Mixed Messages
Chapter 19
Dinner plans
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The Princess stood, towering over Amanda, in the castle's ornate dining room. She laid a hand behind Amanda's shoulder, and said, "Amanda, we've been working with the authorities on some kidnapping and sex trafficking cases. You may be our big break. Would you be willing to review some case files and tell me what you know?"
Amanda nodded.
She opened a manilla folder, laid three pictures on the table, and said, "This is Prince Maximillian Konigsberg zu Bowles-Lyon von Renard. He collects young girls, has his way with them in his dungeon, then either sells them off, or kills them."
She pushed a set of silver candlesticks to the side, spread a stack of pictures across the lace tablecloth, drummed her fingernails, and said, "These are members of his security team. Have you seen any of them?"
Amanda nodded.
"Do you mind picking out the ones you have seen.
Amanda peered, inspecting and touching each picture one by one, then said, "All of them."
"You've seen all of these men? Including this one, the prince's head of security?" the princess said, sliding a photo of a brown suited man across the table.
Amanda nodded.
"And they had the girls?"
Amanda gritted her teeth, pointed at several of them, and said, "Yes, and these were on the airplane."
"Oh, and you escaped from them?"
"Yes."
The princess spread another stack, and said, "Have you seen any of these young women? Take your time."
Amanda inspected the pictures one by one. Her eyes turned red as she silently stared. She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and quietly nodded.
"Can you identify the girls you saw?"
Amanda slid ten pictures across and laid them in front of The Princess.
"You've seen them? Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Do you know any of them personally?"
Amanda picked up picture of a heavy set, black haired girl, stared for a minute then wiped her wrist across her nose. Finally, she passed it to The Princess.
The Princess gently rubbed Amanda's back, and said, "I'm so sorry."
"She was my best friend."
"What is her name?"
"Miriam Schwartz."
"Oh my, so Prince Maximillian has your best friend Miriam, you must be so worried. I can't imagine. Where did you see them last? On the airplane?"
"No. In Vancouver."
"Vancouver? Is that where they were held?"
"Yes."
"You will have to excuse my geography, but where is that?"
"In Canada."
"Were you held with them, there?"
"No."
"But they were being held there? You saw them?"
"Yes."
"How did you see them there?"
Amanda stood like a stone as tears rolled down her cheeks. She shook her head side to side and bit her lip. Her eyes twitched and she bolted out of the dining room, fled down the marble tiled hallway past sculptures, paintings, and ancient tapestries, and disappeared into the castle.
The princess tapped Miriam's picture against her fingers, smirked, and called Lukas to her office.
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A pair of yellow eyes sliced through the icy darkness and a grumbling growl cut the silence.
"Honey, are you ok?" Misty's voice whispered, teeth chattering.
"I will be. It's better if I don't think about it." Sandra quietly replied. She pulled her eyes closed, shrouding their fiery glow, and exhaled. "I'm just so... Hungry."
Misty felt her way across the bumpy metal floor and huddled against Sandra. She laid her head on Sandra's chest, wrapped her hands under her back, and nestled herself in, teeth rattling.
Sandra's rumbling stomach echoed again in the dark. She arched her back, away from the shock of Misty's icy hands piercing through her long sleeve shirt. The rusty chain hitched to Sandra's neck clanked and ground as she rubbed her cold fingertips through Misty's hair and across her cheek. She opened her eyes, allowing their eerie glow to dapple the inside of the corrugated metal container.
The white cloud of her breath floated inches above her face, mingling with Misty's breath, and slowly rose. A few dusty snow flakes fluttered back down, as Sandra winced and forced her eyes closed. She slowly inhaled, filling her nostrils, then exhaled, and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes and nose. She gritted her teeth, and said, "It's better if you don't do this now. You know what they're trying to make me do."
Misty brushed her hand across Sandra's face, and tears dribbled down the point of her nose. "But I'm so cold."
"So am I, but, I just can't. I'm so... Hungry."
"I'm so sorry."
Sandra pushed Misty off, and said, "Hon, it's not your fault they're feeding you. You know why they're doing this."
"Do you think they can hear us?"
"What? Why?"
Misty felt through the dark, laid her fingers on Sandra's arm, and asked, "What's your gag reflex like?"
"Huh?"
"This will probably gross you out. But I swallowed some food. It's a momma Steinadler thing, but... I could, give you some."
Sandra paused, then said, "Like put your beak down my throat, and vomit into my stomach?"
"Yes"
Sandra's body shuddered, and nausea welled up inside her from the mental image. Her abdomen clenched, she burped, and the stench of stomach acid wafted through her nostrils.
"You ok?"
Sandra shook her head side to side, fanned her hand past her nose, winced, and said, "I don't think I'll be able to. I'm sorry."
Her stomach growled again, but she sighed and closed her eyes to the dusty snowflakes fluttering onto her face.
Her body shook and convulsed from the cold, waking her up, an instant before banging rocked their metal shipping container. The doors flew open and bright white seared her eyes. She pulled her hands over her eyes, then heard footsteps and a loud electric crackling.
A man's voice called out, "Lowen! Up!"
She pushed up into a crouch, and readied herself to pounce at the shadow of a man shrouded in white.
"Lowen, get any bright ideas and you and your friend both get it."
A blue spark crackled, Misty shrieked, and Sandra jumped, slamming the end of her chain, and slashing her claws into the empty shadow.
"Well, well, well," a second man's voice rumbled, "A feisty one! Bring the Lowen out, and get her ready."
Two men circled Sandra in the cargo container. She snarled at them, and started towards the first, when an electric jolt rocked her. One man jerked the chain and started pulling her out.
She leaned and strained against the chain, but he yanked, throwing her forward. The two men leaned against her chain, dragging her across the steel floor and tossing her headfirst into the snow. Her eyes slowly adjusted revealing dusk, bare trees, and a trail of footsteps through snow drifted ground that ended in front of her orange shipping container. She pushed up and took a step forward, scrubbing at the caked snow.
They jerked the chain again. She trudged past a barbed wire fence, pens of hunting dogs, a row of parked cars, and two heavy horse trailers, as the metal container doors creaked and banged shut behind her.
They lead her through the door of a large metal building and hitched her chain to a rough wooden post. A broad shouldered man, with short cropped gray hair and a square jaw, threw a bikini top and a pair of shiny spandex shorts at her feet, and grunted, "Put that on. It's time for you to fight for your dinner."
She spit at him.
He wogued into a Lowen, revealing a thick grayish mane, round shoulders, giant, square hands, and thick forearms. He backhand slapped her and jabbed the electric cattle prod onto her chain.
She jerked, convulsed, and slashed at the shocks, but finally, her knees buckled and she fell, crashing against the chain on her neck. She gasped, groped for her footing on the icy concrete, and pushed back up to her feet.
A second man tore her shirt and pants loose. She slashed at him, but the other man zapped her chain again, locking her jaws against her own screams and filling her nostrils with the scent of ozone.
The gray haired man shrugged, and said, "Your choice. Fight naked if you want. It's popular with the crowds."
"I'm not fighting!"
"You're going in the ring either way, so do whatever. I sort of doubt your friend is much of a fighter."
She jerked and slashed her claws while he chuckled.
He said, "That's fine, the other fighters are hungry, so we'll feed her to them. Your choice. If you win, it's all you can eat."
Her stomach growled, and she said, "Lowen games?"
He nodded.
"I'll fight if you promise to let me keep her. She's mine."
A smug grin filled his face, and he said, "We'll talk about it if you win."
She glared, then held out her hand, and said "My clothes?" He pointed at her feet. She stripped down, covering herself with her torn clothes, crouched over the the tiny top and shorts, and shimmied into them.
She waited, shivering, while clanking, shouts, and cheering echoed from somewhere out of sight.
"You're up!" The man growled, and jerked her chain. Two men stood at the ready with cattle prods while a third unhooked the chain from her neck.
"That way, to the ring!"
She planted her feet but the stabbing jolts shocked her forward. She trudged, thronged by the crowd packed full of cheering and howling men and women, towards a large steel fenced ring. They shoved her through a tall, chain link gate onto the beige pavement, and stabbed the cattle prods into her until she jumped away from the door.
She grabbed the cage and yelled at them. They laughed and poked the prods against the bars, wracking her body with electricity until she jumped back.
The man smirked, and said, "You're a Lowen, so I'll let you pick your weapon first."
She glanced around, trying to collect her bearings as steam lifted off her skin. Memories flashed through her mind of being forced into a ring like this by her grandfather, and she narrowed her eyes.
She bounced on her toes, flexed, stretched, and paced the concrete circle, recalling her professional fighting days, forcing her adrenaline up, and silently thanking Wook, Jeremy, Ronnie, and yes, even Lauren, for unmercifully pounding the savagery back into her. She eyed several dented shields, a rusty sword, a brown mace, a morning star with jagged teeth, and a javelin with a broken shaft.
She grabbed a pair of rusty vambraces and slid them over her forearms. She rummaged through the pile in the corner, and slid a left hand gauntlet over her hand and snatched up the lance.
The man's voice boomed into the crowd while she circled and drove her adrenaline up. "Ladies and Gentlemen! We have a treat for tonight's opening women's fight! We've got new blood, and she's a Lowen! Let's see how she does against The Crusher!"
The crowd roared, cheered, and chanted, "Crusher! Crusher! Crusher!"
The men shoved a stout, muscular woman, with tattoos covering her arms and chest, into the ring. She gritted her teeth, wogued, and raised her hands up, pointing her fingers at the sky. She snorted, blowing a cloud of steam into the air, while trotting around the ring. She stomped to the middle of the ring, revealing the black horns, purple skin, and ox-like features of a Heftigarouch.
The Heftigarouche stuck her finger straight at Sandra, snorted, and started taunting, "Mmmm! So pretty! I like your nails. Well, pretty lady, I'm sorry, but there's no desk work around here."
The woman stomped heavily around the ring and shook her head side to side. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you like this, but how did you end up here? Your dentist husband got tired of your endless whining? Maybe your BMW wasn't good enough? I bet he's banging the secretary isn't he. You found out, tried to divorce him, and ended up here, right? Well, today is your lucky day."
Sandra's stomach growled, her mouth started watering, and she licked her lips.
The woman stomped around the ring and grabbed a morning star. She yelled, "So you're supposed to be a Lowen? Here kitty kitty kitty! You think you're strong, Mrs. Dentist! Ready to take the bull by the horns! I'll have you in eight seconds! There's no hiding in your gated community tonight."
Sandra lowered her stance, and the Heftigarouch charged at her, slashing her horns and swinging a morning star..
She feinted left and kicked her foot out, tripping the woman in her bull rush. The woman crashed into the cage, and Sandra rushed in, pounding punches into her kidneys.
The woman pushed back off the cage, and swung wildly. Sandra backed off while the woman rubbed her sides and chuckled. She grinned, circled towards Sandra, and said, "So, you had some Tai Chi classes? Maybe a little yoga? Think that back massage will help you get on my good side? It turns out I'm from a gated community, as well, but the gates in mine keep me in. So let's do this!"
Sandra twisted her head and revealed her tawny mane and flattened feline features, She extended and retracted her claws, then started bouncing on her toes.
The Heftigarouche snorted out another cloud of steam, scraped her foot on the pavement, and said, "You got any last words?"
Sandra smirked, and muttered, "You smell delicious."
The woman stood bolt upright, dropped her hands, and exclaimed, "What did you say!"
Sandra pounced the instant she dropped her guard, hooking her claws into the woman's meaty neck. She twisted, and slung the Heftigarouche over her hip onto the cement floor face first and she followed, hooking into the woman's back.
The woman snorted, jumped, and rolled onto her back, flailing her arms at Sandra, and trying to bash her with elbows. The woman arched her back and ground Sandra across the rough cement.
Sandra held fast, slithering her arms inside. She wormed her forearm around the Heftigarouche's neck, and started working. Inch by inch, the Heftigarouche slid and wormed her way into Sandra's choke hold. She finally locked her wrist, wrapped her knee over the woman's leg and hauled back.
The woman flailed, trying to hook her shiny horns into Sandra. She arched her back and ground Sandra across the exposed gravel as she tried to force her fingers under Sandra's arms. Sandra licked under her ear and whispered, "Mmmm! Delicious!"
The Heftigarouche screamed, flailed, and shook, white eyed. She pushed and twisted, trying to escape as Sandra squeezed her forearms into the woman's neck. She wrenched with one last frenzied jerk, then her arms and body fell limp.
The Heftigarouche's meaty scent filled Sandra's nostrils. She sank her teeth deep into it's neck, tore out a chunk, and swallowed.
Hunger washed over her. The world around her slowed to a crawl as she rolled the purple Wesen off, climbed on top, and ripped the woman's chest open. She started cramming rich, delicious organ meat into her mouth.
The crowd exploded, roaring, whistling, and chanting, "Eat! Eat! Eat!"
She ripped and tore with both hands, gulping without even chewing.
Footsteps echoed behind her, and she whirled as a man slammed a kick towards her. She hooked her claws into his leg and hauled herself up his chest. He transformed himself into a Shackal, revealing flattened canine features and scruffy brown hair. He tried to punch at her as she twined around him. His pleas to the men outside the ring turned to screaming as he flailed and batted at her. She dragged him to the ground, ripped his throat out, and flashed back to the Heftigarauch, hunching over her kill.
The crowd exploded in elation and cheering, roaring their ecstasy. She crouched low, ripping chunks out of the Heftigarouch at her feet, and cramming them in her mouth while the Shackal's body behind her slowly twitched and gurgled.
Two men marched in with lassos and cattle prods. She crouched over the body, extended her claws, and snarled, "Mine!"
They circled her and started flashing the prods, filling the air with blue sparks and the scent of ozone. The first man whipped his lasso, barely missing her arm. She grabbed it, hauled as hard as she could, knocking him off balance, and pounced. She flew onto him, slashing her claws deep into his neck and chest, but his partner stabbed his prod into her back. She ripped into the man below her, tearing and slashing while every muscle in her body screamed until they locked. Finally the convulsions overwhelmed her and the world went black.
Icy water wracked her body and she jerked, screaming and huffing. She found herself hanging shackled in the darkness with a single light glowing above her. Both hands were chained together, pulled towards the top of the rough, wooden pole behind her, while her ankles were shackled a shoulder's width apart.
The gray haired man hosed her face, sending red rivulets of icy water down her body, into a pool at her feet. "Wakey wakey, honey," he growled, "I think we found our new headliner!"
She snarled and snapped her jaws. He ran a warm hand up the side of her muscular thigh and hip, along her flat belly, across her breast, up her neck, and finally caressed her blood stained cheek. She snapped her teeth, trying to catch his fingers, and fought her shaking body's instinct to draw towards his warmth. She flashed her eyes yellow, and growled, "I'll kill you!"
"Mmmm! Now that's what I like in a Lowen! A fighter! You made us proud tonight. For now, though, we've got to wash you up and get you ready for your next fight."
He ran his fingertips across her red stained cheek, towards her lips, and said, "Mmmm! I think you'll clean up nicely!"
He ran his hand back down her bikini top, cupped her butt cheek, and whispered, "Maybe you and I could work out an arrangement."
She snarled, and spit in his eyes.
He chuckled, wiping his forefinger over his eyes and flicking the blob onto the cement floor. He turned his back to her, ambling away, and waved his fingers in a circle over his head. He called out, "Get her washed up."
She gritted her teeth when another man squirted the hose. Her body convulsed and shook as the icy water blasted, burning until numbness consumed her, and then two more men scrubbed her from head to toe with brushes.
Finally, they scrubbed handfuls of salt into her raw back, knees, and arms. She jumped, shook, and yelled as the burn soaked into her bones.
They peeled her wet clothing off, pitched her a flannel bath robe, dragged her back through the snow, and tossed her into the the metal shipping container, tripping and stumbling over Misty before crashing to the floor.
"Here." One of the men snickered as he tossed a single, worn blanket in after her, and locked the door.
Misty clambered over, gently lifted her up, ran her fingers through Sandra's wet hair, kissed her, and said, "Are you ok? I was so worried. I thought they killed you."
Sandra winced from Misty's cold hands touching her raw skin. She touched Misty's cheek, wiped the wetness out of her eyes, and pressed her forehead into Misty's.
Misty said, "You're hurt. Let me see."
Sandra turned, felt Misty's gentle fingertips on her back, arms, and knees, and heard her gasp as she grimaced.
Misty grumbled under her breath, and said, "I need to get you cleaned up with antiseptic and ointment. All they did was scrub salt into it?"
"Got any handy, Nurse Prentice?"
"No, but still. Did they at least give you some food?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"I had to fight for it. I'm ok. Let's find that blanket."
An hour later, Sandra's adrenaline started dissipating and her mind slowed it's frenetic rush. She stopped pacing circles around the inside of the black box, and laid down next to Misty.
Sandra wrapped around Misty's shaking body, and whispered, "These aren't the people who kidnapped us."
"What? How did you know?"
"I can smell them, and they didn't threaten me about Amanda, just you."
"Wait, so do you know who kidnapped us?"
Sandra gritted her teeth, and silently hissed, "Connie, her family, and a bunch of Hundjagers. I'm going to rip their throats out, but first, we have to get out of here."
Misty rolled towards her, wrapped herself around Sandra, nestled her head in Sandra's shoulder, and whispered, "Fight? Like one person, or some sort of fight club?"
"It's Lowen Gladiator fights. I think they sold us to the Lowen who runs it."
"Those are actually a real thing?"
Sandra gritted her teeth. Tears welled up into her eyes as she remembered those summers, trapped in hell by her grandfather, where she fought for her food, and he beat and starved her when she lost. She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, and said, "I wish they weren't. My grandfather made me fight in them. That's how I started fighting."
"Your grandfather? The one who...?"
She clenched her jaws and ground her teeth, then wiped tears out of her eyes as repressed memories flooded back. She finally said, "Yes, that one. I met the guy who runs it. I swear, I'm going to kill him."
"I'm guessing he's one of those Alpha male, red-pill types."
"One hundred and ten percent."
Misty thought for a while, then whispered, "I've got an idea, but you're not going to like it."
She cupped her hand over Sandra's ear and whispered.
Sandra gritted her teeth, flashed her eyes fiery yellow, and snarled. She ground her teeth, and finally whispered back, "You're right. I'd rather die."
Misty whispered, "It may be our only chance."
Sandra snarled into the darkness, then groaned.
Misty asked, "What about Amanda?"
"There's a part of me that I buried years ago, when I met you. I'm not sure I'll be able to control it, if I allow that side of myself back."
"Is it really fight or die?"
"Yes."
Misty cringed, but kept her cold body wrapped around Sandra's. She finally snuggled her head in and said, "Well, I'm glad you lived."
She paused and smelled Sandra, then slowly said, "So, you ate Wesen tonight?"
Sandra pulled her face against Misty and started sobbing. She finally whimpered, "They were going to feed you to the fighters. They were going to eat you alive. I.. I couldn't let them."
"I know I made you swear you would never do that again, but this is different, and I'm not judging you." Misty ran her fingertips through Sandra's hair, and said, "It's ok. We've got to do whatever it takes to get out of here, and get our daughter back."
Tears welled up in Sandra's eyes as the prospect of re-living the nightmares she had spent years beating back rammed headlong into her consciousness. She drew herself into Misty's shoulder, sobbing, and rocking while Misty caressed her fingers through the back of her hair and petted her back.
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4k 2/5/21 r1