Red Page 20

  "Wow.” Elijah stared in awe at the ceiling while I lit the torches along the wall.

  "That was my first impression, too.” I smiled.

  I explained to him that the dungeon had been what attracted me most to the house.

  "I can understand why,” he said, running his hands over the magnificent pillars.

  Just then, Elijah began to notice the many unusual devices around the room.

  "Holy crap,” he said, eyes wide. “Did it come with all this?” He motioned around the room.

  "Yep. Would you like the grand tour?"

  "Can you tell me how it all works?” he teased.

  "Of course."

  "In that case, let ‘er rip.” He smiled.

  "Ok.” I decided to start with the table along the wall, which was an antique itself. “This,” I indicated the first device which resembled a double headed fork attached to a leather collar, “was known as The Heretic's Fork. The sharp points on each end are placed deep into the flesh under the chin and into the sternum. It completely prevented all movement of the head, allowing the victim to only whisper a confession."

  "And this,” I moved on to an object which resembled a pair of brass knuckles with long curving claws, “is The Cat's Paw, also known as the Spanish Tickler. It was used to rip the victim's flesh from their bones."

  To my amazement, Elijah seemed to be enjoying the tour.

  "What about this one?” He picked up an elongated pear shaped object with a golden handle.

  "That's The Pear. Are you sure you want to know what this one was used for?” I teased.

  "Sure, how much worse could it get?"

  I laughed as I replied, “The Pear was inserted orally, anally, or vaginally, and then,” I pressed the golden handle and watched Elijah jump as it opened, “it was expanded."

  He replaced the object to the table, careful to touch only the handle.

  "Now, this one I recognize. It's a chain whip, right?"

  "Right, except with this one, the chains are pure silver."

  "And that's a Rack.” He pointed to the object that resembled a long table with a crank along the opposite wall.

  "Impressive.” I smiled. “But can you tell me what that is?” I pointed to an apparatus in the far corner that could only be described as bizarre. It looked like a stool, except there was a large silver triangle in place of the seat. Above this was a belt suspended in mid air by three chains, one attached to the ceiling, and one to each wall in the corner.

  "Tell me it wasn't used to treat hemorrhoids,” he pleaded.

  "Close, but no cigar. It was known as The Judas Cradle. The victim was hoisted up with the belt and chains and lowered onto the point of the pyramid in such a way that their weight would rest on the point positioned in the anus, the vagina, under the scrotum, or underneath the last two or three vertebrae."

  "Goddamn,” he exclaimed.

  "My thoughts exactly. But have you seen the one over there?” I pointed to the contraption in the other corner, down from the Rack.

  "It's familiar, but I can't think of its name,” he answered as he walked over to get a closer look. It was a tall sarcophagus looking device that sat upright with many large spikes inside the back, and along its two doors.

  "That's The Iron Maiden. It was used more for execution than torture, since practically no one ever survived its use. The victim was placed inside and the doors were shut, impaling them on all these lovely spikes,” I added the last in response to the horrified expression on his face.

  "Lovely?"

  "I'm just teasing.” I snickered. “You look pale. Do you want to see the rest?"

  "How many more are there?” He looked around the big room nervously.

  "Just one."

  I walked over to a small highly polished wooden platform. Along the back of this was an upright plank with a narrow seat attached. Above the seat, slightly more than shoulder height on most people was a leather strap. This strap was attached to a crank on the back of the board.

  As I sat down on the device I explained its use. “This is my favorite piece of equipment,” I shared. “It's called the Garrote. With the turn of this crank, the strap would tighten, asphyxiating the victim."

  "And why was this your favorite?"

  A wicked smile spread across my lips as I answered, “You don't want to know."

  "Ah, but it's past our first date. Does the rule about restraints still apply?"

  "I'm afraid so.” I walked to the large oak door at the back of the room. “Would you like to see the rest?"

  "There's more?"

  "Oh yeah, this is the best part.” I placed the same silver key into a door and, with a good bit of effort, slid it open.

  With its thick dark wood and reinforced silver bolts, it looked like someone had ordered the door from ‘Dungeons ‘R’ Us'.

  "Won't you come in?” I offered with a melodramatic flourish of my wrist.

  "I'm scared.” He laughed, but he walked through the door.

  To say that the dungeon was large would have been an understatement. It covered at least two thousand square feet, making it slightly larger than Alfred's lab. The first room beyond the door had shelves along the wall, but was otherwise bare, except for the continuation of the beautifully arched ceiling with its columns, and torches.

  Elijah followed while I lit the torches in this room, also.

  "Was this a library?” he asked.

  "I'm really not sure, but I think so. That would explain the shelves anyway."

  "What is this exactly? It looks like a whole apartment built under here."

  "It is,” I said, leading him into the next more spacious area that must have been a bedroom.

  "But why would anyone...?” He seemed at a lost for words.

  "I have no idea, but wait till you see the bathroom.” I smirked.

  One last door, which was a smaller version of the heavy oak, separated us from the bathroom, and I opened it with the same silver key.

  "Holy shit,” Elijah laughed as we stepped inside.

  "This is the only room with anything even remotely resembling modern conveniences,” I said, indicating the black marble toilet in the corner.

  "Wow,” he said for the second time.

  "I love this.” I walked over to the large round tub. It was set deep into the floor with what was the most beautiful collection of smooth colored rocks that I had ever seen, many of which I recognized from Richard's rock chart. There were all varieties of quartz, amethyst, citrine, rose, tourmaline, and tiger's eye. The range of color was amazing. It was also the only color in the room.

  The entire bathroom was carved from a darker, almost black, smoky looking rock, but it was beautiful. Past the tub, which sat in the middle of the room, was what could be described best as an open shower. There was a drain in the floor and a shower head in the wall. That was pretty much it.

  "I guess you don't need a shower curtain when everything around you is rock,” Elijah speculated as he examined the shower head.

  "I guess not, but how would you explain these?"

  Elijah had yet to notice the silver shackles I had indicated with my last words.

  "Oh my, God.” He laughed.

  I wasn't sure how to respond other than to laugh with him. Directly beside the shower, firmly affixed to the wall were two long silver shackles that, judging by their height, had been meant to restrain the wrists.

  "S & M anyone?” I offered with a laugh.

  "Hey, it's better than that Pear thing,” he pointed out.

  "That's true, but they might chain you up in here and then use The Pear,” I suggested nastily.

  Elijah shuddered. “Let's get out of here."

  Once we were safely back upstairs, he said, “It's getting late, I guess I should be going."

  Again, I wasn't sure what to say. I had enjoyed the evening, but Elijah had to go. The fact that I was lonely without Alfred in the house gave me no right to want him to stay.

  So, I smiled and said, �
�I'm glad you came, I had fun."

  As we walked to the front door, he asked, “What are you doing next weekend?"

  "I'm seeing you."

  "Really? Is that a prediction of the future?"

  "No, I just figured you had something in mind or you wouldn't have asked."

  The smile he gave me made his eyes sparkle and I almost giggled. You know the giggle I'm talking about. That silly, girlish giggle we all have in high school. It's the one that comes out involuntarily when the guy you think is gorgeous smiles at you. I hated it when a man could make me unleash that terrible giggle, but I managed to fight it this time.

  "When's the last time you played a board game?” he asked.

  Well, I wasn't expecting that.

  "Why, are you board with me?” I responded.

  "Wow, that was a really bad joke.” He snickered.

  "Yeah, it was. But, to answer your question, it's been a long time since I played any type of game."

  "Why don't we get together next Friday night? You can invite Kat, too, if you're afraid to be alone with me."

  "Afraid? Of what?” I teased.

  "You know, not being able to resist me and all.” He laughed.

  I laughed as I replied, “Actually, I think Kat would enjoy it, but don't take my inviting her the wrong way."

  "How's that?"

  "I can prevent myself from molesting you if I choose to."

  "Unfortunately."

  After hugging Elijah goodnight, I watched as he drove away. A storm was brewing and I could smell rain in the air. Lightening flashed in the distance as the wind began to pick up, blowing stray leaves past me into the house. Somehow the prospect of going to bed alone didn't appeal to me at the moment. So, I decided to clean the kitchen instead. After all the dishes were put away, and the remaining wine placed in the fridge, I resigned myself to going to bed.

  Normally, I love to sleep and getting me to go to bed has never been a problem. I had not grown accustomed to sleeping with Alfred, but I had gotten used to the idea of having him in the house. I liked knowing that he was around, even if I didn't see him. I felt safe just knowing he was there.

  I hadn't expected to miss him so much. The past week hadn't been too bad, because I'd had Mathias to keep me company. But with the journal not speaking to me at the time, I had no one else to talk to. It wasn't that I had so much to say or that Alfred and I even talked that much before. I just missed having a companion. We could have breakfast together and never speak without the silence being awkward. Not because we were angry, but we could spend time together, even when we didn't have anything to say.

  I had just reached the foot of the stairs when someone rang my doorbell. I froze in mid step with my hand on the banister. No one that I knew rang the doorbell, which meant that whatever was at the door might not be completely human. Why else would they avoid the door knocker? Stepping closer, I strained my ears to hear above the rumble of the thunder, listening for any clue of what was on the other side of the door.

  "I know you're there. Open the door.” It was Marco's voice, but it lacked his usual smooth appeal. Something was bothering him.

  I opened the door. The rain hadn't started yet, but the promise of moisture hung like a wet kiss on the wind. It seemed appropriate for him to be standing there on my front porch in his faded jeans and tight black t-shirt, his dark hair tousled by the fierce wind.

  "Hello, Red.” His voice no longer lacked appeal of any kind, and neither did the rest of him.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Don't believe in foreplay, do you?"

  I crossed my arms in frustration as he said, “Fine, but can I at least come in?"

  "I don't think that's a good idea, Marco."

  "You still don't trust me.” He sighed.

  "If it makes you feel any better, I don't trust myself either."

  "Not really, but it does wonders for my ego.” His smile was wicked. “Are you just going to leave me out here in this weather?” He gestured at the leaves blowing past him.

  "Why don't you have a seat and tell me what you're doing on my front porch.” I indicated the two white wicker chairs at the corner of the porch that were separated by a small matching table.

  The ferns hanging between the columns were taking a real beating so I decided to take them down while motioning Marco in the direction of the chairs.

  "Careful, Red. You're going to hurt my feelings."

  "It's not your feelings that give me cause for concern,” I said, moving the ferns close to the door so they wouldn't blow away.

  His laugh was a sensual, masculine sound that caused me to shiver in response.

  "And what do I have that concerns you?” he asked.

  Making my way back to where he sat, I replied, “Let's not go there."

  "So, what did you think of the journal? Fascinating read, wasn't it?"

  "Yes, but ... I have to ask, what did it say to you?"

  "Well, first it told me in no uncertain terms that the journal was to come to you."

  "I take that to mean you don't expect me to return it?"

  "No.” He smiled. “Borrow was the wrong choice of words. He meant for it to be yours."

  "What else did he say?” I prompted.

  Marco grew more serious as he responded. “He said that what he would eventually share with you would never be seen by another living soul, no matter how many times they read his journal. So, I read his life's story, his day to day activities, without hint or detail of how he accomplished ... anything. But, I got to know him and you through what he said. Mathias was a good person. He was kind, but he didn't want everyone to know it.” He paused, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

  "The more I get to know you, the more I realize how alike you and Mathias are. And thanks to his journal, I know him very well. I would say that he has unknowingly given me an insight into you, but I don't believe that man did anything unknowingly."

  "I agree.” I turned in my chair so I could face him. “Are you saying that's how you seem to know me so well, from reading Mathias’ journal?"

  "Yes. I don't think you appreciate how similar you are."

  "And I think the only thing you appreciate is how powerful he was."

  "What are you suggesting, Red?"

  "I'm suggesting that the only reason you offered me the position of kulin is because you want to use the power that has been given to me to dominate the wolves."

  He laughed, but it was a bitter and wicked sound.

  "Is that what you think of me?” His voice became a growl as he continued, “I already dominate the wolves. I do not need the power of The Seducer to control my people."

  "Then why?"

  Marco rose from his chair and began to pace. The storm blowing around us seemed to match his mood as he stalked up and down the porch like a tiger in a cage.

  "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I just like you?"

  "Not really. I don't believe you like anyone enough to share your power."

  "And I believe that you are overconfident in yours.” His voice rumbled like the coming thunder as his eyes faded to amber.

  "Don't threaten me, Marco.” My voice was a deadly whisper that carried on the wind.

  He snarled, baring his teeth slightly as a wolfish growl escaped his human throat. Somehow, I was not frightened by his threat. If anything I was irritated by it because I knew that Marco had no intention of hurting me. Everything about him promised violence, his stance, the way his muscles tensed in response to my voice, and his wild eyes. I should have been afraid of the sheer size of him compared to me, but I wasn't. Something in the way he had touched me during our last encounter let me know he wouldn't harm me. I couldn't explain it. I just knew that it was not the norm for the alpha male to nuzzle against someone's thigh.

  Slowly, I rose from my chair, moving toward him, intent on making my moves as graceful as a cat as I felt that door in my mind open. That sensual switch had been flipped, and I intended to
use it.

  "You may huff and puff, Marco, but this storm is more likely to blow me down.” I placed my hand on his chest and he growled at me again.

  His skin was not feverish beneath his thin shirt like before. The full moon had passed earlier in the week, but he was still warm and his muscles were firm beneath my touch.

  "Careful, Red, you go too far."

  The wind blew over us, sending Marco's scent across me like a wave.

  "I don't think so.” I sighed.

  His eyes slowly faded back into a chocolate brown as he responded disappointedly, “I never should have submitted to you, now I can't even manage a decent threat."

  "Submitted to me?"

  "Don't pretend not to know the significance of my actions.” His tone was no longer threatening, but his tense posture hadn't changed.

  "I really don't,” I answered, letting the power fade from my voice. No need to pull out the big guns if no one was opening fire.

  "How can you hunt something for so many years and not understand it?"

  "I'm not a member of the pack, remember? I understand as best I can not being allowed on the inside."

  Marco sighed as he reached for me. After the way he had just threatened me, I shouldn't have let him touch me, but I did. He placed his hands gently above my elbows, massaging the muscles of my biceps. I watched as the tension drained out of him, like pouring water from a glass.

  "When I laid my head in your lap ... that was not a gesture an alpha normally makes.” He didn't make eye contact when he admitted this, which was a gesture that I knew alphas didn't normally make. You could always tell if a werewolf was dominant, based on whether or not they would meet your eyes.

  "I figured as much,” I said.

  He looked in my eyes as he continued, “I submitted myself to you and by the way you touched me, you accepted my submission."