Disclaimer: I do not own Inkheart or any of its characters. I only own Kris and Allison.
(A/N: OK, so I have no idea if this story is as good as DimensionalTraveller's "Basta's Pride and Joy" (my fav Inkheart fanfiction) but hey, I tried. (Grumbles) I wish she hadn't left so she could have finished the spin off….But whatever, here's my attempt at a Basta romance. Hope you all like it. It may be a little while before I update.)
24 year old Kristiana 'Kris' MacHowlan wrapped her arms around her legs and stared at the closed door of the "cell" the two men dressed in black had thrown her into earlier. Her silk white blouse's right sleeve had torn near the shoulder, and a small rip was along the seam of her slack's left pant leg. The men had ripped her I.D. badge, which had been hanging from a bead cord around her neck, off before leaving. Now, she sat alone in the cell, alone and terrified. She shut her eyes and recalled her traumatizing morning….
8 Hours Earlier…
"Damn it!" Kris shouted when the Styrofoam cup of coffee began to tip over in the carrier. A few of the men and women she worked with turned and gave her a long stare; she glanced at them and set her face into the meanest scowl she could muster. They looked away as she pressed the cardboard carrier against the bank's wall, drew her knee upward and balanced the cardboard tray long enough to fix the cup. At seeing only a few drops of the dark brown boiling hot coffee had spilled, she calmed and took a deep breath. "Alright, girly, calm down," she muttered to herself.
Like most women in the bank, she was jumpy. Today was the 8th anniversary of the mysterious disappearances. Each year a woman working at the bank, her teenage daughter, or sometimes both would vanish into thin air, only to never be seen again. The bank manager, relatives of the missing person (or persons), and bank employees kept after the police; however, the law officials were just as baffled, and strangely seemed to not want to get involved with the disappearances. It was just as odd as it was unsettling.
"I'd like to open an account," a coarse voice rasped at Kris's best friend, Allison's, desk. Kris placed the carrier filled with five cups of coffee on her desk and grabbed a cup and put it onto Allison's coaster.
"Of course, sir," the young blonde smiled, "If you would just sit…."
Kris glanced over at the man just in time to see him studying her. His face was triangularly shaped with a triangular goatee in middle of his chin; he looked like the Italian version of a cartoon devil. Allison, however, had assured Kris this was a normal style to see in this village, it seemed men here were intent on being 'hip and stylish' and 'slightly' eccentric. Kris nodded to the man and glanced down at her desktop and happiness filled her heart….A plane ticket back to America stared up at her. The foreign banker exchange program had ended, for her at least. The program was started by the Laffite bank's president and CEO back in America to help employees learn firsthand about cultural diversity. Kris had been here now for two years and was more than ready to go home. She hoped her brother hadn't sold her house.
"Actually," the man smiled, "I think I'd rather open an account with her." He exclaimed as he sat down in front of Kris's desk, giving her a toothy grin that sent shivers up and down her spine. She noticed he began tapping his fingers on the wooden arm of his chair and glanced over towards a tall man whose nose looked as if it had been pressed into his face. "Miss?" The man questioned.
"Ah, yes, sorry," Kris replied with a small blush. "Welcome to Laffite bank, my name is Kristiana MacHowlan, but you can call me Kris if you'd like. How can I help you?"
"I'm thinking about starting an account…."
"Well, you've come to the right place," Kris smiled in fake happiness. The bank taught all its employees to act happy so new customers felt welcomed. She didn't want this guy to feel welcomed; she had a bad feeling about him. Something about this man made her stomach churn and her heart pound in fear. She stole a quick glance over at Allison, who was watching her and the goatee-man with an eagle eye. "Now, to start an account sir," Kris continued, "I'll need a name."
"Of course," the man purred, "My name is Mortimer Folchart…"
Three hours and half a lunch break later, Kris was walking back towards the bank wiping the remnants of the spaghetti off her lips. She was very proud of herself; she hadn't gotten any meat sauce on her navy blue jacket. Usually after having spaghetti her suit jacket had a stain in it. The moment she saw the sign for the bank, the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand up; she reached to the back of her neck and scratched as if something had just bit her. She glanced behind her shoulder to see the goatee-man and the flat nose man following her.
"Shit," she hissed under her breath and slowly yet casually reached into her purse, the goatee-man had obviously noticed since he sped up his pace towards her. Kris took a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs, causing many people around her to jump and take notice. It was amazing how only a few hours earlier she hadn't wanted attention, now she needed and craved it for her own personal safety.
The two men behind her paused for a moment, allowing time for Kris to escape into a small comic book shop. Her gaze traveled the store, the teenage boy behind the counter looked up at her with a raised and pierced eyebrow.
"Woah…, Lady are you in trouble or something?" He questioned.
No, I run like this every work day, it gets my adrenaline going, heart pounding, and calories burning….What do you think you ass? Kris pushed the sarcastic thought from her mind, "Ah…I'm on the run from an ex-boyfriend. He's a real nasty fellow, he has triangle shaped face, a goatee, almost like the devil you see in kids cartoons…"
"Oh that dude," The boy replied, "He's like….Right behind you."
Kris sucked in a shaky breath in terror and slowly turned and met the face of the beaming goatee-man. She knew his name was not Mortimer Folchart (that name sounded too good for him).
"Leave me alone," Kris threatened as she slowly backed away.
"If you come with me you'll be saving yourself and me a lot of trouble…." The man replied in his coarse voice.
"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Kris replied as she rapidly shook her head, from the corner of her eye she noticed the teen was pressing a button under the counter. Silent alarm…The police will be here soon. The man backed her into a metal shelf containing several statues and figurines of comic book heroes. She grabbed a clay Superman and smashed its head against the metal. Sorry, Clark.
"Hey! You broke it you buy it!" The Goth teen shouted from the register. Kris ignored him and pointed her weapon at the man.
"Get the hell away from me!"
The man smirked at her and stepped out of the way, Kris suddenly found her weapon knocked to the ground. The flat nosed giant stepped into her field of vision and reached for the back of her neck.
"No!" She threw a statue at him; the giant man didn't even flinch. Kris glanced over to the teen and silently begged him for help.
"He's not going to help you," the goatee-man rasped in a laugh, "He has no reason too. By remaining silent, he just made sure his dear old mommy gets to keep her house."
Kris took a deep breath and glared at the two men before her in anger and terror. She recalled her self defense classes, if all else failed…Faint. She made herself rock back and forth.
"Oy, Cockerell, there's something wrong with her!"
"It's an act!" The goatee-man, Cockerell, snapped.
Kris rolled her eyes to the top of her head and dropped to the floor in an exaggerated, but well acted, faint. The two men were skeptical at first, but after her hand was stepped on once and she gave no response (at least not one they'd notice) the giant reached to grab her. Kris's fingers curled around her dropped weapon and the moment the giant's hand grabbed the back of her shirt she pressed herself upwards and slashed his hand with the sharp tip of Superman's neck. The giant howled, Cockerell cursed, and Kris ran. She was almost out the door when the giant ripped her jacket off, causing the sleeve of her silk shirt to tear at the shoulder's seam. Kris swiped Superman's neck behind her in hopes of doing more damage; instead she was greeted by a sharp pain to the back of her head and colorful stars dancing in front of her eyes.
(End of Flashback)
And now, she was here, in her cell, alone and terrified. She wiped her cheeks with her dirty sleeve and looked up when the lock began to jingle and twist. Kris crab crawled backwards towards the wall of the cell and looked around for anything she could use for a weapon. Except for a tiny ray of sunlight coming from a hole near the floor, it was dark. Evening light instantly flooded into the cell revealing an orange, yellow, and light purple sunset behind Cockerell at the giant. The two men suddenly stepped aside and allowed five young women to walk in. Kris recognized each one as a girl or woman who had gone missing from in or around the bank.
"Oh my God…" She whispered. The cell door shut and a woman reached up and tugged the chain of a light bulb. Kris noticed one woman was carrying a white wedding gown, while another held a tiara made of pearls with a thick and long veil attached to it. "What…What is this?"
"The competition," one of the woman whispered with a frown. "I'm so sorry, miss….we went through the same thing and know how terrible and frightening this is….But we'll watch out over you, and you'll watch out over us. That's how we do things here; we have one another's back."
Basta was almost giddy with excitement; it was finally time for the summer's competition. He had spent hours practicing his fighting skills; he would not lose this year. Last year Antonio had won the prize, this year Basta would win it….Though other black jackets laughed at him since he had never won a single prize in the eight years of the competition in this world. This time he would win. The competition was a game started by the Adderhead in the Inkworld for Capricorn's men, who seemed very unlucky when it came to female companionship. Each year the Adderhead's men would kidnap an innocent young women and she would be placed in a wedding dress, whichever of Capricorn's men was left standing would win the bride. After unveiling her face, the winner could decide if he wanted her only for one night, an occasional visit, or forever.
Basta smirked as night fell and the torches in the field below the village were lit….It was time. He walked confidently down to the old soccer field and studied this year's competition and was pleasantly surprised to see Cockerell and Flatnose standing at the side of the ring. They had been the ones to pick and kidnap the prize this year, and since they knew what she looked like they had to sit out. Basta's gaze traveled upwards towards the platform where Capricorn sat straight in his throne. In a smaller throne beside him sat the prize. She was short, and wore a silk white wedding dress that started as a choker at her throat. Crocheted lace traveled down to the middle of her chest where the white fabric became a wall that blocked the best part of her torso from all men's view. Her skirt billowed out around the chair and caught the torch light, giving the dress and the prize a glow. The circular tiara made of pearls atop her head held the thick long veil in front of and behind her face. Her wrists and ankles were shackled together; the chain was locked around a rung in the platform. This prize must have been feisty; most women only had to be tied.
Excitement coursed through his veins as the fight began.
Kris could hear the grunts, screams, and groans of pain from below her. She fought to keep from crying, but was having little luck. From what the women who had dressed her and had combed and styled her hair had said she'd belong to a black jacket soon….and there was no way to escape. But the women didn't know that for sure, maybe she could try a different escape. For now, she'd have no luck for that idea since her wrists and ankles were chained to the wooden platform.
"Go ahead and tremble my dear," a soft and flat voice said from beside her, "It will only make my men fight harder to win you."
Had any of the women before her tried to reason with their captor?
"Please…Sir…Let me go, I swear I won't say a thing to anyone."
"Say a thing? My dear, it wouldn't matter if you wrote a book about this, no one would believe it."
"Why me?" She asked, she knew the question was rather…self pitying, but why her when not some other women? Didn't men in Italy like to stick with Italian women?
"Because you're an exotic beauty, unlike anything my men have ever seen before. You speak with a strange accent, your skin reminds them of Snow White, and your hair is as red as fire. We haven't seen anyone quite like you before in this world."
This world?
"Excuse me?" Kris asked; she had to be hearing things. She didn't believe in alien abductions.
"Nothing of any great importance you," the man replied, "Tell me where are you from?"
If this man wouldn't let her go, why respond?
"I highly suggest speaking, or I can have very, very cruel things happen," The man threatened. The reinforcement was the threat of something cold and slick was placed against her throat.
"Please get the knife off my throat," she whispered in terror.
"Then speak."
Kris carefully swallowed, "I'm from a state called Georgia, it's in America."
"I see, why are you in Italy?"
"For an exchange….To understand cultural diversity better. I chose to stay here for two years so my friends wouldn't have to come over…they're terrified of flying."
"I see," the man replied and the knife was removed from her throat. "Well, then I see a winner in the very near future."
Basta slashed his knife at the rather new henchman, a young man in his early twenties who was in trouble with the law for bank robbery. The raven haired man ducked away from the knife and sent a punch Basta's way. There was no way in hell he was making that mistake again; Basta lunged away from the punch and kicked the man in the groin. He watched the young black jacket double over in pain. Basta then took his chance to leap forward and knock the man out. He looked around the field, he was the last one standing, and he was the winner. Finally!
"Congratulations Basta," Capricorn announced, his voice indifferent, "You may come get your prize."
Excitement flittered through Basta's body like a million butterflies trying to escape a trap. He climbed the large steps of the platform and walked over to the bride. He took the long moment to glare at Cockerell, Flatnose, and several other black jackets who had sworn he'd never win. Cockerell shrugged, Flatnose picked his nose, and other black jackets grumbled jealously. Smirking at their unhappiness, Basta knelt down and slowly raised the heavy white veil and froze in astonishment, before him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Her skin was as pale and delicate as porcelain, her cheeks a rosy pink color; her eyes reminded him of a dark night, lit only by a few clusters of stars. Her lips were a pale pink color. Her red hair had been braided and coiled into a tight bun. He noticed her hands, encased in satin white gloves, were trembling.
"Well….Hello," he smiled and watched as she glared at him. He reached forward to touch her shoulder and quickly drew back his hand when she bit him. "Ow!" He cradled his bit hand and stared at the woman who was now staring at him with hate, a snarl on her lips. He burst out laughing, "Well, well, I got a little wild cat!"
"Don't touch me, you bastard," The woman growled. "Let me go!"
"Or what?" Cockerell rasped from the other side of the chair.
"This," The woman warmed as she suddenly swung the loose foot of chain around Basta's neck and tugged. He gasped in shock and pain as he struggled to breathe. Who the hell was this woman?
Kris squeezed the chain around the winner's throat; no man would ever own her. She was not some item, not some sack of potatoes that could be sold or kept. She glared at the man beside her and jumped in fear, he had no color to him what so ever. He was as pale as milk, even his eyes were white.
"Oh my…." Kris started before the chain was suddenly ripped from her hand the short man collapsed before her. The giant unlocked her chains and held out a pair of handcuffs.
"NO!" She shrieked and began to try to escape, her ankles were still tightly shackled and when she attempted to run off the platform, the chain tightened and pulled her back causing her to fall flat on her face. Kris heard the men around her begin laughing; when the giant stepped towards her she kicked her feet at him. He simply snorted, jerked her up onto her feet and cuffed her wrists behind her back.
"Quit your strugglin'," he hissed in her ear, "You belong to Basta now. If you be really good maybe he won't consummate your relationship with him tonight."
Kris paled and suddenly the legends of the ghostly men who lived in the cursed and abandoned village flew through her mind. Allison had told her the story when Kris had first arrived in Italy. The story stated the men were cursed spirits who were forever doomed for their criminal acts in life including robbing, killing, and… raping.
"No…" Kris fought back the well of tears beginning to flood her eyes. The chain keeping her attached to the platform was suddenly removed and before she could regain her balance, Kris was shoved into Basta's arms. His arms wrapped tightly around her waist and he held her in such a tight grip her breathing was labored.
"What do you want to do with her Basta? Do you want her for a night? For a day? A month? Or forever?" The pale man questioned.
Kris was spun around to meet the foxy face of her so-called lover. His dark brown eyes were narrow and short brown hair framed the edges of his face. His nose was long and thin and ended with a sharp tip. His mouth, which was pulled into a tight smirk, which was no doubt meant to terrify her, sent fear shivering up and down her spine.
"Forever," the man rasped.
"Get the government official," the man exclaimed. "Tonight will be a celebration, for tonight is finally Basta's wedding!" All around them men dressed in tight black suits cheered and began rushing towards a large cluster of picnic tables. Basta wrapped his arms tightly around her.
"You're mine now," his voice rasped like a cat's tongue, "I have waited so long for female companionship. So don't even think of trying to escape, because there's no way that's going to happen." He paused, "What's your name?" When she didn't answer quick enough for him, he shook her.
"Kristiana MacHowlan, everyone calls me Kris."
"Kris is a boy's name; it's Kristiana from now on," Basta rasped, "I'm Basta, your husband."
Kris looked away from him, away from the black suited men that reminded her of an army of crows, away from the man who was as pale as a ghost. She looked towards the long winding road at the edge of the field that was so close, yet so far away. One way or another, she would reach that road, she would escape. And when she did she'd come back with an army of mercenaries who would rescue the missing women and help arrest every man in this cursed village. When she looked back up it was to see Cockerell dragging out a tall and thin man, behind him followed the Goth boy from the Comic store. He held two golden bands in his hand. Kris's stomach fell to her feet, she had to find a way to escape and quick.