Stealing Kathryn Page 4

  She bit her lip and leaned closer with irresistible curiosity so she could get a better look at him.

  He was on his forearms and knees, his face burrowed into his hands. He was dressed entirely in black. The clothing, what she could see of it, was alien to her in its fashion. Even the fabrics looked strangely coarse. It was nothing she had ever worked her needle through, and she prided herself on being a remarkably fair seamstress.

  She could see the back of his large head. His features were further hidden by an outrageously thick and long tumble of silken black hair that sprouted from his scalp, tumbling forward over his neck and face. She followed the line of that neck, picking out the distinction of his bold spine through his shirt fabric and the spread of the back of an immense rib cage. His waist was narrower, though probably still as wide as her thigh was long. His hips were less wide, but in a similar proportion to the rest of his physique. The legs, tucked in a rather fetal manner beneath himself, were the size of good-sized and very sturdy tree trunks.

  Sweet Father, he was twice the size of any man anywhere! She suspected he would dwarf her own husky father.

  Another tormented groan rose from the object of her fascination, snapping Kathryn’s attention back to the huge man’s obvious distress, as well as her present situation. She warned herself to exercise caution. She might be a scrapper, but there was nothing she could expect to do against someone so much bigger than she was. It was likely, she told herself, that this was the person who had all the answers to what was going on.

  Well, that meant she needed him to talk. And he wasn’t likely to do much of that if he was hurting. And besides, he sounded almost sad as he made those painful little sounds.

  She scuttled off the bed. Approaching him slowly and carefully lowering herself to her knees beside him, she leaned over him and laid her hands on his shoulders as comfortingly as she could.

  “Can I help you?” When she received no immediate response, she moved forward a little farther and sought to gain his attention by placing her hand in his hair at the back of his head. “Here now, let me help you. Please.”

  Kathryn gave a yelp of shocked surprise when he suddenly lurched away from her touch, stumbling and crashing heavily to the floor, trying to crawl away from her. He barely progressed another foot before collapsing face-first into the carpeting. He whined piercingly, like an animal in raw, anguished agony, making the hair on the back of her neck raise up as if someone had just trod across her grave.

  Kathryn’s heart stuttered and her eyes widened. She had never heard such a horribly inhuman sound before. It was terrifying. But as he whimpered softly again, she knew it was the most pitiful thing she’d ever heard and there was no way she could even pretend to ignore him. Bolstering her courage, hesitating with each movement, she slid cautiously back to his side.

  “Please,” she begged softly, “let me help you.”

  She touched him again and he reacted as if she had burned him. He recoiled, an agonized roar splitting her ears as it tore from the huddled black mass before her.

  “Leave me alone!”

  She fell back away from the booming power of his voice rattling the treasures around them in their casings. It must be the acoustics and the vastness of the room that made it amplify in such an ominous way.

  She felt icy cold fingers of dread stroking at her throat.

  There’s something familiar about that voice.

  Her nightmare! He was the one who had been in her—

  But no! Then that would mean it—all of this—either all of this was still the same dream or—

  Or it was all real? If so, then he was the one who had touched her time and again in unwelcome ways. It didn’t seem possible, but why else would she know his voice if it hadn’t somehow been real? And it was this monstrous man who had somehow spirited her away from her home and had subjected her to all this awful terror and fear. Trapped her there like one of these shiny baubles to be gaped at and toyed with.

  Bastard! she thought with unaccustomed vileness. Soulless bastard! Her family had been dying and he had violated them and her by stealing her away! Kidnapping her!

  “Bastard!” she screeched, the thought of her abandoned and helpless family riling her up like a madwoman. “You bloody bastard of hell!”

  She was no longer sympathetic to his pain as she flew into him, pummeling him with her relatively small fists. Somewhere in her enraged mind, a quiet voice told her she was probably doing him little or no harm. He was so much bigger than she, and Kathryn could now feel the thick masses of muscles beneath her battering hands. But regardless, it made her feel better to fight back. Then she, who had never wished harm on the slightest of creatures, felt joy that he was in pain. Utter, mind-numbing joy.

  She was completely unaware of the ripple of renewed strength that was shuddering through her victim. She was oblivious to the fact that his agonized moans were replaced with a soft sigh of something slightly but distantly akin to pleasure.

  The next thing she was aware of was a bone-chilling, wickedly rolling laugh. Then he surged up before her like a monolith of black rage.

  She froze, her entire body locking. No breath. No blink. Not a glimmer of movement as her shocked eyes tried to absorb the impact of the face looming above hers.

  He was hideous!

  She had never seen such a grotesque compilation of features and was paralyzed with panic that she was seeing it now. The entire face was bloated over warped, distended bones. His forehead and jaw jutted out in a way that would give his profile a crescent shape. Cheekbones, fat with flesh, protruded starkly before falling into the contrasting concave cheeks themselves. His eyes were enormous, though sunken, the lids above and under colored in brown shadow in severe contrast to the pristine white of the rest of his complexion. The eyes themselves she had seen before. They were a brackish, swamplike black and green. The blackness in them twisted into horrifying shapes and mysteries her mind could not bear.

  But the worst of it, the utmost horror of him, was his mouth. The upper lip was abnormally larger than the lower one. And as he released a malevolent laugh, she saw the wicked gleam of two fangs.

  Vicious, monstrous fangs.

  Kathryn screamed.

  Awful! Terrible! She had never seen anything—

  He seized suddenly, twisting slightly as a look of pain—pleasure?—coursed through him. Then his dreadful eyes were upon hers, sending frenzied fright bolting into her.

  But before she could move, his hands came out and seized her by her upper arms. He dragged her hard up against his chest, cold and hot sensations bleeding into her wherever he contacted her flesh.

  “Kathryn,” that dreadful voice hissed in exultant evil, “you are mine, Kathryn. Forever! I thought your purity would be the greatest treasure.” He threw back his head and laughed with terrible glee. “Wrong! So wrong! Your corruption…the corruption of all your innocence will be my glory! Look at me! There was pain, horrible pain, but all it took was your rage, your sweet rage to make me pulse with power again!” His malignant eyes bored into hers and she felt as though her very soul were being coerced from her. “Mine! Forever!”

  “No!” She shook her head madly, struggling to be free, to get away from his sulfurous breath and damning words. “I will do nothing to please you!”

  “Oh, but you already have.” He seemed to become incredibly calmer then as his eyes roamed intimately over every part of her. He reached out as if in a trance and stroked her fine hair. She recoiled, her stomach turning madly as she shuddered in revulsion. “You are so beautiful. Such a treasure. I have never had such a treasure as you. I was wrong to think you would be most beautiful in an enchanted repose. I like you much better awake, Kathryn.” She felt long, clawlike nails scrape down the length of her throat; then they seemed to retract a little, leaving his fingertips flush against her. “I can feel your life’s blood here. It is hot. Sweet. So vital and pure. Precious cargo in an even more invaluable container.” He pulled back a little, sh
aking his head as if there were intense thoughts warring within him. His eyes flashed a hundred shades of green in a matter of seconds.

  “Don’t touch me!” She struggled in vain within his grasp. “You can’t do this to me! I am a…a free human being! Please. You can’t just keep me here!”

  Kathryn felt hot tears slipping down her face. He was marveling over her like a thing, like a valuable piece of art or an antique…like just another one of the dumbly exquisite treasures she had seen around her. Was that what this was, then? A treasure room, and she the latest curiosity?

  “Free, eh? Trapped on that ranch in the Australian wilderness with your father, playing mother to your sister because you know he cannot take care of her for himself? When, in your heart, you want to run to the city and experience a fully different sort of life. So what difference is it from being your father’s captive, when you can just as easily be mine? Accept your fate, Kathryn. Be thankful. There could be worse fates.”

  “None that I can imagine could be worse than being a pet to a monster like you!” she cried, wrenching herself madly now in order to be free.

  Her words angered him and she felt the claws in his fingers extending as if in response to the emotion roaring through his eyes and growling from his chest.

  “You dare much!” he hissed. “I hold your fate in my hands, little creature! How easy it would be to corrupt you! How delightful. It could be my greatest pleasure if I wish it!”

  “No!” Rage washed through her and she lunged, reaching up blindly, striking for his face with her own nails.

  But something made her catch herself mid-action. Like a tossed coin, she flipped from tails to heads and the world rushed in a mad whirl around her.

  Kathryn, this is not you, a quiet inner voice seemed to whisper.

  She looked up into his eyes in stunned confusion. She was further troubled by the shock registering in his midnight green pupils. He had expected her to hit him, she realized on a quick, calm level of her brain. He hadn’t expected her to be able to stay the urge that…that he had been feeding into her! It was him! He was making her feel these things, and probably enjoying it! Corrupting her would give him pleasure, he had said. Well, she would not give in to his evil influence. She would not!

  Kathryn suddenly had a mad idea.

  He had pulled away in agony when she had touched him with kind, gentle hands. It occurred to her that this might be the only means of escape she would find.

  It was insane. There was no reason for it to have any foundation in truth. But hadn’t there been endless stories, some stranger than this, where the antithesis of good or of evil could harm each other? If he could hurt her…

  Softly, slowly, she quieted her thoughts. She relaxed in his grip and searched her mind for a pleasant memory or thought. One that would not lead her to anger or fear.

  She ignored him when his eyes narrowed on her.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice ominous and threatening.

  What if, like any wild beast, he was unable to help what he was? she considered. Kathryn reached out and stroked the creature’s chest with all the sympathy in her heart, her thoughts making it easier to touch him with honest caring.

  His howl was so sharp, so sudden, that she almost lost her tenuous hold on her concentration. To her surprise, relief and bewilderment, her idea was working. He was in pain once again.

  But she refused to take joy in that; it was not in her true nature to take joy in that. It was his presence that had caused those earlier feelings. But now that she was aware of them, blocking them from herself intentionally, she was free to feel honest pity for the thing that he was.

  Her thoughts seemed to wrench into him like a hot poker spearing his heart. He jerked his hold from her as if she burned him. Kathryn screamed out in surprised pain as his claws scored the delicate skin on her arms. But she found a mind-clearing strength in her pain. She advanced on him even as he reeled backward.

  “Let me help you.” She intoned the words gently, carefully. “You cannot help what you are. I can see that now. But you cannot be all evil. I have always been taught, have always believed that there is some good in everything. Even if just a little.” She did believe that. There must be something in him that was good. It was his fight against it that was probably causing him such agony.

  Somehow, she knew this to be the truth of it.

  “Sleep!” he screamed suddenly, his voice at a peculiar high pitch as he cast a desperate hand sweeping in her direction. “You will sleep!”

  Kathryn staggered suddenly as a stunning wave of exhaustion rushed her. What the hell is this? she wondered, gasping for breath as she tried to balance on her own feet. It was some kind of a spell! She looked at him through hazy vision and saw the utter shock and disbelief in his eyes that his spell had not worked properly. It gave her confidence, and some of her strength began to bleed back into her. She stepped forward again.

  “I will not sleep. I will stay awake. I will stay with you forever, remember? You will either have to fight me forever, or give in to what is right! Don’t worry,” she murmured soothingly, “I will care for you.” Just as she had cared for her sick family. Just as she had cared for any living thing in pain or in need all of her twenty-two years on Earth. Because the universe had created her to love all things.

  He fell to the floor with a crash, writhing like a tormented demon from the darkest pit in hell.

  But Kathryn didn’t know how long it would last. She didn’t know what to do next. She felt honest remorse fill her heart at his plight and his agony. Suddenly, she wanted to leave. If what he was was all he could be, she did not wish to be the cause of his pain for another moment. She wanted to get away so he could be at peace.

  The compassionate thought just about killed him.

  Then, out of nowhere, a gnomelike little man leapt out at Kathryn, backhanding her fiercely across her face.

  Kathryn was flung backward, landing hard on her back so all the air rushed from her body. She was shaking her dizzy head and tasting her own blood as she watched the new intruder. He seemed to back off from her in sudden terror, clutching his hand as if in regret of what he had done and alternatively pulling his gray hair out with anxiety. He cast beady dung-colored eyes between her and the monster lying prone on the floor.

  “Oh, Cronos. Oh, Cronos. Oh, Cronos,” he repeated in dismay over and over again.

  Kathryn tried to get up, but he screamed like a harpy and ran at her, raising his hand threateningly over her. He laughed in relief when she reflexively cowered from another painful blow.

  “You stay! You stay! Bad treasure! Bad, bad treasure! To hurt the Master is bad! Cronos hurt treasure, damaged treasure, but the Master will not mind this time. He damaged you too. Yes, I see. Yes, I do.” He seemed ecstatic with his own thought processes, pacing madly to and fro between the two bodies in the room. One he feared, yet he had found power over her. The other he feared even more, but wanted to help out of mindless devotion.

  “Master! Get up! Get away! Flee from the bad treasure! Shall I kill it? Shall I throw it away? It will never hurt you then!”

  The Master was suddenly lurching to his feet, still staggered with blinding pain, but strong enough to grab Cronos by the scruff of his neck and lift him up to look into his eyes.

  “Do…not…touch!” the Master gasped in agonized stammers. “Do you…hear me? Never touch…her again!”

  Then he cast the gray little man aside and staggered unseeingly to a set of doors Kathryn hadn’t even had a chance to notice.

  “No!” she screamed. “I won’t let you leave me here!” She was up and running, determined not to lose her last chance at escape. The creature was too weak to fight her and the little man had been ordered not to harm her.

  But she made the mistake of letting the rage he influenced in her come through. When he turned, shifting back his massive shoulders to glare coldly in her eyes, his pain was obviously ebbing. She gasped, skidding on the carpet to stop the
forward motion that would carry her right into him. She stopped, but one massive arm swung out to her, black claws rending the skirt of her gown as he seized hold of it and used it to drag her forward.

  “Mine,” he growled. “Forever.”

  Then he shoved her back, allowing himself and the awful little man to exit unimpeded out of the door. It was slamming shut as she flung herself against it.

  She screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

  Adrian staggered down the grand hallway, the effects of her attack not so easily shaken off this time. He needed his mirror. He needed to lose himself in the comfort of its darkness. There he would hide until Aerlyn could recover. It was she who had kept him from feeling these agonies, he knew that now. She was such an eager receptacle for good that it had never had a chance to touch him before.

  So this was what happened when it did, eh? It was horrible! He had never thought such a fate could be his. But it served as justified penance for the sin he had committed against his sister.

  Another wave of pain crashed into him suddenly, more painful than anything the little conniving creature in his treasure room had given him.

  What she had given him was secondhand. His present feelings of remorse and repentance were his own, and the fact that such good could be born so suddenly in one so black made it a powerful thing.

  He was at the head of the stairs when it hit and he lurched forward and over, tumbling helters-kelter down the curving staircase.

  Hours later—or was it days?—Kathryn sobbed in exhausted despair, her cheek pressed to the smooth wooden door as if it could bring her closer to the other side. She was crumpled upon the floor, leaning heavily against the sickeningly lovely portal of her prison.

  “Please!” she cried hoarsely, her voice rasping weakly from overuse. “Let me out. Please!”

  She had used a hundred, a thousand, similar pleas. She had begged and cajoled with insane single-mindedness for her freedom, exhausting every resource of appeal or possible influence she could come up with.