Arrie and the Wolf 3 Read online

  Contents

  Arrie and the Wolf: Part 3

  Get Part 4

  Also By Eileen Glass

  © Eileen Glass

  “That’s enough.”

  I should be in shock. I should be numb and distant from myself, fading to darkness in a non-caring lull.

  “Let her go, that’s enough I said.”

  My blood fills his mouth, a tongue slicks across the broken flesh, and I cry out at the sting. From the jaws of the wolf, ribbons reach up like tiny hands trying to placate me with a soothing touch. I want to shake him off, but I’m limp and helpless.

  Edith holds up her necklace like it’s a watch refusing to tick. “My goodness, this thing must be broken.” She sighs, then mumbles, “No it’s me. Will, I need will. Need to channel.” In the tone of a scolding mother: “Listen dog. I am your mistress. Look at me! There you go. Now. Release the little wench.”

  His jaws slowly widen, his teeth leaving my flesh carefully.

  “Ah!” I regain movement, but at a terrible cost, my first twitch causing blood to spurt from the wound. There’ll be a blotch on the cell floor where she doesn’t scrub, a stain to soak in and stand as testament to my existence down here.

  I sag, my head flopping aside even as my neck tightens to hold it up. Sweetie is huffing, crying perhaps. He sounds like a broken squeaky toy my old dog would gnaw on. She’s reduced us to pathetic things. The ink rushes out to provide a billowy pillow for me to sink into. Those tiny fluttering hands, gentle as feathers, touch at the wound, encircle my throat with apologetic carefulness.

  I try to pull away from the probing, then reach up to swat him off me. Only to put my palm against my neck and wound and feel nothing but silk. Find that I can lift my head now, Sweetie providing the support. I poke.

  It’s hard to find any compassion in the glowing orbs. Even the chocolate eye looks furious, the lines dark and slanted like warpaint, the wolf’s shape apparent over his face as a mask of hate. It turns the corners of Rex’s mouth up too far in a hideous smile, black and red dripping from his teeth.

  Shuddering, I turn away, sink to the floor to huddle beneath him and hold my knees like the scared little boy I am. I sit in my own mess, and cry out, suddenly horrified to find myself leaking on the tile. But my hands around my own throat assure me that it’s stopped, that I’m not bleeding out. The ink has filled in the holes, plugged the leak. Sweetie, vicious and ugly, cradles me even now in my panic, silken ribbons encasing me like arms.

  It was her. She did this. I have to separate Sweetie from her actions. Easier said than done—I shrink when he hunkers to all fours, throw an arm up to protect my head when he reaches over me. I think he’s going to hold me, cradle me like the ribbons, but actually he’s stepping forward, the palm slapping the tile acting as his front foot, an animal’s threat rumbling through his body. I’m stepped over like a misplaced cub in need of defense.

  “He likes you…” Edith doesn’t get to examine me long. Trapped between his arms and his knees, Sweetie blocks her view by simply covering me. He seems to pay me no mind, his focus only for her, but the ribbons are always attentive, always supporting and petting. I struggle against them, meek but sensing a claustrophobia as they twist around my limbs, covering me like snakes.

  I don’t blame him but…

  He’s frightening. And telling myself that it’s all her isn’t helping.

  The ribbons are always gentle, but he doesn’t let me escape. When I squirm too much, he holds tighter.

  Edith, meanwhile, watches Rex clutch me close and paces, three steps left, three steps right, the heels clicking on the tile. The rapid sound marks each heartbeat and seems to strike my brain before my ears, building pressure. I want to escape. I want to explode.

  “Virgin,” she says, and the tapping stops. Her left foot jumps though, like the signal was delayed. I can see little else of her, but I hear her fingers snap. “That’s it!” That left foot keeps jerking, the toe jumping like it wants to resume the walk back and forth, like it just refuses to comply with the rest of her. She’s undone, her limbs out of sync, everything separate. Like a bad band trying to make music and only producing sound. “That’s perfect.”

  I keep pressing my neck, but I feel nothing besides ribbon and a strong pulse. The ribbon is firm, but not tight. This subtle choking isn’t unlike wearing a high collar to bed, but I still wish I could take it off. I can’t breathe free. No matter how I fill my lungs, I can’t get enough air.

  “Hah! I always believed in recycling!” Boy, she thinks that’s the funniest thing ever.

  “Sorry. Ahrrie. Believe me. Sorry.” The ink forms a hurricane around us, hiding us from sight. “She made me,” he whispers, and holds me so tight. His essence covers me.

  When I look up at him, he’s biting his lip. Wetness gathers on his lower lashes. His hateful ferocity has been replaced with heartbreaking rejection.

  Courageously, I cease my struggle with him, bet my life on his honesty. I feel that it’s right even if I know I’m stupid for assuring the beast that just turned on me. Still, I say, “Sweetie, no, it’s fine.”

  “It isn’t fine, not by a long shot.”

  Rex is back, and my heart stutters. There’s so much I want to tell him, and I thought I wouldn’t get another chance.

  “Rex I—” One eye is brown, almost perfect chocolate, the other still red. Halves. They’re sharing. Or…mixing? “Rex, er…Which one are you?”

  Both eyes stare intensely. “Which do you want?”

  I can’t speak.

  His mouth lowers to mine, he tilts my head back. I put up no resistance, let him in, even as I see the slick dark line coating his tongue. He doesn’t explore me with muscle alone, he reaches too far back, fills me too intimately.

  Edith waits on the other side of the dark curtain.

  “Recycling. Hah! What luck, what luck…” She starts muttering about the full moon. About blood, fire. Bad stuff to contend with out there. I wish I could stay in the eye of this hurricane forever, but I can’t.

  I break the kiss, gasping. Black smoke retreats from my lips and back to his, and I search for evidence of just who I was kissing, who’s growling like the monster and who’s nuzzling my chin. All Sweetie, the evidence proclaims, but he has Rex’s speech and intelligence. I envision myself holding two taster spoons of ice cream. Blood or chocolate, which will it be?

  “Hold her up front!” Edith snaps, and his ugliness returns. (My monster…) “No more playing around. Up front. Now! Let me see her.”

  How I hate her control over him. The creature is mine.

  I don’t fault him as the curtain disappears, as his gentle bands on my limbs push and pull me to face her. Strung up like a poorly behaved puppet, I let my legs dangle at odd angles, let my creature turn me around to face this woman. But I put up two middle fingers and blow her a juicy raspberry.

  The tight silk collar doesn’t leave my neck, but I don’t consider it to be a mark of ownership nor a symbol of submission. It’s a sign of my connection to him. He cares for me.

  Once she’s dead, I’ll keep him. And I won’t need the necklace.

  That’s what I want, this creature at my beck and call the way she has him, but willing. The thrill the thought brings…it reminds me of her excited face that moment when all the lights burst. Like her, I want to keep him, the big dark puppy with a bite. I want to sic him on her. Maybe we have more in common than just an interest in magic.

  I wouldn’t abuse him like she does. I’d cherish him.

  Edith looks me up and down. I’m tucked securely in my panties, but with my legs slightly pulled apart, she might see something, a bulge to give me away, and I squirm in his hold to close my legs as much as I can.

&n
bsp; “Hold her still,” Edith snaps, and my gentle restraints become firm.

  Her gaze is slimy. I want to tug my skirt lower. She keeps staring at my hips.

  “What do you want, bitch?” I spit out at last. But I hate to speak. I know she gets off on gloating.

  “You’re too shapeless to be my daughter,” Edith says, frowning.

  “Good because I’d hate to inherit that nasty dry hair.”

  She’s unperturbed.

  “But a virgin, well, that’s not a girl I can waste is it? Especially one who’s already proven…proficient.” She hums. “Bring her out. I want to see her better in the light.”

  Edith plucks a key from her pocket, opens the cell door without hesitation. “Come. Bring her here.”

  Rex makes a pained sound.

  I’ll make it easy for him. “Don’t fight her, Sweetie. I’ll forgive you after.” So I say with the pretense of comforting him, but there’s a motive. Door open. Want out.

  I fold in my middle fingers. Won’t mess up a second opportunity to attack her.

  As I’m lifted gently like a precious kitten, I make up several scenarios of how I can get free and turn this all around. Key actions include sudden movement and getting that necklace before I do anything drastic, since I doubt all the love in the world couldn’t stop poor Sweetie from twisting my head off at her command.

  Sweetie carries me behind him, goes to the door and stands there hunched over.

  Edith’s foot taps impatiently.

  His hands come up and brace on the bars, as if he’s resisting a pull, but not for long. He makes a whine and lets go, stumbling forward at last. He’s trying for me though, that’s important. I just hope he can keep doing so. What if she possesses him utterly? What if she’s wearing him down?

  Ugh, what if I go blind having to endure her low cut dress?

  Edith strolls to the kitchenette. Her feet jerk, but somehow she manages to float her way there. She’s more creature-ish than the tentacled spirit holding me up like a doll.

  She gets a glass of water.

  Rex grumbles, his grin pulled back to reveal his fanged ink teeth. Lines mar the smooth beauty of his face. He’s truly cute when it’s just eye make up and black ears up top. Like this, he’s a horrific Halloween mask.

  He walks ungracefully. Better than she does, certainly, but stiff. I’ve got strings attached, but he’s the puppet.

  “Poor Sweetie,” I murmur, speaking my thoughts, and his expression softens.

  “I can’t stop her,” he whispers. “She’s not allowed to look. She’s not allowed to touch. But I can’t do anything if she…”

  He hides his face from me, ashamed.

  I sigh, and lose all plans of fighting back. Should I fail, the things she’d make him do would hurt him too much. Smarter to catch her off guard anyway, I doubt she’s bringing me out here so she can make a mistake.

  Sipping her water, she strolls up to us and we fall silent and apprehensive. Her uncooperative sway weaves her sideways and back, but she manages the distance.

  I can see every stark shadow of her breast bones. Women are supposed to be soft and luscious, it’s a look I’ve envied all my life so I should know. She’s hard as a two-by-four and almost as skinny. I can’t look at her sagging chest without wanting to gag, but to take my eyes off the threat while it’s advancing is unwise.

  She stops before me. Sips her water. The slurp she makes turns my stomach.

  Then she just…stares.

  I promised I would make this easier for him, my poor enslaved Sweetie, but I can’t help myself. “Can I help you?” I grumble.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. Chin up.”

  What the hell, I oblige, lifting to look her in the face.

  She tsks. “I don’t know if I could put up with that ugly smirk on the face of my daughter.”

  “Are you adopting me?” I let my head hang. Can’t stare into her eyes too long, she’s too close. I tug lightly at my restraints. They aren’t totally rigid, Rex is feeding me as much slack as he can.

  “We’ll see. Your life depends on it girl, so quit making faces.”

  I’m entirely unprepared for her finger, a cold skeletal hook, snagging me under the chin and tilting me up for her inspection.

  “Get away from me,” I say darkly, my eyes averted, but it doesn’t help. While my heart races, my limbs tense with the effort not to move, not to struggle. She’ll force him to hold me down. Force him to break my arms maybe. I have to do this right for the both of us.

  But she’s in space, she’s too close. That bone wiggles underneath my chin, and I’m reminded of a pale blind maggot. She has clammy hands. And hair growing on her knuckles.

  I can’t see more, don’t dare look into her eyes at this close distance. She leans in, and I hold my breath.

  Rex, on the other hand, sounds like he’s tearing into meat, his growl muffled with effort.

  “Stop touching me.” I snarl for the both of us.

  “Your voice would grate on my nerves,” she murmurs. Her breath tastes like sour milk, like her mouth should be rotten and yellow, but it’s not. Her teeth are glaring white.

  Her claws, for they’re too sharp for nails, graze my throat. Rex’s breath huffs in my hair. He’s near with teeth bared and fierce mask on, but I can’t be assured by that. Lower they scratch, dipping under the ruffles like she’s going to undo the tiny buttons and reveal me.

  “My daughter had a gorgeous voice. Soft and seductive, like mine.”

  Yeah, but did she have an ugly knob sticking out of her throat?

  I open my mouth to say just that—and her nail scrapes a horizontal line above my jugular. I can feel the scrap through the ink, I see the essence of the ribbon come away underneath her nail. Should she decide I’m not worth keeping, she’ll grab a knife out of the drawer and slaughter me like livestock to be culled. Or worse, but it’s best I don’t think too much. It’s best I keep my mouth shut, swallow back my snark and let her finish her inspection.

  She rolls the ribbon between her fingers. Like a booger.

  “How is it that I happened upon a virgin your age?” she says ponderously. “Do you know what it takes to find one such as yourself by mistake?” She humphs. “I guess you’d have to be ugly and fat.”

  I’m not fat. I just wear more than skin on my bones, unlike the old bat.

  “Good thing we can do some upgrades later to improve. Don’t take offense girl, a natural beauty is rarer than a virgin and hardly worth the trouble. We can all be beauties with a little help.”

  She looks at my chest as she says that. Then: “So quiet? Don’t you want to say something? You’re the chatterbox you know. He was silent as a statue, I couldn’t get him to say a thing. But you’re always shouting and having a tantrum. Now watch this.”

  My gut twists when her gaze goes to Rex. She can poke at me all day, I can take it, but Rex has been through enough, damnit.

  “Speak!” she commands.

  Her eyes light up when he does so without even a second’s pause.

  “Mistress?”

  “Useful,” she murmurs. “Now then. Undress the ugly child. Let’s see how many visits to the surgeon it’ll take to make her presentable.”

  Rex, the ribbons, the ink collar on my throat, all of it seizes up, spasms, jerks, as the bottom drops out of my stomach. I thought I was getting away with this, but if she strips me…

  “Stop it!” I shout and fight the restraints, fight Rex himself.

  She chuckles.

  Rex does his best, I know it by the anguished, “Sorry, sorry, can’t stop, can’t do it,” he whispers behind me. I yank hard on the ribbons, knowing he’ll be as gentle as possible in restraining me, knowing I have to buy time to think of something. So long as I struggle, he’ll struggle with me.

  But that’s not a solution, dummy. Oh, Universe, give me a solution, I plead.

  “So shy. I’ve seen it all before, girlie.” She crosses her arms, brings the glass to her lips

>   There it is. My magic works!

  I pull hard with my arms to keep them both distracted. As the glass leaves her lips, as her stupid foot starts that annoying tapping of impatience, I cock my leg and sent my foot flying at that red mouth. The glass pops her in the chin and falls from her fingers, landing with a crash. Water soaks her withered chest.

  I’m quickly yanked in line by the boy I’ve come to love, held rigid. I can’t move more than my fingers and toes, stretched out for inquisition. Spread eagle in midair, unable to hide. The ribbons snake around me, curl at my sides, stroke down my calves, Sweetie’s gentleness apologizing. Or to follow through on her commands of stripping me. I follow their movements across my body for every subtle inclination for my buttons.

  Water drips off the chin of the old hag, like a dog who’s slurped at the bowl. She splutters.

  Coils her hands into fists, arms shaking.

  “You little bitch…”

  No mistakes. I can’t count on spilled water to keep her distracted from the truth. So I flex my cheeks, inhale heartily, and launch a spit missile right above her sagging bulldog jowls.

  She draws back and wails like I’ve thrown acid on her face instead of harmless saliva. A trail of said juice dribbles from the corner of my mouth, down my chin, and I let it, grinning happily.

  Her jowls wobble.

  “You…you cunt…”

  “That’s me.” Bitch, cunt. Good nouns. She has no clue.

  “Kill her!” Edith shrieks, and Rex lets out a wail even louder than hers, dropping to his knees. “No, no! Don’t. Too easy.” Edith straightens, holding her face like I’ve hit her.

  All I can do is grin, but I’m not happy. The lower wedge of my face is frozen, and my thoughts are stuck with it. I’ve done what I had to do. Whatever happens next is out of my control, and I surrender to that.

  “I’ll not let you get the best of me so easily, little darling. Hold her still, understand? Absolutely still, this time, no mistakes beast.”

  He already was. His willpower can’t overcome the commands of her thoughts. I only caught him by surprise.

  “You think this is so funny? Do you?” She leans in, gets right in my face, so close she might kiss me. Then I hear the crack of a whip and my neck twists ‘round, a painful stinging blooming on my cheek. I let my head hang, but I look up at her through the fringes of my loose hair.