"Wake her up," Pietre said, with a sharp motion of his hand toward the triplets.

Alec stepped up, ghostlike in the dark room. At the center of the otherwise empty studio was a woman. She looked quite helpless, bound to a chair beneath the harsh glow of a lone trouble light hooked to the ceiling. Alec tugged the black hood off of the captive's head and her short blonde hair lifted briefly with the static electricity it produced.

Confused and bordering on outrage, she immediately looked around. Orienting on Pietre, her eyes flared wide and she tried to speak the words of a cantrip that would send a psychic blast his way strong enough to stop the heart of another witch, but nothing happened.

He laughed and closed the distance between them, bare feet silent on the concrete floor. "Don't be foolish," he chided, as though speaking to a child. "Do you really think I wouldn't be thorough in binding you? I taught you."

That last sentence registered vicious and the triplets withdrew into the shadows of the room, wary of what that tone meant. The woman tied to the chair could sense it too, but she didn't let her fear show.

"You didn't teach me," she scoffed. "You tried to seduce me."

"That's what the Dark Arts are, my dear," he said, back to his silky purr again. "A seduction."

He reached out and played with her hair. She tried to duck but he caught her chin with his other hand, forcing the touch on her. She glowered up at him.

"I don't like this look on you," he opined. "You're a pretty girl. You used to care about such things."

"Fuck you," she snapped, offended.

He chuckled then sobered. "Tell me, my dear. Where are the others?"

"I'm not your dear," she volleyed.

He tipped his head slightly. "If you don't tell me, you do know I will take the information from you. If I have to do that…" He got right up in her face then, close enough that she could smell the cognac on his lips. "I will make sure it hurts you as much as possible."

Her dark eyes were resolute, but he saw her lower lip tremble slightly. He stroked her cheek gently then cupped her jaw in his palm. It was a lover's caress.

"Tell me where they are, Madison. Tell me where Zoe and Kyle took the other Daggers."

...

-= AMERiCAN HoRRoR SToRY =-

...

The veil of unconsciousness slipped away, trading blackness for dim blue light cast by a lamp over in the corner. Constance tried to sit up but found herself bound to the bed she was in, her wrists and ankles secured with quality black leather restraints. Seeing them summoned unsettling thoughts of Rubber Man so she quickly put her attention to what was around her.

Seated in an armchair under the lamp, Billie Dean sat doing a puzzle in a tattered old book of crosswords. She was overdressed for the role of sit-in nursemaid in her taupe-and-mint pantsuit. The room appeared to be hotel room, though it lacked the super-clean scent of bleach most hotels used to carry. The room smelled of its age.

"How dare you!" Constance accused, her strength rallying quickly. "You have no right to hold me hostage!"

Billie Dean put her pencil in the book to mark her place and set it aside on the nearby end table. She lit a cigarette. "You're not being held hostage. You were brought back to life and tried to kill yourself. The restraints are there for your own protection."

The bound woman fell silent as she struggled to recall the events of the last few hours. She could only find general impressions of fear and strife, which scared her even more than the restraints did. The last solid memory she had was of talking with Michael in the kitchen back home. Something about the bunker up in the Hollywood Hills.

"Michael… he brought me back to life?" Constance looked and saw her hand then and moaned miserably. "Oh, sweet Jesus! What has he done to me?"

Billie Dean was unimpressed. "He overturned your death sentence."

"He made me old!"

"Nature made you old," the medium refuted. "Made us both old." She sucked on her cigarette.

Constance tried to tug free of her bonds, but the restraints held firm. "Let me go!"

"I don't think that would be a good idea right now," Billie Dean said.

She threw a desperate, if irritated, look at her former friend. "At least bring me a Goddamned cigarette then!"

Billie Dean wavered then caved. She got up carried the cigarette she was smoking over to the bed. She hesitated, then sat down on the edge of the mattress and held the butt close to Constance's lips.

"Small mercies," the woman muttered and sucked on the filter.

Her lips brushed Billie Dean's fingers and the psychic stiffened as a vision hit her, sudden and unbidden. In an instant she knew Michael's plan and what would happen to Constance if the ritual went through as planned. Horrified, her hand started to shake. She dropped the cigarette and the ember burned right through the thin nightgown Constance was wearing. The woman yelped in pain and Billie Dean hastily scooped the cigarette off of her.

"I'm so sorry!" she said, voice trembling with emotion. It wasn't just the cigarette she was apologizing for.

"Jesus H. Christ!" Constance swore.

She would have added more except that Billie Dean crushed the cigarette unceremoniously on the bedside table and started working on unbuckling the nearest wrist cuff that held Constance to the bed.

"You're going to let me go?" the bound woman asked, finding it hard to believe.

"I'm so, so sorry," Billie Dean blathered as she fumbled with the restraint. "I didn't know. I didn't know what he was going to do."

She wasn't making sense. Constance had a feeling whatever upset her was important to know. "What? What is who going to do?"

The cuff came off and Billie Dean moved immediately to the first ankle cuff she could reach. "Michael. He wants to use you in some depraved ritual…" She shook her head, not wanting to describe what she saw in that psychic blast. "We have to get you out of here."

Constance blinked back tears. She was in a waking nightmare. She wanted to go home, where everything made sense. She lay there while Billie Dean hurriedly took off the other cuffs. When she was free, she sat up. She felt weak and heavy and didn't know if it was because of whatever Michael did to bring her back or simply because she was flesh. Considering the state Jeremiah had returned in, she wouldn't be surprised if her body wasn't working like it should.

"I don't think I can walk. Not far, anyway."

Billie Dean looked around frantically, like the room itself would offer a solution. It held nothing of help. "I'll help you. We just need to get you down to the service entrance of the kitchen. I have a car parked out back."

Constance got to her feet with a soft groan of effort. Her bones ached. Her tendons ached. Everything ached. She took a few steps then had to lean on Billie Dean the rest of the way to the elevator. She propped herself on the wall for the ride. When the elevator reached the ground floor, Billie Dean peeked out. The way was clear so she helped Constance down the hall as quickly as she could go.

It wasn't a difficult escape, but it was a hasty one. They didn't take anything, not even shoes for Constance. Billie Dean just loaded her into the passenger's side of the sedan then scrambled into the driver's seat. She threw Constance a trembling smile as she started the car.

"Was it Thelma or Louise who did the driving?" Billie Dean quipped as she threw it into reverse.

"Hell if I know," grumped Constance, staring out the window as they drove away from the hotel. "I don't watch those lesbian films."

…

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading my stuff. I really appreciate the comments I get. I also appreciate you lurkers who are following this story.

So. I wasn't expecting Billie Dean to free Constance. This will be an interesting wrinkle to iron out. At least Pietre's doing his job.

Speaking of, Madison in this story is the same as the one in my Teenage Frankenstein fic. If you haven't seen it, it's a relatively short read. It was written in tandem with the show as it aired, so it will probably read better if you follow along with the show for the first 5 episodes. After that it kind of wanders its own way. Events in that fic tie into this one and have since the beginning of Armageddon.

Next time we'll see Michael handles this sudden change of plans.