading into a short corridor. At the end of this, in another small room, a muted flicker of firelight showed. Despite his unnatural condition, Reen still felt the cold, especially when he was weakened by hunger. Firelight was less painful than the light of sun or moon and he could endure its low glow with no great effort. After all, it had been Fire of a sort which was mainly responsible for his present condition.
His two servants, faces blank, said nothing, manhandling their captives down the corridor and into the small room.
“Secure them,” grated Reen, feeling sullen ruby points of light glow deep within his eyes.
Avoiding his demonic gaze, the two men deftly secured their whimpering prisoners to the iron rings set into the walls, retying the bonds so that each captive was fastened hand and foot to the rings and unable to move their limbs. The cloths in their mouths remained.
“Now get out.”
Without a backward glance, the men fled the dreadful room, closing the door soundlessly behind them. Reen dismissed them from his mind. He could easily recall them when the time came to clear way the debris of his feast. He moved slowly to stand before his two captives.
They were both male, as he had specified, and both were relatively young. They appeared strong and healthy, and he recognized the fire of resistance in their eyes as well as the fear of the unknown. They weren’t tall—Roamerlings never were—and they had the tanned, swarthy skin of their race, their dark eyes made darker still by the absence of whites. Reen amused himself for a moment trying to guess which one of them was gifted, which of these unnatural creatures from beyond the Veils held the knowledge he intended to absorb.
He stepped closer to the one on his left and extended a hand. The dark, terrified eyes watched him. He was not hiding his true aspect as he did with Sofira, and the trembling Roamerling flinched in horror as the withered, claw-like hand grasped his shirt and violently ripped the
He watched Sofira depart with a stir of anticipation. The pleasurable fulfillment he would savor tonight was only one aspect of his new life. Soon, once he had full control and could relax his guard a little, he would sample once more the other pleasure, the darker pleasure, and he would have his fill.
He was fairly quivering with anticipation when the call finally came. He moved to the heavily secured door that led to the outer courtyard and slowly drew the iron bolts. Without opening the door, he stepped back. The night was clear; there would be starlight. It was not as hurtful as the glow of the moon, but he preferred to avoid it if he could.
In a voice saturated with displeasure at the long wait, he growled, “Come.”
The iron ring that worked the latch turned and the door swung slowly open. As he had instructed, they had two captives. Both were tightly bound, their mouths stopped with cloth and rope. They were fully conscious. Reen could tell this without the benefit of functioning eyes. He could taste the fear, smell the terror. Then his heart swelled. They had done it! They had fulfilled his request to the letter. Fighting down the urge to crow with unholy glee, Reen rasped, “Bring them in.”
The two men dragged their struggling captives into the abyssal gloom. Reen closed the door swiftly, the knowledge of what was to come enabling him to bear the feeble spark of starlight that prickled his withered skin. His servants jumped as the door closed; they hadn’t seen him move.
The younger of the two spoke in a dull, lifeless voice. “We have done as we were bid, master.”
“Yes,” rasped Reen, mounting excitement flooding his voice, “you have done well. Bring them through here.”
The scarecrow moved across the room and opened another door leading into a short corridor. At the end of this, in another small room, a muted flicker of firelight showed. Despite his unnatural condition, Reen still felt the cold, especially when he was weakened by hunger. Firelight was less painful than the light of sun or moon and he could endure its low glow with no great effort. After all, it had been Fire of a sort which was mainly responsible for his present condition.
His two servants, faces blank, said nothing, manhandling their captives down the corridor and into the small room.
“Secure them,” grated Reen, feeling sullen ruby points of light glow deep within his eyes.
Avoiding his demonic gaze, the two men deftly secured their whimpering prisoners to the iron rings set into the walls, retying the bonds so that each captive was fastened hand and foot to the rings and unable to move their limbs. The cloths in their mouths remained.
“Now get out.”
Without a backward glance, the men fled the dreadful room, closing the door soundlessly behind them. Reen dismissed them from his mind. He could easily recall them when the time came to clear way the debris of his feast. He moved slowly to stand before his two captives.
They were both male, as he had specified, and both were relatively young. They appeared strong and healthy, and he recognized the fire of resistance in their eyes as well as the fear of the unknown. They weren’t tall—Roamerlings never were—and they had the tanned, swarthy skin of their race, their dark eyes made darker still by the absence of whites. Reen amused himself for a moment trying to guess which one of them was gifted, which of these unnatural creatures from beyond the Veils held the knowledge he intended to absorb.
He stepped closer to the one on his left and extended a hand. The dark, terrified eyes watched him. He was not hiding his true aspect as he did with Sofira, and the trembling Roamerling flinched in horror as the withered, claw-like hand grasped his shirt and violently ripped the
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