De Sade stared out his window and brooded. Sasha, that mouthy wench, had had the nerve to accuse him of pouting. Ridiculous, of course. A man of his breeding never pouted.

Brooding though, that was an appropriate response to his current situation because he was here, in his bed-chamber, and missing all the fun, rather than one floor up in the Master chamber. Even now he imagined he could almost hear the sting of the lash and the cries of pain and pleasure from the new arrival. Such a fine-looking young man! A rare treat indeed and one he had been allowed to have no part of. It had been this way for five days now.

“How is it my fault that the blasted hunter is taking so long? Why am I being punished for his incompetence?” De Sade slapped the cat-o-nine-tails hard across his own naked thigh in frustration but it just wasn’t the same. Graveek had even removed him from training duty for the new captives, knowing how much he enjoyed breaking them in properly.

You bitch. The day will come when it is I who is the Master. On that day, I will teach you entirely new lessons on the sweet release of agony. You will beg for it as the smoke leaks from your flesh. You will-

Movement down in the courtyard caught his attention and interrupted his favorite fantasy. One of the guards was hurrying into the keep. Out at the front gate, De Sade could just see another guard standing at the parapet and talking to someone beyond the metal portcullis. Someone who was standing in the road awaiting entry.

“Could it finally be him?” he asked himself, then clapped his hands together with a child’s glee. “It must be! Oh, happy day!” Pulling his trousers back up, de Sade rushed out the door and down the spiraling staircase just as the guard was coming up.

“Yes?” The Marquis sniffed at the man. “Report, you fool.”

“The Baroness…” the guard mumbled.

De Sade knew Graveek left standing orders to be notified directly whenever anyone approached the castle, whether by road or by air. The guard knew it as well but as a member of Graveek’s harem, De Sade had almost as much authority as his Mistress. The guard knew that as well.

It was fun to stand in his way and watch the man sweat. Pain could be inflicted in any number of creative ways. Physical torture was best, of course, but mental torture was also amusing.

“Well?” De Sade snapped at him, eyes wide with mock outrage. “Are you a dog waiting for a scratch behind the ear? Speak, man!”

There was violence behind the guard’s hooded eyes at being spoken to in such a demeaning manner. De Sade could feel its warm glow against his skin. So exciting! Would the man give in to his anger, knowing the punishment would be severe?

But no, of course not. De Sade watched as the guard hung his head in defeat, and smiled at the sweet taste of domination.

“There is a visitor at the gate requesting entry.”

“Did he give a name?” De Sade blurted in excitement. “Is it Karl Denke? Does he have a Hell Hound with him?”

“Yes, and yes, m’lord,” the guard replied.

“Move out of my way, you oaf!”

Practically skipping, both delighted by his arrival and enraged by the delay, de Sade flew down the stairs. He rushed across the rust-colored dirt of the inner courtyard, heedless of the dust settling onto his polished shoes and fine clothes, and flinging scathing insults at the guards for not opening the gate quick enough. Across the outer courtyard, he sped and up to the metal latticework of the portcullis, breathing heavily at the unaccustomed burst of exercise.

Through the bands of metal, he saw a large man of bronze and black. Bronze skin stood out against black, shoulder-length hair, and black jacket and trousers. His boots though were of an odd design, heavily scuffed, and a dull brown, which de Sade thought to be an oafish choice. One simply did not wear brown boots with black clothing, It simply wasn’t done! Even his complexion was an unfortunate darker shade than one would expect of a Prussian.

Poor mongrel no doubt has some unfortunate Spaniard in his family tree, he decided.

Despite these unfortunate characteristics, the man certainly looked the part. Dark green eyes stared back at him. A pair of pistols hung from lean hips along with a dagger. Slung across his broad back was a long, powerful-looking rifle. In his left hand was a rope tied around the thick neck of a savage, snarling Hell Hound. In his right was a leash around the neck and bound hands of…

De Sade felt a thrill of excitement. It was her! The Succubus he had seen in Gomorrah.

Happy day!

“Denke, welcome!” De Sade smiled and offered an elaborate bow from the waist. “I trust your hunt was successful?”

The man yanked on the leash around the demon girl’s neck, nearly toppling her backward. “Just this one left,” he growled. “Open the damned gate.”

“Of course!” De Sade scowled at the guard on gate duty. “Are you deaf, you fool? Open the gate for our guest!”

The guard leaned into the hand crank and, turn by turn, slowly raised the heavy portcullis. When it was head high, Denke urged Succubus and Hell Hound to pass beneath the metal teeth of the gate hanging over their heads.

De Sade fell back with a look of disgust as the Hound snarled at him. “You will, of course, need to cage your beast.”

“Where?” Denke replied as he yanked on the leash to drag the Hound back.

“A man of few words!” De Sade gave a nervous laugh. “I admire that.” He fluttered his fingers over at a long, low building on the right. “Any of those cages will do.” 

Denke nodded once and proceeded to drag the slavering hound over to the pens. De Sade walked with him at a safe distance. “Shall I hold your prize for you while you get the beast settled?” he leered at the lavender skinned Succubus, already reaching for her.

“No,” the hunter said with a hard glare. “I hunger. This one’s flesh is mine.”

“Of course.” De Sade smiled. “Perhaps you would allow me to tenderize her properly for you-”

“No!” The hunter snapped, then seemed to consider his words. “Perhaps,” he amended reluctantly and handed the leash over to him.

“How lovely!” De Sade beamed and leaned in behind the bound Succubus. “I sensed your essence back in Gomorrah,” he whispered against her neck. “So vibrant! I ache to taste your fear.”

Denke cursed and kicked at the snarling Hell Hound until it was safely secured in one of the reinforced pens. To de Sade’s profound disappointment, he returned and reclaimed the demon’s leash.

“Until later,” he whispered to the lovely Succubus just before Denke took her back.

“This way,” De Sade gestured. “The Baroness will be eager to hear all about your successful hunt.”

*****

“Be calm.”

“I am calm,” Logan mentally growled back at Coyote.

Logan glanced over at De Sade. He was a small man, with a slight build, narrow shoulders, and a thick head of dark hair. His clothes, and the harem mark on his cheek, marked him as a damned soul of an entirely new level of privilege. It was the first time Logan had ever, on Earth or in Hell, encountered the casual decadence of the truly wealthy.

Dressed in a bronze vest and maroon waistcoat, both heavily embroidered with gold filigree, de Sade looked like the French noble he had been in life. Lace frills extended over his wrists and around a thin neck. Freshly laundered black trousers fell precisely over the tops of polished, black leather shoes.

Such extravagance and de Sade was only a favored servant! Logan could not help but think about the crude conditions he and Beauty lived in, scrambling daily to survive. He felt like a barbarian seeing the modern world for the first time.

Logan reminded himself that the wealth de Sade was wearing so casually, and if he was being honest with himself was so jealous of, was being earned by selling souls into slavery. The “gentleman” walking beside him, and everything about this place was evil in its purest form. Logan could see it in the way the man’s eyes kept wandering over Beauty’s curves with a gleam of sadistic anticipation.

De Sade noticed his attention and smiled back.

“If half of what I’ve heard about this guy is true, he would probably enjoy a good beating. This sick fuck’s name is where the word 'sadism, comes from,” Logan thought back.

“He is a vile creature,” Coyote agreed. “But remember that you are as well. That you are Karl Denke, serial killer, cannibal, and hunter of damned souls. To sell a lie you have to become the lie until it feels like truth.”

The walk to the front door of the keep provided ample opportunity to assess the castle defenses from the inside. Logan was relieved to see that Seralla may have been truthful about the number of guards. There were only two at every gate and one on either side of the wall on patrol, plus a few standing watches on the roofs. If they worked twelve hours shifts, then the approximate number of guards should be no more than thirty or so.

For such a large fortification, he suspected it could have easily have housed ten times that number. Such light defenses were strong evidence that Baroness Graveek felt secure enough not to pay the enormous cost of maintaining a standing army. It was that overconfidence that Logan was counting on.

“Remember that we cannot predict her powers and I dare not speak to you in her presence,” Coyote reminded him.

De Sade led him past both gatehouses and up the stairs to the front door on the second floor of the keep, a last line of defense if all else failed. Logan braced himself against whatever he might witness inside. After almost three months in Hell, this would be his first time walking into an actual building. Having seen Hell’s cruelty and de Sade’s finery, it could be anything from horror to opulence.

This was it. Once inside, there would be no chance of escape if the plan went wrong. He and Beauty would be trapped.

A glance showed the same uncertainty on Beauty’s face. As expected, she had not been fond of this idea to infiltrate as Karl Denke and his prisoner. Logan could hardly blame her. If anything went wrong, they would both suffer in ways he could not even begin to imagine.

De Sade open the doored and waved them in with a smile and a bow.

Beyond was a long, rectangular chamber. A vaulted ceiling, supported by a latticework of thick wooden beams, rose twenty feet above their heads. Black metal chandeliers hung from chains in a long line casting a shimmering, golden light from a hundred candles. High windows of real glass allowed in the ruddy light of day. The floor was a checkerboard pattern of polished, black, and scarlet stone squares. Lining the stone walls was a series of statuettes on pedestals of nude men and women carved in exquisite detail. One was of a person in exaggerated pleasure. The next was a posture of agony. Pain and pleasure alternated down both sides of the great hall.

A human guard stood at attention to the left and right of a raised platform at the far end of the hall. Both were muscular, handsome men, bare-chested, and marked on the left cheek as Harem. Each wore a sword and pistol at their side and looked like they knew how to use them.

On the platform was a large, gilded chair that was almost a throne. Standing behind the chair and to the left was a lovely, brunette human woman. On the right was a smoke-colored, four-eyed male demon. Both were dressed in rich finery like de Sade.

None of them compared to the astonishing creature sitting in the chair.

Layers of midnight blue skirt fell away from a long split in the fabric to reveal long, shapely, plum-colored legs sheathed in thigh high nylons and knee-high stiletto boots. A black leather belt chased in silver cinched a tiny waist, as did a black leather corset across her torso. Bare, amethyst colored cleavage threatened to spill out over the top of the corset. A blouse of the same dark blue barely covered her shoulders, breasts, and upper arms. Black leather, fingerless gloves were like a second skin over delicate hands and long, black claws.

Plump, black lips, and arched black eyebrows framed a pert nose and glittering, silver eyes. Hair like midnight silk curled on top of her head and hung around her face in soft curls around rams horns curled on either side of her head. Those eyes watched him approach with a look of hunger as sharp as a knife.

Logan stopped when de Sade did and bowed mirrored the man’s formal bow.

“Karl Denke,” de Sade intoned. “You have the honor of being in the presence of Baroness Graveek, Lady of the Wastelands, and master procurer of the finest souls in all the land.”

“Baroness,” Logan, unsure how best to respond, bowed again.  

He repressed a shiver as she replied in a sultry voice that glided over his skin. “Well met, Karl Denke.” Her eyes shifted to Beauty, hands bound behind her back, and leashed at his side. “And what have we here? A demon held captive by a human… how unusual. Did you bring me a gift?”

“My dinner,” Logan responded in his best Denke impression.

The Baroness cocked one delicate eyebrow. “Yes, I have heard about your particular… appetites. How interesting. I assume then that your hunt was successful?”

Logan thought about Coyote’s advice when they had discussed the plan back in the cavern. The best lie is built on truth. Logan jerked on the leash, nearly pulling Beauty off of her feet. “This one and I are all that remain.”

The eyes of the Baroness narrowed ah she looked at him. “That upsets you. Why is that?”

Her question sent a bolt of alarm down Logan’s spine. He had been thinking about Karen as he said it. Had he revealed more than intended in his voice or body language? He reminded himself that this was an Elder demon, possibly ancient, and no one to underestimate.

“It was a hard fight,” he replied truthfully. “Some of my own fell.”

“Ah.” Her reply glided over his flesh, revealing nothing of the devious thoughts swirling behind those silver eyes. It felt like being under a microscope as if Graveek could see deeper than skin to read his thoughts and emotions. Logan resisted the urge to fidget with nervous energy. “Well then, I look forward to sharing in a well-earned celebration dinner. My cook and kitchen shall be at your disposal.”

Logan nodded. They had prepared for this possibility. “Of course, Baroness, but it will require a few days of preparation and conditioning. Fear adds flavor and cures the meat.”

“Very interesting.” Her eyes slid over to de Sade. “Careful, pet. This one just might have some new tricks to teach you.”

De Sade kept his face carefully neutral but his eyes flashed with anger. “As you say, Baroness.”

The demon smiled in evil satisfaction, then paused as she sniffed at the air. Her eyes settled back on Logan like a weight. “Come closer, Karl Denke.”

Nervously, Logan stepped toward the raised platform. The two guards closed in to form a human shield between him and the Baroness. She leaned forward and sniffed again. A slow smile of delight and curiosity shaped her lips.

“You have a remarkable vitality… Karl Denke.” There was a glimmer in her eyes that made the hairs on the back of Logan’s neck stand up. “How interesting that your Master has allowed you to build up and retain such a powerful Essence. Does he not feed on you?”

“He does.” It was the only response Logan could think of to give and hoped it was the right call to make.

“Such restraint to leave you with so much.” Graveek licked her lips. “I don’t know that I would be able to resist such delicious… temptation.”

He had no idea how to respond to that and simply bowed in acknowledgment. A long moment of silence settled over the room as her gaze slowly moved up and down his body. Finally, she seemed to rouse out of whatever deep thoughts were coiling in her mind and leaned back into her chair with a sultry smile.

He watched in stunned silence as her thighs and skirts spread open to reveal the naked folds of her sex. A wicked grin spread across her lips, like oil on water.

“Come greet me properly, Karl Denke.”

What the fuck is this? he thought as a cold thread of panic began to worm through his guts.

Was this some ritual or demonic etiquette he was supposed to know? One wrong move and the whole plan would blow up in his face, condemning him, Beauty, and Coyote, to a fate worse than death. Yet, doing nothing was just as bad. The seconds ticked by. Every eye in the room was on Logan, waiting and watching.

What do I do now? What the fuck do I do? Think, Logan!

Half baked ideas flashed through his mind. Did she want him to fuck her right here and now? No, probably not. All of this had a sense of formality to it, a sense of a lesser person greeting royalty.

In the real world, people bowed to or perhaps kissed the ring of royalty, but this was the Second Circle of Hell. Lust permeated every aspect of this place and all who lived there. Twisting even the most basic behavior into something sexual.

As his right foot touched the platform on which she held court, Logan’s frantic thoughts settled on to a similar notion. She wants me to kiss the ring. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Logan silently prayed that he was right and knelt at her feet.

Baroness Graveek’s smile widened, as did her legs. “Begin.”

Logan let out a quiet, shuddering breath of relief and leaned forward on his hands to reach her. The taste of her juices filled his mouth, hot and smoky, as he planted his lips against her soft skin and parted her lips with his tongue. 

It felt so strange and awkward! Under normal circumstances, Logan was a big fan of going down on a woman, especially one as intensely beautiful as Graveek was, but, being neither submissive nor an exhibitionist by nature, this was anything but normal for him. He felt nothing. It was simply a task to be accomplished.

Fine, he thought with a mental grin. You want the Karl Denke carpet muncher special? You got it, lady.

If he had to do it, then fine, but nobody said he had to do it well. For the first time in his life, Logan began deliberately giving the single worst oral sex he had ever attempted. He slobbered. He motorboated into her delicate flesh. He even did the ABC’s with his tongue like a clueless teenager.

“Pathetic,” Graveek growled and pushed his head away.

 Logan fell back beside de Sade and offered a low bow to hide the malicious glee in his eyes. “Apologies, Baroness. I am unworthy.”

“Yes, you certainly are, worm. De Sade, see that our guest’s weapons are secured and he is settled comfortably, after a cell has been made available for his… prize, of course.” Her silver eyes settled once again on Beauty.

“De Sade, see that our guest’s weapons are secured and he is settled comfortably. After a cell has been made available for his… prize, of course.” Her silver eyes settled once again on Beauty. There was a gleeful sense of malice in her expression. “It’s no less than this one deserves for allowing herself to be bested by a mere human. Let her reap the rewards of her weakness.”

Logan swallowed hard. “I would prefer to keep my prize where I can watch her.”

The baroness laughed. It was a soft, melodious sound that somehow still managed to feel like rolling in broken glass. “Tell him my rule, my pet.”

De Sade nodded. “Animals will be treated as such until they have learned to obey.”

Graveek bared her teeth in a corpse-like smile. “Put her in a cell of submission.”

After the interview with the Baroness, De Sade led him and his “prisoner” to the other tower, past the second floor that was a guard's barracks. Logan counted more than twenty beds and less than a dozen guards sleeping or dicing as they passed the open door. Up a winding stone stair, they climbed to a stout, wooden door on the third floor flanked by two guards. Even having some idea what to expect, Logan had to force himself not to react as de Sade led him and Beauty inside.

Cages made from metal bars lined three of the four walls. Most of them were barely a six-foot square. More than half of those were occupied by men and women sitting on the floor and staring out at him with identical expressions of hopelessness and pain. The remaining cells were half that size, no larger than a large dog kennel. Anything human-sized would not be able to stand or lie down, only huddle in misery.

To his horror, Logan suddenly understood what a “cell of submission” was as de Sade approach one of the smaller cages.

Putting Beauty in that cage was the hardest thing Logan had ever tried to do. His muscles locked. His hands refused to close and lock the door. Wild thoughts ran through his mind.

I could snap de Sade’s scrawny neck right now. Ten guards downstairs but most are sleeping. We could maybe bluff our way out or kill enough of them to get the advantage… make a run for the gate, free Coyote, and never look back!

Beauty must have seen the doubt in his eyes and chose to save him from his indecision by the simple act of exploding into violent motion. Hands still bound behind her, Logan felt the top of her head hammer into his chest and sent him tumbling across the floor.

“Guards!” De Sade shrieked in a high, shrill voice. “Guards!”

Beauty pounced on him taking them both to the ground. Her teeth sank into his shoulder as the guards rushed in. It took both of them to pull her off and not before she managed to viciously knee him in the balls hard enough for Logan to hear the impact from halfway across the room.

Logan rushed over, supposedly to help control her but in reality to protect her from retaliation until the Succubus was safely locked into the tiny cage. By the time it was done, one guard walked away with a deep bite on one hand. The other had to be carried out after Beauty nearly disemboweled him with her clawed feet. It was a long time before de Sade could uncurl from the fetal position on the floor.

“That looked like it hurt,” Logan offered as he looked down at him. “Good thing you enjoy pain, huh?”

*****

Logan sat on the bed, in the private room provided for his comfort and convenience, and stared out the window. Three months ago he had dreamed of the unimaginable luxury of a real bed to sleep on. A clean shirt and trousers had been provided for his comfort as well as a porcelain basin for washing up and candles for light. There were even items of luxury such as a mirror and a working clock on the wall.

None of it meant a damned thing to him. How could it, knowing Beauty was suffering less than two hundred feet away?

“I hate this plan.”

“It’s your plan,” Coyote replied in his mind.

“That’s why I hate it.”

“You need to calm yourself. Anger will only lead to mistakes.”

“I am calm!”

Coyote did not bother to argue and not just because the distance was making mental communication difficult. There was no point. They both knew Logan was furious at the cruelty he had been forced to participate in, but it wasn’t just that. Logan could keep his outrage in check for the sake of the mission.

It was the copper taste of fear in his mouth that he didn’t want to admit to. Fear for Beauty and Coyote, locked into cages, completely at the mercy of their enemies, and risking everything for his stupid plan. And something deeper that he did not want to admit, even to himself.

Baroness Graveek was terrifying.

She was like nothing he had ever imagined. Logan had grown up reading and watching science fiction. Countless tales of ancient monsters and ageless vampires had done nothing to prepare him for meeting one face-to-face.

Before today, “Elder demon” had just been a vague description. No longer. He had looked into her silver eyes and sensed the slow crawl of years come and gone. A dozen lifetimes lived. A thousand schemes planned and executed. An eternity at her fingertips to perfect her own brand of pure, perfect evil.

What possible threat was one twenty-nine-year-old professional soldier compared to that?

A man is not brave because he knows no fear. A man is brave because he is wise enough to recognize fear and do what is needed and right in spite of it. Those were his grandfather’s words to him, a memory of…

His last day on Earth. The day his grandfather died.

The scent in the room is sharp and sour, disinfectant, and an old man’s illness. He holds his grandfather’s hand at his bedside. The skin beneath Logan’s fingers is loose and paper-thin. Long, iron-gray hair lays against the white pillow cover. Grandfather’s face is thin and sunken, crosshatched with deep wrinkles. Only in his dark eyes does Logan see the reflection of the great man he knows and loves.

Grandfather has sent everyone else away, even his reluctant and unhappy wife. They are alone.

“Do not grieve, my boy. I go to my ancestors and will be at peace.”

Logan nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

He feels the old man gently squeeze his hand. “Before I go, I want you to know that I am proud of the man you have become. There has always been much anger in you but you have mastered it. Your spirit is strong. Hold on to that.”

“I will,” Logan hears himself manage to say.

“A time may come when your resolve will be tested. When or how I have never known. I only know that I have always felt a presence hiding in your shadow. Should such a day come, I am certain you will face it with heart and courage.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan replies. 

Grandfather offers a sad smile. “Neither do I, my boy. I have no easy answer for you. But remember that your ancestors and the great spirits of your people watch over you.”

“Grandfather…” Logan sighs, unable to say what has been said many times.

The old man grins. “I know you don’t believe. That’s ok, my boy. I believe for you.”

Someone knocked on his door, snapping Logan back to the present. A woman’s soft voice spoke up.

“Mr. Denke, the Baroness has invited you to a celebration of your victory to begin at the stroke of midnight. She suggests you get your rest now. Shall I return to wake you in time to be ready?”

“Yes.” He felt a shiver of foreboding crawl down his spine. “That sounds ominous.”

“It does,” Coyotes agreed. “I suggest you take the advice to rest while you can. You will need to be at your strongest for whatever lays ahead.”

Logan tried. After so long in the cavern, the bed was far too soft for comfort. When he finally fell asleep, dark dreams of Beauty in peril crawled through his dreams.

He sat up abruptly at the first knock on his door, heart pounding in his chest.

“Mr. Denke? Please be in the main hall in thirty minutes. Fresh clothes are outside your door.”

“Yeah,” he called out and rubbed at his tired eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, he was as ready as he was going to get. A quick check in the mirror confirmed that the provided clothes did not quite fit. Black pants and a black, leather vest chased in scarlet thread clung to his body like a second skin. He wondered if that had been a deliberate choice by his demonic hostess.

“Nice look, Captain Tightpants,” he told his unhappy reflection.

Last but not least, he slid his only remaining weapon back into his boot. A dagger blade snapped in half with the hilt and handle removed would not have been his preferred choice but, in a pinch, it would make for an effective punching blade. It was better than nothing until he could reclaim the gear de Sade had taken away “for safekeeping”.

Logan began making his way to the great hall. Another door on this level of the keep caught his attention. Unlike the rest, this one had a sliding viewport and a security bar, both on the outside.

Locking someone in, he realized.

A glance around revealed no one else in the hall around him. He reached up to slide the viewport open and take a look inside to the sound of steady, rhythmic breathing.

At first, he saw only an empty, richly decorated bedroom, like his own, before movement caught his eye. Logan looked down at a pair of athletic legs and a large, well-shaped, and very naked, female behind, rising and falling at a steady pace on the floor. Muscle rolled beneath the pale skin of a strong, feminine back and the shoulder-length fall of a thick braid of auburn hair. Biceps flexed as the woman continued easily through a series of push-ups.

Perhaps he made a noise because, after a moment, the woman paused to look back over her shoulder. She frowned, rose to her feet with casual grace, and turned to face him, placing her hands on her hips in a defiant pose. It put all of her lean muscle, dark pubes, and generous curves on full display. If her nudity bothered her at all, she gave no indication. Blue eyes stared back at him.

Amazon. It was the first word that popped into his mind as he stared at her.

She was a lot of woman. Easily six feet tall, with strong thighs, wide hips, and large breasts. Muscle rippled across a six-pack of abs.

“Come by for a peek?” she sneered. “Why don’t you come in for a closer look?” Her stance made it clear the invitation was for something far more painful than sexual.

“Ah, sorry,” Logan stammered. “I wasn’t excepting… I apologize. I’ll go now.”

“Wait!” she called and took a step toward him. “You’re not one of Graveek’s regulars. Who are you?”

Logan turned back and smiled though she could not see it through the narrow slot in the door. “How do you know I’m not?”

The woman arched a dark eyebrow at him. “Graveek’s people are not big on apologies.”

“Fair point,” Logan replied. “My name is… Karl Denke.”

“And are you also a prisoner, Karl Denke?” she asked.

Logan thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know yet.”

“Wise answer.” She nodded. “Whatever freedom you think you have on that side of the door are almost certainly a lie.”

“Thanks for the warning. What's your name?”

“Boudica.” Her chin rose and her blue eyes flashed. “Warrior Queen of the Iceni people.”

“I thought you might be,” Logan said. He looked past her at the luxuries on display and thought about Beauty in that horrible cage. “Though I didn’t think to find you in such comfortable surroundings.”

She sneered. “The Baroness thinks herself quite clever and hopes that comforts will break my defiance where punishment by others has failed to do so, but a golden cage is still a cage.” Her brow wrinkled as his words sank in. “How do you claim to know me?”

“I don’t,” he replied with another look around to make sure they were still alone. “I’m here to rescue you.”

A moment of silence passed then she burst into laughter. “By the gods, has the Baroness grown so desperate as to try such a ploy? Return to your Mistress, dog, and tell her I’ll not fall for it!”

“Right,” Logan muttered.

He could hardly blame her for being suspicious. He needed a way to convince her but time was not on his side. Any moment now, someone would notice his absence and come looking for him. Only one desperate idea came to mind.

Logan reached down into his boot, pulled out the knife, and dropped it through the view slot. She looked down at it on the floor and up at him with a stunned expression.

“Be ready,” he said. “Things are going to get very nasty, very quickly.” He shut the slide without waiting for a response and started walking just in time as a servant stepped out of the stairwell.

“Ah, there you are, Mr. Denke. Please hurry. The Baroness does not like to be kept waiting.”

Logan nodded and fell in behind the young woman. She was quite pretty in a demure sort of way. Mahogany colored hair spilled down a slim back. Naked legs flashed through a short skirt split high up on her thighs as she walked. Her face was all but hidden beneath a cloth cap and a constant habit of staring at the floor.

“You’re the one who was outside my door and brought me clean clothes.”

She nodded without slowing or looking up from the floor. “Yes, Mr. Denke.”

“What’s your name?”

Despite his friendly tone, the woman stumbled at his question. She finally looked up with confused, frightened, hazel eyes. “Amber,” she all but whispered.

My God, he thought. Has no one ever said a kind word to this woman? Logan felt immense pity for her but the soldier in him sensed a crack in Graveek’s defenses.

“It’s ok,” he smiled and reached out to steady her. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

He watched her eyes slide back down to stare at the floor but not before catching the slight blush on her pale cheeks. She only nodded and started walking again.

Maybe, he thought. Just maybe.

*****

The prison level was silent but far from peaceful. Tension hung thick in the still air with unspoken despair, anger, and gleeful hate. Beauty could see it in the haunted eyes of the damned souls caged around her as they glared at her. She simply watched them back, calm with a hunter’s patience, bending and stretching as best she could despite the discomfort of metal bars pressing in on all sides.

A dark-skinned, bald man finally broke the silence with poisoned words. “I can go to my fate content, now that I have finally seen one of them damned demons caged like an animal.”

A rumble of agreement floated up from the other cages. When it had settled down, Beauty spoke.

“Not caged long. My friend free me.”

The man laughed. It was a bitter, hopeless sound. “Demons don’t have friends, bitch.”

A woman with pale skin and tangled auburn hair spoke to him. “You know the monster is right. Her kind will never stand for her to be treated like a lowly human.”

“Friend is lover. Friend is human. Will free me… and you.”

A new and sudden silence fell over the room. The humans looked at her and each other with wide, uncomprehending eyes. Beauty resumed stretching as best she could within her tiny cell to keep her muscles loose and ready.

“Confinement has driven you mad, demon,” The man scoffed.

She shrugged. “You see soon. Be ready.”

“For what?” the woman asked.

Beauty paused to look around the room at each of them. “To fight back. All free when Graveek dies.”