The Jackal's Kiss

Okay, so this one's a little shorter, but hopefully good. What do you think?

Chapter Three: His Majesty’s Dog

My head was pounding. That was the first thing I was aware of. The second thing was a toss up between the cold hard surface I was laying on, and the sickening stench that laced the air. I couldn’t tell if it was the cause of my rolling stomach, or only making it worse.

I blinked experimentally and tried to swallow around my dry tongue. It felt old and withered in my mouth. Suddenly, I would have given anything for a sip of water. My stomach quivered ominously and I had only a second’s warning before I twitched upwards and gagged. It felt as if my body was trying to get rid of anything I had ever eaten, but only succeeded in producing a thin string of bile.

When all the retching was done I collapsed back, exhausted and aching everywhere from lying on cold stone. I panted and shivered, taking in the surroundings in a detached sort of way. Some kind of alarm was going off in my head, but it was ignored. This place was strange to me. It was a huge room…massive really. The opposite wall was so far away that I had to squint to make out the design on gigantic double doors. An elephant could have passed through them. I blinked and squinted some more—were those wolves eating men? Another wave of nausea rolled over me and I looked away.

The flickering light had made them seem alive.

I made a mental note that medieval looking torches lighted the room. Where was I? What kind of place didn’t use electricity? Even my cheap apartment complex had that. I shivered and sat up, having to grasp at the great stone slab beside me for support. After the world stopped spinning, I noticed that it wasn’t a slab, it was…what? A throne? The velvet cushions inside it looked heavenly, but I didn’t have the strength to crawl up to them.

Another wave of dizziness and nausea passed over me as I sat there panting and shivering. Why did I feel so weak? Why did my head feel like it was about to spin off into the ceiling? I closed my eyes trying to remember, but my thoughts were skittish things, like fish in a stream. I was too tired to try and catch them…and some of those fish had teeth…

Teeth.

The word resounded in my head, like a vicious whisper echoing on the wind. My throat gave a brutal throb and a gingerly touched the pulsing ache. Sore flesh protested beneath my fingers, covered in dry, crusted flakes. I pulled my fingers forward, rubbing the dark matter between my fingers. When I touched my neck again, it stung freshly and hot wet blood ran over my fingertips. It hurt.

“Oh,” I breathed, staring at the dark stain as a sense of recognition overwhelmed me.

I touched my arm over the thin, spidery scar on my forearm.

I remembered sitting in a chair, cold hard wood beneath my bare thighs.

“Do you know what pain is?” he asked. I knew it was a he, but my sight was blurry, as if I was seeing everything through a veil.

“No,” I answered, simply.

I saw his mouth flash, showing me crooked, and yellowed teeth.

“It’s time to learn, pet,” he said, lifting something else that flashed in the light. I remembered thinking that it shown beautifully, so much better than his rotting grin—before it sliced into my skin.

I was too shocked to scream, to make a sound. With a will of their own, my fingers touched the welling blood, and I flinched as the cut gave another throb.

“Oh,” I whispered, rubbing the hot substance between my fingers. “It…hurts.”

He grinned.

“Does it, pet? Are you sure? Let’s be certain shall we?”

“No!” I hissed in the present, holding my arms tightly around myself. Then my eyes flew wide. The room reverberated with my half-scream. Anyone or anything could hear. I shivered in fear as a waited, sensing too much space around me. I tried to look everywhere at once, as the shadows loomed and flickered, like they were reaching for me.

I’d broken the rule and I waited with bated breath.

For moments, for hours I remained in silence, not daring to even blink. My legs were numb as I clutched them from the cold. The iron manacle around my ankle sent chills to my bones and seemed to grow heavier with every beat of my heart.

I was alone, but for the shadows. It was silent except for the blood rushing through my ears. I could feel nothing but the icy air and goose pimples on my bare skin.

I wanted to scream, but I knew they would come for me; whatever it was that brought me here. But still I longed for it, the end to all of the horrible waiting and the cold pit of dread in my stomach. But I feared how it would end. Images of the vagrant’s carcass, torn to shreds, devoured…gnawed on.

The thought of being eaten alive stilled my throat.

Time seemed meaningless as I slowly slumped from my crouch. I lay curled in on myself at the side of the thrown. One of the torches flickered and sputtered. It went out. My breath caught as the gloom deepened and the shadows grew hungrier. I saw things in them that I could never describe. I heard things in them, slithering, whispering, and giggling. I felt them brush my skin and I would flinch as the silent tears rand down my face.

“It’s not real,” I mouthed. It was just another nightmare. I would wake up and it would be gone. I wouldn’t remember. It would be over. I ached for it to be over.

“Please,” I finally whispered to the dark.

I shouldn’t have been surprised when I got an answer.

“Please, what?”

I blinked and half smiled. Who knew shadows spoke with such a smart accent? Would I die grinning over something so ridiculous?

“Really, darling, you should be more specific, or you’ll be up to your pretty ass in horny toads that should be handsome princes.”

A huff escaped, fighting to be a chuckle before I smothered it.

“That’s free advice, by the way. And when someone such as me gives you free advice you should listen. I won’t even bother to tell you my usual fee.” The shadows said, somewhere above me. Theatrically it dropped its tone and whispered, “It’s deadly.”

I shivered and finally rolled my eyes up. Instead of shadows there was a boy, perching precariously on the arm of the throne. I blinked at the gold curls and glittering blue eyes. The smirk he shot me was nothing short of wicked; it looked odd on such a face…what was the word to describe it?

Innocent?

No. He looked like a pervert.

Angelic? Maybe. A dirty smutty angel if there ever was one.

As if he heard my thoughts, he winked.

I looked him up and down. His clothes looked soft, velvet maybe. Black and deep ocher with gold trim. Funny little pointed shoes. There was a hat clutched in his hand.

“Are you a clown? Is that why you’re telling jokes?” I croaked tiredly. From the corners of my eyes I could still see those squirming shapes in the dark, but they were farther away. They stayed away from him. I didn’t care the reason why, I could finally breathe.

His odd grin spread wider.

“What a funny girl, you are. Of all the questions you could have asked, you chose that. What a waste. You only get so many freebies you know.”

I just watched him.

It was fascinating the way his hair reflected the light. The way his eyes glittered. The lilt of his voice. Even while the raspy tones seemed odd coming from his rosebud mouth, it was comforting. I didn’t know why. Should I have asked him? Maybe…but I wouldn’t want to waste a question. That seemed important. He said it was…I was so tired.

“For your information, you nosy little brat, I was at a party and I was a “jestor” not a clown—and nobody found it funny,” his chuckle sent shivers down my abused nerves. “Not after the entertainment I had planned. I bet His Majesty will think twice before insisting I come to his birthday next year.”

“Why are you here?”—with me.

“Really? Another one so soon? Tsk-tsk. Save a few for later why don’t you?”

My eyes were so heavy I couldn’t keep them open anymore. My whole body was relaxed. The rough stone felt like a dream, even though my body was bruised. Was he doing this to me?

“Well, everyone is curious about the new pet, especially after the last one broke so easily. And I’m afraid when I get curious, I just can’t help myself…and heaven help anyone who gets in my way,” he seemed to find the last bit particularly funny and snickered at his own inside joke. “So, funny girl, who are you?”

“Who am I?” I repeated dully.

I could feel his grin even at the cusp of dreams.
“You’re His Majesty’s Dog.”