Chapter Seven
While many feet scurried across the ship's deck and Jocelyn barked out commands to the Goblins she had gained control of, the situation was vastly different inside the doctor's cabin on the Saucy Wench. There Morph and Celina huddled together while Katrina sat beside them, her green eyes never moving for long from their captor. Roxanne claimed to be on their side, but though Katrina could not smell any lies on her, she was also loathe to trust her. After all, she had stood at the side while Tom, Celina, and herself had had their claws taken; that bitch, Anamaria, had cut off part of her little sister's finger; and nearly their entire family had been taken prisoner by two of the worst ships to ever sail the seven seas.
Roxanne, too, watched her prisoners with cautious intrigue. She did not wish to see them suffer any further and would liked to have freed them but knew it to be an impossibility. If Callisto even knew that she had removed their arm cuffs, she would be furious enough. The doctor knew she was playing a dangerous game and realized that she could trust these people no more than she could her own ship mates.
The silence was broken by Roxanne getting to her feet. Celina and Morph looked up at her fearfully, and Katrina's fur bristled. Roxanne held out a hand to stop her from preparing to defend her family. "I'm just going to leave for a few minutes. I need to check on my pets." It was not the full truth, however, and both catwomen sensed that.
As Roxanne left, locking the door behind her, the sisters turned to look at each other. "There's something very . . . different about her," Celina commented.
"You mean other than the fact that she doesn't have us screaming yet, love?" Morph questioned his wife.
Celina nodded. "Besides that, though." She looked back to Katrina, her blue eyes narrowed in thought. "Did you . . . smell something on her?"
Morph looked from one woman to the other, wondering what Celina was hinting at. Not for the first time did he wish that he had a nose like theirs.
Katrina nodded. "I did," she agreed, "but it's probably just her pets."
While the two women pondered that, Morph got to his feet and began moving around the small cabin. "What are you looking for?" Celina asked.
"Anything," he answered. "Anything that might be able to help us get these collars off."
Katrina stood immediately to join him in his search but paused as Celina also stood. "You need to rest."
"I'm fine." Celina shook her head insistently.
Katrina smiled sadly, knowing it would do her no good to argue with her sister on that topic. "I have your finger, you know."
Celina smiled at her sister's loving thoughtfulness. "Thank you, sis." Katrina nodded, and the three settled down into silence as they quickly searched the cabin.
Kalena had been carefully watching over her two prisoners before her thoughts had started to drift. She couldn't help wondering if she was doing the right thing. She could have easily chosen a man and tortured him instead of choosing two frail women to protect, but she hadn't. Was she going soft? No, the redhead thought. She wasn't going soft. She could never go soft.
The problem, she told herself, was that this wasn't right. They hadn't taken these prisoners through a normal battle. No, they had been led to them by that bitch of a Goddess, Discord, and these people had not even stood a chance. They had not had one single opportunity to fight but had walked straight into a trap, a trap that that same Goddess had pulled together and suggested.
Kalena's hands clenched into fists. She hated the Gods. Ever since she was a little girl and had lost her family because she did not return Apollo's unwanted advances, she had burned with a hatred for the Gods and men brighter than even the color of her hair, a red so brilliant that many had said could rival even the flames of Apollo's chariot. That had been what had called the God's attention to her -- praise from men who she had no more interest in now than she had then.
"You missed a spot!"
Kalena's head snapped up at the sound of Jocelyn Seagrave's voice that was too near for comfort. It took only a second for her green eyes to locate the other redhead, and she found her standing before one of her girls who was trembling and trying to scrub out a new spot of mud that had somehow found its way onto the deck. Kalena strode forward even as she demanded angrily, "What did you do, Seagrave?"
"I just showed the stupid bitch how she was screwing up."
"They're my slaves," Kalena hissed, now standing directly before Jocelyn, "and I'll be the one to show them what they miss."
"I was just trying to help," Jocelyn feigned hurt.
"I don't need or want your help," Kalena returned through gritted teeth. "Now back off and leave my slave alone."
The two stared at each other for a long minute before Jocelyn humphed, turned her back on Kalena, and continued about her way. Kalena looked down at the girl with long, black hair whose body was nearly pressed straight against the deck. "Did she hurt you?" she asked. She saw Jocelyn look back over her shoulder at her and hurriedly added, "She didn't? Good. I don't like my prisoners damaged when I plan to take them to bed."
Fred's heart nearly stopped beating at that, but Kalena's eyes remained focused on Jocelyn. When the redhead had moved on, she spoke to Fred again in a whisper. "Look at me." She had to repeat the command before Fred slowly raised her gaze to hers. "She didn't hurt you. Good. Are you thirsty?"
Fred slowly dared to move her trembling head in a nod, and Kalena looked over to where her other girl stood, her mop frozen in mid-sweep and her scared, brown eyes looking directly at them. "You?"
"Huh?"
"Are you thirsty?"
Dawn nodded slowly. "Go back to work," Kalena instructed them. "I'll get you some water." She moved away, leaving her two prisoners to stare at each other in confusion. She did not need to look back at them after she had taken a few strides to know that they were still staring at each other. "Go back to work," she barked, and they hurriedly complied. Kalena shook her head and continued on.
Autolycus and Paige had both been trying desperately to break free from their bonds ever since Belladonna had left them to see about the woman who had screamed for her medical aid. They had spent every second since then trying to find a way to free themselves, but not even the self-proclaimed King of Thieves had been able to find a way to free even as much as an inch of himself. He longed for his skeleton key but doubted that he would have been able to reach it even if he had not lost it in the wreck. Both continued to struggle until they heard the door open at which point they froze.
Paige watched fearfully as Belladonna entered the room, locked the door behind her, and made her way to her table. She opened a box and turned back to them with the weirdest-looking plant either had ever before seen. As she approached, however, Autolycus fought again against his chains. "You'd best let us go now," he dared to tell her, "or you'll be sorry!"
Belladonna only laughed, and though her laughter unnerved both her captives even more, Autolycus persisted. "Xena will come for us! You'll see! She'll come for us and make you eat that laugh!" His bristled mustache belied his words and made his true nerves quite clear, however.
"What makes you dink," Belladonna demanded, "dat your precious Pirate Princess is even still alive?"
"She is," Autolycus stated matter-of-factly.
Belladonna shook her head and responded with a smirk, "Helvira burned dat place to de ground."
"She found a way out," Autolycus returned, "and she'll come for us." Secretly, he was not too sure that Xena would still care enough about him to come for him, but he knew that she would not let the others, especially Gabrielle, down.
"You'll be singing a different tune when I'm done wit' you," Belladonna informed him. She then dismissed Autolycus completely and moved on to Paige. She held the herb out in front of her mouth. "Take dis."
"No."
"Take it."
Paige was about to repeat her answer when Belladonna tried to shove the herb into her mouth. The redhead shook her head and clamped her mouth tightly shut. "Fine. Be a hard, little bitch," Belladonna told her. "You'll still takin' it." Her hand shot out and grabbed Paige's throat.
Belladonna cut off Paige's oxygen, but still the redhead determinedly kept her mouth shut. She didn't know what the herb was or what it might do to her but knew it couldn't be good. Her burning lungs finally forced her lips to open, however, and the very second they did so, Belladonna popped the herb in. Paige sputtered and spat. Tiny leaves flew from her mouth, but the herb remained, filling first her tongue and then her mouth with a burning sensation that began quickly spreading over her face.
"Spit it out!" Autolycus told Paige. "Spit it out!"
Paige tried, but Belladonna's hand clamped over her mouth. "Swallow it." Paige's wide eyes stared at the blonde in fright. "Swallow it," Belladonna repeated as she pulled out a pistol and pointed it straight at Autolycus' heart.
Autolycus gulped. Like Paige, he had no ideal what the herb might do to her. It might even kill her, but he could not tell her not to swallow it and allow himself to be killed instead!
"Swallow it," Belladonna commanded a third time. As her finger began to pull the trigger, Paige began frantically trying to swallow the herb. It seemed to burn every inch of her it touched, and Autolycus' eyes grew even wider as her face broke out in red spots.
Tom had known that Catra would not be gone long and that she would be angry when she did return, but he had not expected her to give him a choice when she returned. "All right, asshole," Catra snarled from where she stood before him, "you can unsheathe your toenails and I'll remove them or I'll just remove your toes or even destroy your feet. I don't really care which. I don't want your damn feet or toes. I just want your dick, and I'm not stupid enough to let you keep your little weapon."
Tom hesitated for a moment. Did he really have to choose between his claws, feet, and toes? He could smell the truth on her, however, and the impatience. "All right," she snarled. His pointed ears shifted as he heard her move about the sleeping quarters. "The feet it is." He heard her pick up something, and he knew it was some kind of crude torture device. He wondered what it was but would not open his eyes for he knew she was still naked.
"Okay! Okay!" he exclaimed as she started to return. At least, if he lost only his hind claws, he could still walk.
Catra paused. "Unsheathe them," she commanded, and he obeyed. She moved back to the small table where she had picked up the first instrument, laid it back down, and picked up a second instead. She paused to look back at the catman over her shoulder. "Are you sure? I don't want any trouble with you not holding still," she told him. "The other instruments don't give you a chance to move around."
"I . . . " Tom swallowed hard against his fear. "I'm sure."
He could barely breathe as she made her way back across the room. He shook inside as he felt the cold metal press against his first toenail. The blades pressed more tightly against his claw as Catra turned the screw until, finally, the now-familiar pain of losing his claws shot through him. Tom yowled but did not release the full scream that built in his throat.As she moved on to his other claws, Tom fought to regain control of himself. He managed to remain silent while she removed the rest. He heard her let the mutilation shears drop to the floor after she had removed his last claw. He shivered in fear, wondering what she would do to him next, but did not have long to wait as he felt her climbing on top of him.
Tom tried not to panic. He would not look upon the bitch, but that did not mean that she could not somehow force herself upon him nonetheless. He had to find a way out of this! He was determined not to betray his beloved Katrina as long as their was any life left in him, but he was powerless, his only natural weapons removed and his power untouchable!
His power! That was it! He tried to change his form, and his attempt to access his powers sent a shock rippling through his body -- a shock that knocked Catra straight off. She landed on her butt on the floor with an angry yowl but was back on her bare feet in an instant, her tail lashing fiercely through the air. "Don't do that!" she hissed at him, her green eyes blazing.
"Try it again, and you'll get the same," Tom informed her through gritted teeth.
Tom's plan might have worked -- had not Catra seen Enchantra already deal with a similar situation with Cole. "Try it again," she returned, "and I'll shoot the kid."
"His owner won't let you!"
"Then I'll shoot the tiger," she insisted.
Tom heard the bitch's lioness roar in protest but knew that some one as heartless as Catra would not care about her pet's emotions. He also could not risk the life of his old friend and teacher. "Fine," Tom caved with a defeated sigh.
"I thought you'd see it my way," Catra purred. She ran her claws down his naked leg, then began to climb on top of him once more.
As Catra worked her way up his body, Tom knew he had to think of something to stop her. He could not access his powers nor did he have any other weapons. He could not even try to access his powers without Vang being killed. His quick-thinking brain soon realized that that left him with only one option. It was something he had not tried in years but that he had perfected as an art form -- in his own warped way of thinking -- as a kitten. He began to gather his spit.
As he gathered all that he could, Tom focused on where Catra touched his body. He felt her moving up him and soon found a pattern to her movements. He waited until she had almost reached his groin, and then he let it rip.
Catra yowled as the furball hit her directly in her face. She clawed at the disgusting gunk, scratching her own face in her efforts to wipe it all off of, and continued to yowl. "You'll pay for this!" she hissed at Tom before storming out, he presumed, to find some water with which to wash her face.
In the back of the Saucy Wench's cell, behind those who watched in horror as the Vampiresses continued to torture their prisoners, sat the White Queen of the legends of Salem Saberhagen's time. She had paused only once since arriving and had draped her cloak over the trembling body of another prisoner before taking her place against the grime-covered wall. She had been sitting in the same spot since then, and her eyes had remained closed as she had tried nonstoppingly to use her powers and allowed the collar to send the familiar shocks ripping through her body.
Kurt Wagner watched the blonde in fear for her welfare. He, too, had been watching Angel and Connor, but when the Vampiresses had began tearing their clothes away with their sharp fingernails and sprinkling the holy water ever lower on their naked bodies, he had had to turn away. It was then that he had taken note of the two women in the back of the cell. One lay under a white, furry cape, moaning softly as her body trembled in her fevered dreams. The other sat with her back against the wall. She would have looked like a statue if not for the shocks ripping through her body.
Kurt could not understand why the blonde continued trying to use her powers. Did she not know that their bonds cursed them, sending shocks through their bodies whenever they attempted to use their powers? Did she, for some reason, not care that she would die if she did not stop? Never would the Priest have thought that the blonde continued allowing herself to be shocked because the one thing that she had left to hope for was the same as the only possible escape she still longed for -- the sweet relief of death.
The Priest moved forward, but as his three-fingered hand started to reach out for the woman, a quiet voice interrupted him. "Do not touch her."
Kurt looked down to find a Himalayan cat looking up at him through sad blue eyes. "Vhy not? I can not just let her continue."
"If you touch her, the shocks will spread to you. I saw it earlier, with Cole and Piper," Meesy explained, keeping his voice to a whisper so low that only the blue Demon's pointy ears would be able to hear him.
"But I have to do something to help her!" Kurt protested, his yellow eyes darting back to the blonde. He now noticed that there were tears running down her cheeks.
Meesy was about to answer him when the shocks suddenly ceased and the woman bent over, weeping. "Now you can help her," Meesy told Kurt, "or try to at least." Was there any help left for any of them? For the first time, the King was doubtful any help was coming. After all, had not Jack and the others been killed after barely escaping the Giants? Had not Katrina, Celina, and Tom all had their claws cut off? All those who still lived had been captured, and none of them could use their powers. Without them, he feared they were as good as sitting ducks.
Kurt approached the blonde cautiously and again reached out for her. "Miss?" he whispered. When she did not answer him, he repeated, "Miss? Can I help you?"
"Leavemealone." Her words were so blurred and low that he could barely make them out.
"I only vish to help."
"No one can help me."
"There is always at least one," Kurt tried.
The blonde raised her eyes, and her blue eyes bore into his yellow orbs. Her eyes were windows to her soul, and what Kurt saw within chilled him to his very soul. Whatever she had been through was the worst Hell she could imagine, and her eyes were those of a complete nonbeliever, one who did not believe in the Gods or, for that matter, anything else, one who had lost everything they had ever dared to hope for, fight for, or even love.
"Save your prayers, Father," Emma Frost told him, her voice low but harsh. "Your God doesn't give a flying crap about me. None of Them do."
"H-He always cares -- "
"Save it," Emma repeated, her blue eyes blazing with what was left of her defiance. "My life is already over. I have no one left who cares about me, and the only thing I have left is an impossibility so leave me be before I call your captor's attention to you."
Kurt took a step back and shook his head in shock at the woman's attitude. Emma shut her eyes again and hung her head; her blonde bangs shielded her face from him. He felt as if he were being dismissed by a dying Queen, but he would not so easily abandon any one who needed help as sorely as this woman did. "Ve have all been hurt, madam," he spoke gently. "Ve are all scared, perhaps more so than ve ever have been. I do not know vhat has befallen the voman I love or one of my closest friends. The only other friend I have vho is as close to me . . . I fear he may be dead."
"At least you do not know for a fact," Emma returned, her voice low and even as she fought to keep it from shaking with her emotions. "I know what has become of my people. I know what has happened to the man I love. I saw him die, and since then I have lived this Hell every day of my life. I am condemned to this Hell and do not even have the gift of death left to me. I have lost everything and have nothing left, something that you know nothing about."
"Look at me." When she did not move to do so, he gently reached out and lifted her chin. Her eyes opened hesitantly, and she stared at him past her tears. "Vhat do you see in front of you?"
"A Demon. A Priest. A trick. I don't know, and I don't care." She whipped her head away from his touch. "Just leave me alone."
Kurt sighed. "I only vish to help you -- "
"If that is true, then you will obey my wishes and leave me alone. You can do nothing to help me for there is nothing that can kill me. That is part of my curse."
"Your curse?"
Emma looked at him again. "Do you wish to torture me?"
"N-Nein," Kurt replied shakily, clearly surprised. "I only -- "
"Then. Leave. Me. Alone."
Kurt stared at the blonde for a long moment but finally got to his feet and walked sadly away. He wanted to help her but did not know how. Indeed, he did not know how to help any of them any longer. He hung his head as his own tears began anew and resumed his prayers.
While Kurt prayed for deliverance, his lady love was busy fighting the woman she had been searching for nearly all her life. Had Shadowcat had her powers, the match would have been no contest, but as it was, her blade evenly met Elektra's again and again. They seemed an equal match for each other until Elektra finally managed to slip past her daughter's guard and cut a slice out of her leggings.
"First cut," Elektra announced, her blade rising to point directly at Kitty's face.
Kitty had been surprised that Elektra had managed to slip past her guard but even more so when she did not draw blood. She could have very easily as she was unable to phase, but instead her blade just took a small swipe of blue cloth. "Ask your question."
As surprised as Kitty had been that Elektra had not actually cut her and as surprised as she had been when Elektra had challenged her, nothing could have prepared her for what Elektra said next completely floored her. "Were your parents good to you?"
Kitty stared at her mother, her round, brown eyes filled with shock. "Huh?" she finally managed to question.
"Your adopted parents. The . . . landlubbers," Elektra spat the word, "I gave you to. Were they good to you?"
Kitty nodded even as she reminded her heart to beat and her lungs to breathe. She inhaled several times before managing to get out, "Y-Y-Yes. They were the best . . . adopted parents I could have had."
Her answer seemed to please Elektra. "Were you happy?"
Remembering the deadly situation she was in, Kitty shook herself and forced herself to swallow her shock. "That's two questions."
"Fair enough." Elektra nodded, but her pleased smile did not waver as she clinked her blade with her daughter's again. "Resume."
It took Kitty a few seconds to regain her form. Even then, she still could not completely recover from her surprise. Why did Elektra care if her parents had been good to her or if her childhood had been happy when she had abandoned her, when she had clearly never wanted her? The knowledge that she could ask her and be awarded with an actual answer drove Kitty forward, and Elektra soon found herself struggling to defend herself from her own daughter's blows.
"What have you done to her, bitch!" Autolycus fiercely demanded of his captive. He had watched helplessly as Paige had swallowed the herb and the red spots that had began on her face had quickly spread through her body. Her head hung so that he could no longer see her face, but she seemed to be breathing shallowly. He feared she may well be dying, and that fear grew when Paige's coughing produced blood that splattered down on the floor below.
"Apparently just saved my life by tryin' dat ding on your little twerp of a friend first," Belladonna replied carelessly as she moved away from Paige and approached Autolycus instead. She came to a stop so close against his body that he could feel her armored bodice pressing against his skin, and her rum-soaked breath brushed over his face as she talked. "Now it's our turn." She twirled his mustache first, but then her hands ran lower. She began to tear his clothes off even as her lips descended upon his.
Autolycus had never thought that he would ever turn down a woman, but after seeing what this heartless bitch had done to Paige and having had the golden promise of a love with Elizabeth, he wanted no part of the woman who was currently kissing him as though she wanted to swallow him whole. He tried to fight against her, but his struggles were all for naught as she did not seem to pay them even the slightest attention and he could not knock her off of him or, for that matter, even manage to touch her except with his lips.
"Well, what should I do to you next?" Callisto wondered aloud as she walked around Gabrielle, her hand grazing the bard's injured body. She stopped at her head and gazed down at Gabrielle's burnt skull in thought. "There's just so many things . . . " Her fingernails gently touched Gabrielle's scalp. "There's the chain whip, the knee splitter, the Spanish tickler, the revolving drum, the Spanish crusher, the breast ripper . . . "
"Whatever you're going to do," Gabrielle told her, "just do it already." Her body already seemed to ache all over, and she couldn't bare the suspense of not knowing which of the horrid instruments Callisto named would next befall her.
"My, my. Still with the tongue? You always have been quite the witty one, both with your tongue and your quill." A sudden smile broke over Callisto's face. "Ah, yes. I know just what to do to you, my little bard." Gabrielle cried out as Callisto's fingernails raked across her burned scalp, but Callisto continued walking across her cabin and did not seem to pay any attention whatsoever to the sound.
She picked up a strange-looking, metal instrument that Gabrielle's green eyes peered warily at as Callisto approached her again. She stopped at her left hand this time. Her fingers stroked Gabrielle's. "It's perfect," she announced gleefully. "You'll never be able to write again or touch your beloved Xena."
She grasped Gabrielle's fingers and placed them in between the two metal sides of the thumbscrew. Gabrielle struggled to pull her hand away, but the chains and Callisto held her tight. With one hand, Callisto kept Gabrielle's hand in the thumbscrew. With her other, she began cranking the turn.
Gabrielle could not bare the thought that her fingers would be taken. The possibility of never again being able to hold or touch the love of her life or even write a single word brought renewed tears to her eyes and made her struggle even harder. Soon, however, Callisto did not have to hold her hand still as the thumbscrew's metal sides clenched it between its jaws.
"Please . . . no . . . not my fingers . . . " She would rather give her toes, her tongue, or just about any other body part than the use of her hands, but Gabrielle knew begging would do her no good. Callisto's grin grew bigger as she continued to increase the pressure until it broke Gabrielle's fingers off of her very hand. Gabby screamed as the pain surged through her, and Callisto joyfully moved on to her right hand.
Piper had not known what to expect when the Sorceress had approached her where she lay chained to her bed. She had tried not to tremble as the Sorceress circled her like a predator circling its prey and her hands had reached out, touching Piper in places she had never before thought that a woman would touch any woman. She was now trembling like a leaf in a full-scale hurricane. "Wh-What are you going to do with me?" Her words came out as a choked whisper.
"Your aunt's more my taste. She has more power and beauty than you'll ever have, so I think . . . Mmm . . . " The Sorceress mused more to herself than to Piper. "Yes, I do believe I will use you as a guinea pig, my dear, while I listen to your aunt's cries." She glided back to the trap door and tapped on it loudly with the heel of her boot. "Do you hear me, slave?" she called down.
"Yes, Mistress," came Ororo's reply. "What do you wish of me?"
The Sorceress smiled, clearly pleased with the response, and began to chant in Latin, lifting the spell she had placed on Ororo. It did not take long before she heard the other woman's frantic whisperings. "No . . . No, it's dark . . . Where am I? What am I doing here?"
"Aunt Ororo!" Piper cried.
The Sorceress' eyes flashed angrily at Piper. "No, no, no! We can't have that!" she chided.
Piper had been about to tell Ororo what had happened and where she was when she found an iron gag clamping her mouth shut. There was one tiny hole to the side that allowed her oxygen, but no matter how desperately she tried to talk, all she could manage was squeals.
"Piper?" Ororo called. "Piper, where are you! Piper!"
The Sorceress swept through her cabin. She rummaged around outside of Piper's vision for some time before returning with the weirdest looking helmet Piper had ever before seen. The cap was attached to metal bars on each side and had something akin to a large, iron propeller sticking out of the top bar. Part of her wanted to ask what it was, but the other part was to afraid to do so. Even if she had completely wanted to, she would never have been able to ask for the iron gag that kept her words silenced.
The Sorceress fitted Piper's head underneath the upper cap and secured her chin above the bottom bar. As she then began to turn the top screw, Piper felt pain explode through her brain. The pain descended down her skull into her teeth, which began to shatter and splinter into her very jaw.
Donkey had tried valiantly to stop Anamaria. His hooves had not stopped kicking once nor had he ceased to struggle against his chains, but still he could not break free of them or manage to reach the bitch who had his Will at her mercy. He had watched in horror as she had continued turning a screw on the horrible instrument she had shoved into Will's rear, and he had heard the sounds it had caused as it had expanded, breaking bones, tearing flesh, and sending blood oozing out of Will's rear.
Tears were running down Donkey's face, and it was the longest it had ever been. He ached to stop her but didn't know how without risking himself too dangerously. When she extended the Pear to its full maximum and Will screamed again, this time louder and longer than any time Donkey had ever heard him scream before, he could no longer stand it. He did the only thing he had been able to think of that would reach Anamaria: he opened his mouth and let his spit fly.
Anamaria screeched, and her hand clawed the spit away from her face. "How dare you!" she seethed at Donkey. "You're not getting out of this, though! You're going to live to tell Sparrow every single detail of what I did to his lover boy here!" Anamaria exclaimed through clenched teeth. Even as she talked, however, she pulled a knife from her belt.
Anamaria threw the knife, and its blade embedded deep into one of Donkey's hind legs. He brayed in pain but still wanted to help his Will. "Spitting on me won't get you or him anywhere," Anamaria told him. "You do it again, I'll cut off your dick and put an iron gag on you. Then I'll go right back to the boy."
Donkey stared at her in horror. Was there nothing he could do to help his Will!
Anamaria's attention returned to Will as she pulled the Pear out of his buttocks. Donkey could not bare to look at the blood and other goo that coated its orifice. He turned his head away, hurting for his boy, even as Anamaria tossed the Pear to the side and started to turn Will over. Will moaned and groaned as she moved him, then screamed again as he was pressed back down to his mutilated rear.
With Will laying on his back again, Anamaria reached for a new tool. "What are you going to do with that?" Donkey demanded, looking back at her to see what horrible thing was going to happen to his boy next. "Huh? Huh? What are you going to do with that, bitch?"
"Shut up and watch," Anamaria hissed in return even as she brought the tool that looked suspiciously like a nutcracker dangerously close to Will's right testes.
Prue could not stand to watch Brendan as he writhed and whimpered at Helvira's merciless tortures. She had thought she was only going to carve her name into him, but after that was done, the bitch had continued carving inch after inch of flesh away. Prue could not stop crying but knew that her tears would not help Brendan, her sisters, or herself. It would not help any of them, but surely there was something she could do that would?
Prue began to rake her mind for a solution, and her tear-filled eyes roamed those who shared the cage with her. Carl had not left her side, and the animals huddled together. For once, not even Gonk seemed to notice the felines, and indeed his body was wriggled tightly in between Kit and Sir Didymus' steed, Ambrosious. Even now, Simon seemed determined to protect his charges as the old Pirate stood with the bulk of his belly almost entirely shielding Jasmine and the children from sight.
It was Frederic who caught Prue's attention, however, and she frowned in puzzlement as she watched the young man sneaking about in the shadows. Just what on Earth was he up to? she wondered as he came up behind Smee. His hand darted out toward Smee's head. She was about to call a warning to Smee when she remembered that the man was the boy's father's lover. That memory puzzled her even more and gave Frederic his chance to pluck a strand of what little remained of Smee's hair.
"Ow!" Smee exclaimed as he whipped around to face his son. "What the heck did you do that for?" he demanded, gingerly rubbing his sore head.
Frederic shrugged and, with a sheepish face, explained, "Sorry, but my hair's too curly."
Smee looked at the boy as though he'd taken leave of his senses. "Too curly for what?" he whispered as he heard Helvira stirring.
"Be quiet in there!" Helvira commanded. "If you disturb me again, I'll burn your asses straight off!" She turned back to her prey, and those in the cell released a collective sigh of relief.
"What are you going to do with Smee's hair, Frederic?" Prue whispered, praying that Helvira would not hear her.
The blonde glanced over to the bitch, then back at Prue. "I'm going to use it to try to pick our locks," he whispered in response.
Prue's eyes widened in realization. Of course! What a dummy she'd been! Auntie 'Ro had almost succeeded in getting Clark's collar off! If they could pick each other's locks and get the blasted collars off, they would have their powers, and if they had their powers . . . ! Hope surged through Prue. If she had her power, she could knock Helvira straight off of Brendan!
Frederic had already set to work on his own collar, so Prue turned to Carl. "Do you know how?" she whispered, kneeling before him. The Gnome nodded, and Prue pulled out a piece of her own hair. "Teach me," she pleaded as she slipped her hair into the keyhole in his collar.
"I don't know why you have to act like you don't like it," Judson commented, referring to the statuesque stillness Faith had fought to keep her body in ever since he had climbed onto her, "or want."
"Because I don't," Faith snarled back at him.
"Of course you don't," Judson chided as he strove deeper inside her. "Just like you never wanted it before. Oh, wait. I forgot," he spoke, his tone and facial expression those of a man who was obviously lying as he teased her. "That was always an act too. The little girl seeking redemption for killing her mother but, in truth, being always so eager for the old Priest to take her into his study, fuck her, hurt her . . . "
"I'm not like that any more," Faith stated through clenched teeth.
"You're not?" Judson asked in exaggerated surprise. "What happened? You don't need forgiveness any more?"
"Don't tell me you think you got forgiveness." He laughed, but still she refused to respond. "You'll always need forgiveness," he told her, his voice sounding strange. The next voice that came out of his mouth was not his own but was instead a voice that Faith had never thought she would ever hear again -- at least, not while on Earth. "You'll always need my forgiveness, Faith."
Faith's mouth fell agape, and her dark eyes finally lifted to stare at the face of her mother in shock. "What?" she gasped out. "What the Hell!"
"You'll always need my forgiveness, Faith," her mother's face and voice repeated, "but you'll never have it. You killed me."
"What? No! NO!" This couldn't be! She could not be looking at her mother nor could the top part of her mother's body be attached to the bottom part of the Priest who strove still deeper inside her!
Her mother's hand caressed Faith's cheek, and Judson sneered inwardly as he felt her trembling underneath his touch. "Oh, Faith, why'd you have to do it? Why'd you kill me? Did I really deserve that? Was I really ever that horrible?"
"NO!" Faith yelled. "NO! THIS CAN'T BE! IT ISN'T! YOU'RE NOT HER! YOU CAN'T BE!" Her head shook wildly, but the rest of her body trembled even more.
Lilah's laughter sounded from a corner, and Faith's mother's laugh joined it. "NO! NO! YOU'RE NOT HER! YOU CAN'T BE!"
"But he is," Lilah spoke up as she slid back up to the table. She took a handful of Faith's hair in her hand and used it to yank her head back down to the table. Then she slammed her lips down upon hers. She knew that Judson was a shapeshifter and not really Faith's mother. She knew -- and she relished seeing the terrified reaction it brought from Faith.
"Why did you kill me, Faith?" Judson asked through the image and sound of Faith's mother. "Didn't you ever love me?"
Lilah pulled back to watch the rest of the play unfolding before her.
Tears were now streaming down Faith's face. "I -- I -- I -- " She broke. "YOU NEVER LOVED ME!"
"But I did."
Faith sobbed even as Judson filled her again. The face of her mother grew blurry as it reformed back into Judson's smiling face. Judson's and Lilah's laughter echoed in Faith's head. Their voices seemed to fill her mind, but images of those she loved came to her. She clung to the memories of Dawson, Salem, Lex, Jack, Katrina, and Angel. "They'll come for me," she announced to which Judson's face grew dark and his laughter abruptly stopped. "They'll come for me!" she repeated again.
"Will they? What makes you think that?"
"Because they care about me!" Faith cried. "They -- They love me!"
Judson laughed. "They really fed you some great lines, didn't they?" he snarled down at her. His hand clenched her jaw, and his face became that of her mother's again. "No one will ever love you, Faith, because no one cares about a murderous whore!"
Faith trembled, and more tears fell from her eyes. "They'll come for me," she repeated. They'll come for me . . . Won't they?
Judson pulled himself up off of Faith. "Lilah," he called, "time for Plan Two." Faith did not see them leave for the tears that clouded her vision.
