Chapter 13

Author's Note: Wee! Basta was so fun to write in this chapter. I like how he flips around from being really nasty to trying to be nice. Dafne is kind of a wimp in this chapter but I felt this was realistic since she had the threat of death hanging over her head. Poor Dafferz.

Skyridge: Yay crazy weirdo spam! Rolls in spam (can you roll in spam?) I'm glad you enjoyed Silvio being back in the picture. I missed that kid too. Lol yeah Basta's pretty adorable. I should have the other chapters back up soon now that I've filled in the gap. I've been thinking of writing a one-shot of what happened when Pietro took Basta home when he was drunk. I have a slashy idea in my head. Oh, I also had an idea that one time while Cappy was up north, the men decided to have a paintball war in the village. Dante's idea, how awesome. Cappy comes back and the village is splattered bright colours LOL. My brain amuses me! Ciao bella, as Pietro would say.

Ziliverina: Aw thank you. I personally love writing Cappy because he is pure evil yet sophisticated. Love at second sight? I think Basta's slightly interested in Dafne at this point but not head over heels by any means heh. Your English is great by the way!

Dafne woke with a start. Someone was banging on the door of her prisoner cell.

"Rise and shine little mouse."

It was Basta. Dafne sat up on her straw bed, her heart beating wildly from the exertion of being so suddenly wrenched out of sleep.

The door swung open and Dafne narrowed her eyes against the bright flood of sunlight. Basta was nothing more than a shadow in the middle of it. But she made out his teeth as he grinned,

"Sleep well princess? A straw bed's not much but it's better than sleeping on cold hard earth. Don't you think?"

Dafne didn't reply. Bathed in sunlight, she nonetheless felt cold in her bones. It was the coldness of fear. Basta hadn't shown up for a visit. He was here to take her to Capricorn.

"Get up," Basta said more abruptly when he didn't receive an answer, "Capricorn wants to see you."

Dafne rose unwillingly. As she moved past Basta in the doorway, he reached out and brushed the back of her head. She flinched, whirling round to face him,

"What are you..." her voice was high and accusing.

"Calm down," Basta said, regarding her with slight annoyance, "You had straw in your hair. I was only brushing it off. You want to look presentable for Capricorn don't you?"

Dafne stared at him. She was about to face the wrath of a devil in human form. Her appearance was the least of her concerns.

Basta's hand gravitated towards her shoulder - to the piece of straw clinging there. Dafne jumped backwards.

"Don't... I can do it."

She batted it away then proceeded to brush herself somewhat frenziedly from head to toe for any other hitch-hikers.

"There," she said, a shrill edge in her voice, "presentable enough?"

Presentable enough to meet a man who might sentence me to death?

Basta had watched her aggressive grooming with amusement.

"I'd say so," he said. Dafne didn't like the way his eyes roved over her slightly out of breath form.

She was glad when he turned away to lock up her cell.

"Come on," he said when he finished, leading her away from the row of prison houses.

Dafne glanced back over her shoulder. She hoped her punishment would be continued incarceration, that and not something else.

Her eyes flicked warily to Basta's hip, to his knife, swallowing hard. She remembered how terrifying it had been the day he had kidnapped her, when he had pressed it to her skin. Her blood ran cold thinking that it might do greater harm to her.

"I suppose you're curious as to what became of Resa," Basta said, drawing Dafne's attention away from his weapon.

"Resa," Dafne said not without some surprise. She had been so preoccupied with her own fate that she had quite forgotten about her friend. Dafne was suddenly ravenous for news, "Yes. Did... you capture her?"

Basta smiled and Dafne knew the answer before he spoke it,

"Oh yes."

Dafne's heart went out to Resa, her companion in escape and now her companion in failure.

"Don't look so miserable," Basta went on, "It's a good thing we found her. She wouldn't have survived otherwise. Not after being bitten by that snake."

Dafne halted, blinking uncertainly. Had she heard him right? Resa? Bitten?

"What did you say?"

Basta stopped and turned to face her,

"I said Resa was bitten by a snake, most likely trod on the thing by accident since she wouldn't have been able to see it in the dark."

Dafne processed this rather vividly in her mind, imagining fangs flying at Resa in the dark, striking her. She envisioned her friend crumpling, her hand clamping over her mouth in horror,

"Oh God. Is she alright?"

Basta shrugged,

"She's very weak but Orlanda says she'll live. It would have been a different story if we hadn't given her antidote as soon as we found her."

Dafne breathed a sigh of relief. Resa captured was better than Resa dead, filled with poison.

"Aren't you glad we captured you when we did, little mouse," Basta continued, "Otherwise you might have been bitten too," he grew smug, "Didn't I tell you about the snakes, didn't I tell you. All over the forest, and it's not fun being bitten either. Ask Resa, well you can't ask her at the moment, she's unconscious, but trust me, from what I saw it's a rather painful experience..." he dropped his voice to mutter to himself, "only what Resa deserved."

Dafne stared at him in disgust.

"How could you say that?"

Basta frowned at her tone,

"Say what?"

"That Resa deserved to be bitten," Dafne hissed.

Basta folded his arms unrepentantly,

"I might remind you that Resa once set a snake on me," he growled, "So what happened to her is rather fitting from my point of view."

Dafne gaped at him, stunned by the pettiness of Basta's character. It was obviously too much for him to overlook his grudge against Resa to show compassion for her suffering like a decent human being.

"She only set a snake on you because you wouldn't leave her alone," she said, her anger making her carelessly blunt, "Because you couldn't accept that she didn't want you. Small wonder considering the kind of man you are, the kind who..."

Dafne had a list of Basta's faults in her head. But her courage in saying them fled the instant she saw the fury swarming on Basta's face. She suddenly wished she had kept her mouth shut. Saying such things to Basta, however honest, was akin to batting a bee hive with a stick, provoking something dangerous that would come after you and make you sorry for doing it.

"Come on," he prompted in a low deadly voice, "Finish that little speech of yours. What kind of man am I?"

Dafne found herself pressing her lips together even though she had no desire to speak.

"Well?" Basta's voice rose a harsh octave, causing her to flinch, "Aren't you going to tell me?"

Dafne glanced about in the irrational hope there might be someone around to pull her away from the confrontation. But there was no one besides them. She doubted any of the men would intervene if they were present. She was on her own.

"No?" Basta said, "What's the matter, cat suddenly got your tongue? How about I tell you what kind of man I am instead?"

"Can't you just take me to Capricorn," Dafne couldn't believe she was saying this but right now Capricorn seemed preferable to Basta in his current state.

"I'll take you to Capricorn when I'm good and ready," Basta shouted and Dafne felt something sharper than dismay at his response.

His hand strayed to his hip and she realised what she was feeling was fear. The knife appeared, the blade glinting almost triumphantly in the sunlight.

Dafne closed her eyes, waited a beat then reopened them. The knife was still there. Had she thought she could wish it away?

It dawned on her that knife might not be for show, that Basta might use it to gut her like a fish. He might kill her and Capricorn probably wouldn't mind that much if he did, maybe he was only going to have her executed anyway.

"Basta," she said, eyes flicking feverishly back and forth from Basta's face to the blade, "Please..."

"Be quiet," Basta replied, his voice calmer. Perhaps he figured there was no need to yell since he had his knife out, that she would hang on his every word because of it. He was right if he thought that. "I gave you an opportunity to talk before but you didn't take it. Now it's time you listen to me."

Basta took a breath like a man composing himself before a speech on stage.

"The kind of man I am," he began with the title of said speech, "First off, I'm the kind of man who doesn't take kindly to haughty little madams running their mouth off at me, especially when they don't know the other side to the story they're telling. Let's get that perfectly clear."

He paused, as if expecting some kind of response. Dafne concentrated on the tip of his knife and said nothing.

"Second of all, I'm a man who is talented with a knife," Basta grinned, full of pride, "Oh yes I'm rather good, the best perhaps, at least around here. That makes me rather special, I think."

Dafne cringed as he pressed the flat of the knife to her chin. It was so cold against the heat of the day.

"I'm the kind of man who doesn't mind blood, little mouse. Not at all when it's not mine. It's so easy to cut someone, as easy as tearing paper."

Dafne imagined paper, imagined blood and noticed she was trembling. She would have given anything to push this maniac away and run but she was rooted to the spot, embedded like a flower, feeling like the knife might fuse to her skin if he kept it there any longer.

As if reading her mind, Basta moved the blade away, to her relief, only to press it back down on the same place. She felt a surge of anger. He was so cruel. But the knife was still there and she did nothing except let him continue talking,

"But just because I'm good with a knife doesn't mean I can't be..." he paused, searching for the right word, smiling when he found it, "Nice."

The word came out like a hiss. It was frightening the way Basta said nice.

He nodded,

"Yes I can be nice," he kept hissing the word to give it emphasis, "I can be nice to a person if they are nice to me."

Basta's free hand hovered before her and Dafne had a dreadful feeling he might touch her. But he didn't, he frowned and looked off to one side,

"I was nice to Resa but she decided it wasn't worth being nice to me."

Dafne wished Basta didn't look so sad, like he was a victim. He wasn't. He couldn't be. He had forfeited that right by doing the evil things he did.

I'm not going to feel sorry for you. I'm not.

Basta turned back, studied her a moment. He seemed to see something telling him that she wasn't a sympathetic ear. His expression hardened into one less pitiable,

"In spite of that," he growled, "When I found Dirtyfingers trying to hide Resa in the forest..."

Dafne's mouth opened in surprise. Dirtyfingers? Was he referring to Dustfinger?

"And she was dying of snakebite," Basta ignored her gaping, "I chose to save her life. If I was a pettier man, I would have let her die, told Capricorn she was dead by the time I reached her. But I didn't. I. Saved. Her. Life."

There was a gleam of triumph in Basta's eyes as he said this.

He leaned forward, throwing his weight on his knife as he did so, deepening its press into her skin. His face was extremely close, too close to her own.

But she didn't dare turn her head, didn't dare look away, thinking the knife, the knife. His amber eyes were like two suns and his teeth were quite white,

"Remember that," he said, his voice a terrifying intimate whisper, "Remember that before you look down that pretty nose at me."

He tapped her on the nose and she jumped. The reaction produced a laugh from him, a laugh which didn't seem cruel, just amused.

He slid away from her, taking his knife with him. Dafne watched him uneasily, fearing he might return. But he didn't. He clicked his knife shut and an audible sigh shuddered from Dafne's lips, almost a sob.

Thank God.

Basta stowed the blade from sight.

Relief felt just intense as fear, hitting her with the force of a strong wave. She felt weak in the legs. She leaned forward, trying to regain strength and composure, greedily gulping air.

He's not going to kill me.

A voice of gloom piped up inside her head,

Who's to say he's not going to kill you later, if Capricorn tells him to.

Dafne straightened with the slow cautious movement of a hunted animal. She eyed Basta with renewed fear. He smiled at her pleasantly, unnerving her because his smile made it seem as if they were friends. But they weren't friends. He was her kidnapper. Her enemy. Her... executioner?

This man might end up killing me, she thought, suddenly finding it hard to breath in his presence.

Basta kept smiling, none the wiser,

"I'll take you to Capricorn now," he said.

Dafne went to shake her head but stopped, knowing it was pointless to protest. That part of her fate was set in stone, beyond that lay grim uncertainty. She would soon find out what Capricorn had in store for her. Basta took hold of her arm.

Mortola was laying in wait for Dafne. As soon as she opened the door, she slapped Dafne hard across the face.

"You ungrateful little trollop!" she screeched at her, the sound of her shrill voice more painful than the blow, "Capricorn generously takes you in, puts a roof over your head, food in your belly, and this is how you repay him? By running away?"

Dafne stared at her incredulously. Mortola was acting as if Dafne had escaped from the house of saint.

"But you will rue such insolence," the old woman carried on, a cruel smile on her lips, "Indeed you will. Mark my words. Now come with me."

She reached for Dafne with a claw-like hand but Basta moved to shield her,

"I'm taking her," he said, sounding like a stubborn child, "Capricorn said for me to bring her."

He hurriedly dragged Dafne past Mortola before the old woman could object, which undoubtedly she would have. Basta didn't give her time to catch up with them either, not stopping until they had reached the outside of Capricorn's bedroom door.

"She hit you pretty hard," Basta said in a way that sounded almost sympathetic.

Dafne's eyes were trained on the door. There was a monster beyond this panel of wood, a devil dressed in red, waiting for her.

"I'm fine," she murmured distantly.

Fine, she almost laughed when she registered what she had said, fine.

She wasn't fine.

Not at all.

She jumped when Basta placed his hand on her shoulder. Her head jerked to stare at him with a wild tense expression.

"Remember what I said. Grovel like hell. It's the only thing that will work," he told her.

She found it very strange for this man to be advising on her best course of action. He could very well be her executioner, but he was acting more like...

A friend. She didn't understand. Why did Basta care what happened to her? If he liked his knife so much why wasn't he rooting for her downfall?

She was about to ask him.

Why are you helping me?

He didn't give her time to say it. He knocked on the door.

"Enter," came a cavernous voice Dafne had hoped to never hear again, a voice which made her freeze up.

Basta ended up having to push her through the door.

Capricorn was where she imagined him to, in his armchair. He watched her with dispassionate gaze of a lizard. She felt as fragile as an insect.

"Well my dear," he said, "How did you enjoy your foray into the woods?"

Dafne opened her mouth, prematurely because she had no answer ready. What answer would best convince Capricorn not to have her hung, shot, burnt alive, drowned, stabbed repeatedly...

Her mind was stuck in a loop of punishments. She couldn't think of anything else.

She turned to look helplessly at Basta. He stared at her with almost pained intensity as if he were trying to reach her telepathically.

Grovel. The word appeared in her mind, huge and flashing. Grovel. You need to grovel.

Meanwhile Basta had given up hope for her and started to speak,

"I think..."

Dafne cut him off by collapsing onto her knees. She forgot him, concentrating solely on Capricorn. There was a flicker of surprise in the slight rise of his eyebrow.

"Please forgive me," desperation made her voice high and breathy, her words coming out as fast as she could think them, "It was foolish of me to have tried to escape. I won't ever do it again. I swear. Please don't punish me too harshly. Spare my life at least. Give me another chance to serve you more faithfully... Lord Capricorn."

Having run out of things to say she bowed her head as a sign of humility. Insanely nervous, she waited for his response. She heard him shifting in his chair but forced herself not to look up. She didn't want to break the illusion of reverence.

"That was quite a performance," he said finally. She couldn't tell if he was pleased or not, "Wouldn't you agree Basta?"

"I think she's rather sorry for what she's done," Basta replied.

Capricorn made a small noise in his throat. Dafne imagined him inspecting his fingers,

"Trouble-makers often are when faced with punishment for their actions," he said, "They all sing very prettily to get themselves off the hook. This little bird is no different."

Dafne cringed at Capricorn's knowledgeability.

"I doubt she'll ever try escape again," Basta said.

"There are ways of ensuring that," Capricorn said, making Dafne fear the worst as she could guess what he meant by that.

"It would be a shame to kill her," Basta said, "She's pretty after all, not a beauty like Resa..." he trailed off a moment, Dafne wondered if Capricorn had shot him a glare, "But still, girls like her are hard to come by. She's well-trained, she used to be a maid before she came here..."

Dafne scowled. Well-trained. Basta made her sound like a dog.

"Not well-trained enough to not attempt escape," Capricorn observed dryly.

Dafne heard Basta's jacket rustle as he shrugged,

"She won't do it again."

"You know that for a fact do you?"

"She knows you'll have me kill her next time."

"Why wait for a next time," Capricorn mused.

Dafne's head shot up fearfully,

"Please..." she began only to have Capricorn silence her.

"Enough entreaties," he said, looking bored, "I've already made up my mind."

Dafne's hands tightened into fists, wanting to cry, wanting to scream.

You can't have me killed!

She found herself holding back, waiting for him to announce her death sentence before she unleased the full force of her emotions.

"I need new personal maid."

Dafne stared at him dumbfounded.

She had been expecting something along the lines of: Basta, take this girl away and dispose of her.

But he hadn't said anything remotely like that.

"Sir?" Basta said, sounding just as bewildered as Dafne.

Capricorn sighed,

"I need a new personal maid," he sounded irritated at having to repeat himself, "while Resa recovers from her snakebite."

"What has that got to do with this one?" Basta said.

"She's pretty and well-trained isn't she," Capricorn replied, "That's what you said earlier."

"Yes."

"Then that makes her suitable to be my personal maid."

Dafne raised herself up on her knees in anticipation.

"I... suppose so," Basta said.

Capricorn clasped his hands together in a rather business-like manner.

"Then it's settled. Dafne will be my personal maid until the time Resa is fit to resume her duties."

Dafne slumped back down, feeling overwhelmed by this sudden turn of events.

She had thought for sure Capricorn would have her killed.

Now she was suddenly his personal maid.

She knew what that entailed, serving all his meals, dressing him. She had once viewed such tasks with repulsion, sympathising with Resa for having to do them.

Now Dafne would have to do them and she only felt relief, relief that she had been allowed to live.

She looked gratefully at Capricorn. She would soon regret looking at him in such a way.

Capricorn smiled. If she hadn't been so blinded with relief she would have detected the promise of suffering in that smile.

She should have been more suspicious. She should have known better. She should have been afraid.

To be continued...

Mwhahahahaha Cappy!