Tales from Arondell: Sodom - Chapter 11

Chapter Elven

Nathanael Scarlett

Sitting alone on the front porch, my gaze wanders over the dark yard: The spiked fence and skeletal trees, the ruined fountain, neglected garden beds, and the crumbling marble Ladies. Ivy and weeds choke everything in their path.

It's not the nicest place I've lived in. I'll probably move again in the future, when circumstances allow it, but for now this house serves it's purpose.

I sigh and light another cigarette, and stare into the drizzly darkness. Of course, it doesn't matter where I look: Desolation surrounds me. That's why I chose this house. It's the least likely place Matthias will look for me, and maintaining the image of neglect isn't difficult. Edwin helps in his own way, using his magic and the disrupted leyline energies to make this place look even more decrepit.

Like how I've felt ever since Matthias abducted me. I lean against the wall, flicking ash onto the frosty cement and drag on my cigarette: Savouring the taste of smoke and processed tobacco.

I don't come out here often and it's with good reason. But right now anything is better than being inside, risking a run-in with the Madam and knowing what Zaenack is doing with my Dove.

I massage the sudden pain in my chest and puff on my cigarette. He'll be done by now. He would've been done hours ago and now he's running late for work, but it's not something I want to contemplate.

Cold wind ruffles my hair and strokes my cheeks, carrying with it a familiar foul stench. Mmmm, exhaust fumes and sweet decay. Lovely. I snort in disgust. Low droning noises and a perpetual hum emanates from the Weep, but I'm not surprised.

Phages. Dozens, even hundreds of them, drawn by the pollution and squalid living conditions.

Since arriving in Sodom, this house and this area has been my sanctuary, but now it's my prison. It might even be my tomb. I rarely set foot outside the property, unless I have no other choice. That's one of the reasons why Zaenack is so important to me, and when I do leave, I don't venture beyond Barrow Flat. This is my territory and here I feel safe.

Soon that will change. Soon I'll get my life back – what I can reclaim – and I'll have my revenge. I've hidden from Matthias long enough.

Puffing on my smoke, I let my eyes wander to Crater Tower. For two years I've stared at the ugly edifice, and I know that won't change until the Harrier-Confessor is dealt with. My vision starts to blur and my mind wanders. Replaying horrors I struggle to forget...

I'm there again, in the labyrinth beneath Crater Tower, because part of me never left. After Matthias hacked away my identity, he didn't burn the bloody appendages like I thought he would. He preserved them, hanging them up like trophies and forever binding my spirit to the place. So I can't even venture beyond my territory. Not without unforeseeable consequences.

I think that's why Verune forbids me from Dream-walking. She fears I might be drawn to the Tower, and become lost to the broken energies of the Weep. But what she forgets is, Zaenack is my spirit anchor, as much as he is my eyes and ears elsewhere. I don't know what Edwin did when he found me, or what kind of effect it had on Zae. He certainly hasn't felt or acted any different, and honestly, if Edwin hadn't told me, I wouldn't know any better.

I do know, if anything bad ever happens to my slave, unless I can take back what was stolen from me, I'm fucked.

Phantom cries, trapped within the Tower and the broken leylines, echo in my head and I see them again. The tormented faces of mothers, fathers and especially their children, butchered in front of me. For nothing more than wearing my badge, but most of the time there was no reason at all.

My hand starts to shake – I nearly drop my cigarette – and my eyes fill with tears. For all those lives lost, those atrocities I couldn't prevent, and the bastard... The bastard blamed me for every life he took. With every cut, every body-part burned or hacked away, every bone crushed , belly slit, eye gauged out... With every shrieking child ripped from the mother's arms and murdered in the most inhumane ways imaginable, I was condemned.

I saw it all. Their tears, their blood, their anguish, their pleas for swift death and for mercy, and he ignored everything! I don't know how. I don't know why. No one human, no one alive can do all that and feel nothing, and I know he felt nothing because he had that coldness in his eyes. Like it was all part of his job, or for some greater good. I don't know.

I suck furiously on my cigarette and jam my knuckles into my chest, hoping to ease the pain. But it doesn't work. Nothing does. My tears fall, burning and blurring my one good eye, spilling down my craggy cheeks and dripping into my mouth.

If only I could've saved them, saved at least one of them, then maybe... Maybe I'd have no reason to believe all those terrible things he said. It is my fault! I weep bitterly, shoving my hands into my flooded eyes and resisting the sudden urge to gauge the other orb out. But if I do that, I'll be in eternal darkness, like I was in the Tower, with nothing but my thoughts and the terrible images in my head. What kind of a life is that?

But all of those poor people! They suffered needlessly because of me, and when I begged Matthias to stop, when I cried and screamed, and closed my eyes, he pried them open again. Even forced them to stay open with tiny hooks... Or he beat and raped me. Over and over again, until every vicious detail was drilled into my brain...

“Why, Morpheus?” I sob, ignoring my cigarette. “Why? I'm not the monster. He is.” Shaking my head because it's too much to comprehend, and I've allowed those lives to go unavenged , I smash my cigarette into the concrete and light another.

My fingers shake, making the tiny flame on the match waver, until the wind blows it out. Gods fucking damn it! Still crying, I strike another match, then another. Fifteen matches later, the tip of my smoke soggy and my eyes a blurry mess, I fling my cigarettes away from me. The battered tin hits the wall, landing near the door-mat and there it stays.

“Fucking damn you to the Spawning Pit, Matthias!” I throw myself back against the cold bricks and jam my fingers into my hair. My head and my chest hurt, a small price to pay, but it's nothing compared to the memories...

“Master?” The sound of Zae's voice and the door closing behind him, cuts into my thoughts. “Master, are you... Are you alright?” He steps closer and crouches beside me, pressing something metallic into my hands. My discarded cigarette tin.

I don't know what to say. It's such a small gesture, but it carries so much weight my first instinct is to recoil from him, putting as much distance between us as possible.

“Zae, please.” Clutching the tin like a shield, I hold my hand up, warding him off as I turn my face away. Yes, he's seen me cry many times before, he's held me through my darkest moments and weathered my violent outbursts, much like Verune and the other two have. But no slave should be constantly reminded of his Master's weaknesses. He needs me to be strong, and whole again. Everyone needs me to be the unbreakable pillar the Fraternity leans upon.

But I'm not... I'm not strong. I'm not worthy.

Crying even harder, I drop my face into my hands. “Just... Just go to work, Zae. Please. I-I need... My space.”

“Bullshit.” Disregarding my warning and proper behaviour, Zaenack throws his arms around me and pulls me close. Pressing my cheek to his chest and the steady beating of his heart. I'd fight back and push him aside, but it feels so good when someone holds me.

Familiar warmth and strength mingles with mild soap, shampoo, aftershave and minty toothpaste. He showered recently, probably ridding himself of Isabella's smell for my sake.

Still sobbing, I hold myself rigid in his arms and glance at the lead-light doors. Good. The Madam isn't watching us. The old battle-axe always seems to be around whenever Zae and I show vulnerability, or affection out in the open.

She doesn't approve of anything I do. So why do I still have her around?

“I'm not going anywhere until I know you're alright,” Zaenack murmurs, stroking my hair and rubbing my back. “So don't even try telling me otherwise.”

Damn. He knows me too well. I moan and rub my cheek against his chest. But I guess that's what happens after five years of being close to someone. Even when I shut myself off and push Zae away, he always knows what I'm feeling and how to deal with me. Which is almost always by force.

The exception was the year immediately after my escape from the Tower. Once Eddie found me and brought me home, I was shut up in my Sanctuary and closely monitored. Only the warlock and my companions were allowed to see me, of course by the Madam's ruling. I couldn't even see Zaenack, nor he see me and I wasn't lucid enough to challenge Verune.

I know Zae was heart-broken and I was too much of a mess to know anything. I couldn't even take care of myself let alone hold a decent conversation and be good company. I know that's why Zae strayed...

My tears slowly dry, replaced by a dull pain in my sinuses. I think I need a smoke.

Sighing wearily, I stare past my slave's arms and watch the dark yard beyond the front porch. Flickers of light ripple across the sky and thunder rumbles. Quiet rain drizzles the sombre scene, promising that Zae will get wet because he always walks to work. Though he might decide it's safer to travel through the tunnels.

Seeming to predict my mood, lightning flashes across the clouds, arcing around the distant Tower and the rain falls with greater force. I almost laugh at the irony, and Zaenack sighs.

“Looks like it's Under-Sodom for me tonight,” he grunts.

I nod against his chest. “Probably not such a bad thing.” I finally pull away from him, murmuring my thanks and open my cigarette tin. He lights my smoke for me, and reaches into his breast pocket for his pipe and tobacco.

Two gentlemen, sitting on the porch, quietly enjoying a smoke and the storm. I like that image.

“I should probably give Mister Mallory a call,” my Love sighs, peering through the rain sliding off the verandah. “Tell him I'll be later than usual.”

I nod and cross one foot over the other. “How long will you be gone for?” I drag on my cigarette.

Zaenack shrugs and puffs on his pipe. “Three or four days.” He blows out a thin streamer of smoke. “Depends on how rowdy the Tankard and the Docks get, and how much contraband he needs transported.”

I nod again and inhale with a sigh. As a pub bouncer, and a guard for Liam Mallory's black-market pharmaceuticals, Zae is often caught in dangerous and life-threatening confrontations: With thugs, drunkards, addicts and random Watch patrols.

I always worry for him because every time he leaves, it might be the last time we see each other. Tonight is no different.

“Please be careful, my Love,” I whisper.

Out the corner of my eye, I catch Zaenack grinning at me. “I'm always careful,” he murmurs around the stem of his pipe and even winks at me.

Cheeky bastard. I smirk, fingering my cigarette as I flick ash onto the concrete. I wonder who taught him that?

“I'll give you a call before I come home.” Zae's hand dips into another deep pocket and pulls out his phone: A chunky device in a plain leather slip-cover.

“Yes. Please do.” I wait as he dials the number for the Shiv and Tankard, but when the automated 'technical issues' message crackles from the speaker, he sighs and ends the call.

“Damn it.” He frowns at his phone, before shoving it back into his pocket. “Looks like I have to make tracks now and apologise in person-”

“Don't fret over it too much, my Love.” I gesture with my cigarette. “I'll call him as soon as I get back inside.”

Zaenack relaxes visibly and offers a grateful smile. “Thank you, Master. I don't know why you keep pulling me out of-”

This time, I laugh. “Zae, I'm the reason you're always running late.” I shove my cigarette back into my mouth. “Now stop worrying and enjoy your smoke with me. That's an order.”

Zae chuckles and we fall into a comfortable silence, punctuated by the thunder and the rain.

“Seriously, when was the last time we did anything like this together?” I look at him and raise an eyebrow. It's true enough. We don't often just sit together and talk without it ending in a spanking session or shagging. To be honest, I can't even say when our relationship started going downhill. But Verune's right. It's falling apart and I haven't done anything to fix it. Certainly not with the possibility of Isabella being in my life.

“Good point.” Zaenack nods, releasing a lungful of smoke, and pauses to clean and refill his pipe-bowl. “Speaking of which, since we're out here, and if you'd permit me to say so freely-”

He's alluding to his own desire for Isabella. I frown and pinch the bridge of my nose. I should've known as much. Sighing because I'm torn and I truly want all of us to be together, I motion for Zae to continue. As much as it might pain me.

“Thank you, Master.” He ducks his head in gratitude and lights his pipe. “I-I really care for her, Master. No. More than that. I fucking love her, and I haven't felt this way about a woman in a long time.” He pauses to clear his throat.

I'd interrupt and tell him to get to the fucking point, but he did come to me in a time of need. I can hold my tongue and let him speak his mind.

“I know you wanted me to bring her to you, for you without regard for my own needs. But, damn, Bella is so special. She's the kind of woman I could marry and have children with- I mean, we could marry her and father her children,” he laughs nervously, his face turning red as his hand starts to shake.

I feel a sharp, sickening stab in my chest. Marriage. More children! There's something that would've been possible once, but it isn't any more because of how hideous I am. What woman would want to sleep with me?

More importantly, what woman would carry my baby? More painful memories hit me like a slap to the face, making my eyes sting again but I stubbornly push the thoughts away. Now isn't the time for my own selfishness. Not when my Love is opening up to me.

“With-with your permission of course, Master.” Zaenack hesitates, fingering his pipe as he stares thoughtfully at the bowl.

That's not all he wants to say. I can feel it drifting around him like a noxious odour, poisoning the air but I can't probe any deeper. He's closed off his mind to me.

I raise my eyebrows. What is he hiding? What is he afraid of telling me? “Alright Zaenack. Out with it.” I purse my lips and frown, feeling my impatience bubbling to the surface. But like the memories I shove my feelings aside. Losing my temper isn't going to get me anywhere.

Zae sighs and clears his throat again. “I really, really want this to work Master. For all of us. As we dreamed of when you first told me-”

“Zaenack,” I level him with a hard, warning glance. “Get to the point, please.”

“Yes Master.” Zae blushes and hangs his head. “It's a lot to ask, but I'd be grateful if you didn't influence Bella too much in my absence.” He toys with his pipe again before looking at me. “Like I said before, she means a lot to me and I really want her to love-”

“Zaenack.” I hold up my hand, silencing him. He closes his mouth with a soft click and frowns. “If you don't want me sleeping with her yet, just spit it out.” It isn't easy, but I manage to stay calm, reasonable and focused.

Unlike Verune, who believes a slave has no rights, feelings and needs beyond their desire to please, I'm not so tyrannical. I believe in fairness, and from the beginning when I collared Zae I made it clear we could openly discuss our relationship and sexuality. Which meant we could impose upon each other certain restrictions, as needed.

“Yes Master.” He nods. “With your blessing, I'd like that. I know you permitted me to take her tonight and for that I'm grateful. But I want the next time we make love to be special. Something we share only with each other. No secrets. No lies. No complications. I still feel rotten for being unfaithful, and for keeping our relationship a secret from Bella.” His voice lowers to a whisper and his cheeks turn pink. “Maybe... Maybe when I get home we could have dinner and playtime together. Like earlier today...” His mind opens up again and I see naughty images of him paddling Isabella.

My back stiffens. Well, we'll see about that. I grunt and stare into the stormy darkness.

Is what Zae expects of me too much to ask? Probably. I finish my cigarette and flick the butt into the driving rain. But in truth his expectations aren't any different from mine. They're nothing compared to what Verune would have me impose. Like wearing his collar, kissing my shoes and calling me Master in the open. Even around his nieces. Especially if it enforces obedience.

But I'm nothing like her! Bloody backwards woman. I shake my head and sigh.

Ah, maybe it's true. Maybe I'm not ready for one, let along two slaves. Maybe that's not what I really want? Maybe I want an equal? Someone to complete me, like Lilleah did? Maybe I don't even want a man in my life, because so many have hurt me...

I bite my lip, tasting blood as tears well in my eyes again. But I don't want Zaenack to worry about me. He worries enough as it is. Drawing a shaky breath I light another cigarette and puff on it until my nerves are calm once more. But I can't shake the sick sinking feeling in my belly.

“As you wish, my Love,” I murmur at length, wondering if I'll regret my decision. I usually do. “I'll do my best.” But only time will tell.

“Thank you.” Zaenack smiles weakly at me.

We fall into silence, listening to the thunder and rain until Zaenack gets up to leave.

“I'll see you in a few days Master.” He extends his hand to me, helping me to my feet. But before I can back off, he snatches the cigarette from my lips and pulls me close. His sweet lips seek mine. Fuck. Zaenack... I groan into his mouth, losing myself as I kiss him and cling to him with trembling fingers. Because this moment might be our last.

“Please. Be careful, my Love,” I rasp against his lips and hold his cheeks in my hands. “If there's any sign of trouble, any-”

“I'll be careful.” Zaenack smiles and kisses me again, this time probing his tongue into my mouth. Oooh fuck. It doesn't happen often. Almost never, unless I tell him to, but I love it when he takes control. “I promise.” His lips brush mine again, leaving me stunned and a little breathless before he pulls away and steps into the rain.

Cheeky bastard. I run my finger over my mouth as I watch him walk away. He didn't give back my cigarette. No matter. I fish another from my tin but I don't light it right away.

The rain pours and thunder rumbles above me, the wind whipping icy droplets into my hair and face. But still I stand on the porch, my heart feeling heavier than it ever has before as Zaenack moves further and further away from me.

Morpheus, if you're listening to me, please bring my Love home safe. Turning away from the dreary scene, I step back into the house and close the door behind me.

Continued in Chapter 12