Demon’s King (High Demon #3)(4)
Author: Connie Suttle

* * *

"How soon can she be moved?"

"Tomorrow, if you do it your usual way. Make sure you have a secured place for her—she’s staying awake longer."

"You think I haven’t already thought of that?" A snort followed that statement. First voice was speaking. Something worried me about the voice, but they’d given me painkill earlier. Drugs were second voice’s choice if he didn’t want me to be awake while he did whatever he was going to do. I imagined he had to give a lot of it—a normal dose wouldn’t do. He probably had to experiment at first, just to get the amounts right. Now I wanted more than anything to allow the drug-induced sleep to come, but fought it to learn whatever I could.

"You’re not going to hurt her, are you?" Second voice sounded worried. Another snort but no answer this time. I had no idea what that meant and it frightened me. I hadn’t carried any ID other than the false one Lendill had sent with me. They couldn’t know I was ASD. What did they want with me? That thought raced around a track in my brain with no way to stop it or turn it aside. And they hadn’t said where they were moving me. I hadn’t felt this helpless since I was small and Edan had beaten me, breaking a wrist and cracking ribs.

"You should be asleep," first voice said; the fingers against my forehead followed.

* * *

"Make sure it’s secured—we don’t want anything happening. The boss will be pissed if she manages to dislodge the mattress." That’s what I woke to—another place. I was sure of it—it smelled different. They’d moved me while I slept. Since I had no concept of time or where I’d been before, I knew even less now. The blindfold was still in place and I was still restrained. At least three were working around my bed—I could hear them moving, cursing softly and breathing.

"Careful," the one who’d mentioned the boss said from my left. That statement was followed by the sounds of a buckle fastening and more soft cursing. I tried sending mindspeech to Lendill and the others but there was still no reply. Could I skip? Was I strong enough? It took full concentration to do it. A healthy body would be a plus, but that might not come for a while, if ever.

I still had no idea why my captors had kept me alive or what they wanted from me. I gathered my wits about me and made the attempt to skip. Nothing. I was still right where I was with my attendants securing me to a bed somehow. "Watch the bag." The voice came again. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I still couldn’t place it. With my wits addled as they were, I wasn’t surprised. My mind could be playing tricks on me, too—I knew that.

"All done," one of my attendants heaved a relieved sigh. I heard them walking out and then the sounds of an iron-barred door closing. I knew something of where I was then; I’d heard that sound many times over the past few years. It was the sound of confinement. I was in a prison cell.

* * *

"I think we can remove the feeding tube this afternoon." Second voice was back. I hadn’t heard from him for several days. Someone else had come to bathe me in between. Someone with gentle hands, although they never spoke. Those hands always stopped if I whimpered with pain, giving me a moment to deal with it before beginning again.

"Then we’ll have to remove the blindfold too, if we expect her to feed herself." First voice was also back. He didn’t sound happy.

"She will be weak—she may not be able to lift her hand at first—you’ve kept her restrained. We should have been exercising her more."

"Don’t tell me my business. I know what I’m doing."

"Of course. Sir."

"Call me when the tube comes out. I’ll let you remove the blindfold at that time. We may get some feedback from our prisoner then." First voice walked away.

"Taking the tube out won’t hurt much, don’t worry about it," second voice soothed. At his words, I decided to try my voice. I hadn’t spoken for a very long time.

"What does he want?" My voice cracked—my mouth was too dry.

"I don’t know the whole of it, and I couldn’t tell you anyway. He has forbidden it." I wanted to ask if they were going to hurt me. Ask what they knew about me to keep me like this. I didn’t. I knew better. I had to be patient. Right then, I had very little in the way of patience. I would have to work on that.

"Pretty girl," second voice went on, "I have to ask you now not to hurt yourself if we remove the restraints. Can you do that for me? You won’t have control over your muscles at first, and you’re still in casts—your arm and both legs, anyway. We’ll have to wrap your ribs better once the feeding tube comes out. I know it hurts to breathe." A hand stroked my forehead.

"Name?" I asked.

"He won’t allow me to tell you. Mine or his." I tried to swallow but my mouth was too dry. "Here." He swabbed my mouth with a moistened applicator. That helped. "We have an IV line in too, to keep your fluids up. We’ll remove that at the same time."

"Should have let me die," I whispered.

"No." Second voice whispered back. "The target did get killed. The boss said finding you afterward was the biggest bonus he’s ever gotten."

Was he saying Zellar was dead? Was that what he meant or was there someone else? "Of course all of Zellar’s little apprentices are out there now and we have to hunt them down." Second voice sounded extremely angry about that. At least I knew that Zellar was dead, but what was that about apprentices? How many were there? Would they do what Zellar had done, draining worlds until they died? That frightened me and my heart rate and breathing increased.

"I didn’t mean to upset you, sweet girl. Calm down, all right?"

"You don’t know that I’m sweet," I rasped.

"No, I don’t know that," he chuckled softly. "I do know you’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time and the boss will kill me if I lay a hand on you other than to treat your wounds." He moved around for a while before leaving. "I’ll be back in a few ticks," he promised. The sound of the iron-barred door opening and closing came next. I heaved as much of a sigh as my ribs allowed.

* * *

"IV out first," my right hand felt the tug as the line was pulled out. The hand was wiped with cold disinfectant before a bandage was laid across the wound. "Not much bleeding, that’s good," second voice said. "Now, for the feeding tube." He rustled around the bed, unhooking the bag, I imagined, just by the sound of it. A click—the line had been closed off. Didn’t want the contents of my stomach everywhere, I suppose. "Now, we take the stitches out," a snipping sound and then the tugging came. Removing the stitches didn’t hurt much at all. The tube coming out did. It caused a muffled shriek to escape—I hadn’t been expecting it.