“What other beasts will we be able to change into?” another Centaur child asked.
Isobel pointed to the walls, where she’d taped up images of different animals. “I can make it so that you can become any one of these. If you try really hard, you might be able to mix them up, and create your own beast.”
I sensed how their fear had turned to wonder, and I shook with the effort of trying to break free from the coven’s grasp. But they had me locked down so tight, I could barely even breathe.
Vic paced along the wall, looking at the images. “How many can you implant in one person?” he asked.
“It is one of the things I want to experiment with,” Isobel replied, as though that experimentation hadn’t already killed Centaurs.
When he glanced back at her, his eyes had a feverish look to them. Then he grinned.
“When can we start?” he asked.
Isobel’s smile broadened. “Whenever you like,” she purred.
* * *
To my surprise, when the Bellatis were hauling me back to the dungeon, Brock appeared out of nowhere. My guards fell in with him as he took us on a different route than usual—through a door I didn’t know existed that led us down a narrow hall lined with cells.
When he caught me peering into them, the bronze Dragon sneered at me. “If you see something you like, let me know. I can arrange an upgrade for you.”
The cells were squalid, with rotting cots and moldy straw. The torture chamber I resided in was, at least, kept clean.
What surprised me was the number of occupants. I recognized a few—this was where they were kept between sessions in the same chamber as me. None of them looked up as we passed, but rather shrank against the damp stone walls.
I didn’t blame them. Avoiding attention was paramount in this place.
Then we came to one that was a little larger, and cleaner. It had actual furniture, and a primitive washroom off to the side. The resident surprised me as well—it was a small, slim form with long red hair twisted into ropes and tied back from a narrow face with purple eyes. It appeared as though he wasn’t a stranger to Brock’s torture chamber—his clothing hung in shreds. He was collared, and regarded the bronze Dragon with a mixed expression of resignation and scorn.
Considering most regarded Brock with terror, it was a brave front.
“Can he meet me, or not?” the Dragon shifter demanded, rubbing his arm. “I can barely hear him now. This needs to get done.”
Something waved behind the prisoner—to my surprise, it was a tail, thrashing like an angry cat’s. As I stared, his eyes flashed. Was he talking to someone telepathically?
The creature straightened and replied, “This evening. Jana’s jewelry booth, east side of the market. He won’t have long, it’s hard enough to get permission to go there these days.” He glared at Brock. “Needs to know if you want the one to the Centaur refreshed too.” He hesitated. “Every extra bond will weaken the one with you. It takes energy to sustain them.”
“I know that, you fuckhead,” Brock snapped.
“I am not a fuckhead,” the prisoner snarled.
Brock’s eyes narrowed. “Watch it, Hitzu. I’ve had a hankering for tail, as of late. You aren’t above another session in the torture chamber.”
I’d heard of Hitzus, but never met one. He stiffened, but I thought I saw fear spasm across his features, and his eyes flashed again. “He will meet you just before the booth closes this evening.”
Brock nodded. “Very well. Tell him to discontinue the bond with the Centaur, for now.”
The big Dragon gestured for the Bellatis to move me on, while my mind raced. Nothing I’d just heard made sense—except that the Hitzu had been talking telepathically to someone. Who?
Before we exited the hall and entered the torture chamber, Brock stopped us once more to haul a young man out of another cell. As the Bellatis fastened the chain fixed to the wall on me, the bronze Dragon pinned his struggling captive into an apparatus.
His mating to Isobel hadn’t dampened his enthusiasm for his other pursuits. I lay down on the cot and turned my back to the sounds coming from the other side of the room. There was nothing I could do for either his fresh victim, or for myself.
I wished I could lay my hands on Brock, and finish him for good. The Dragon, however, wasn’t stupid. He took Isobel’s warning to heart, and kept his distance.
The woman herself arrived when he’d been busy with his victim for almost an hour. She wasn’t alone—she came with Laila, and my heart sank.
Brock had worked himself up into quite a state. “‘Bout time you got here, Icefire,” he complained. “My sharding nuts are ready to explode.”
