PART2
They walked outside and Logan was ready to see a
palatine, but instead there were four horses tied by
the door. The lean kid hopped onto a saddle,
gracefully arching his back to stay upright, as the
thorough-bred Arabic stallion reared up, thrashing his
hoofs in the air.
The black body-guard boys led Logan to one of the
horses, and he was grateful to see there were stirrups
there, since without them he would have had no chance
of getting on a horse with his hands tied behind his
back. The two guards quickly hopped on to their black
stallions, which seemed just like the boys themselves.
Logan eyed them briefly and chuckled. The guards
really looked like true twins, the weirdest twins he
had ever seen, but that’s what they were.
One of the boys got a hold of Logan’s horse’s rein and
rode on, leading Logan’s horse. Meanwhile Wolverine
tried to get a look at his new master. The kid was
young and generally good looking. His clothes and his
great horses (something Logan had a good sense for)
spoke about his wealth. ~Yeah, don’t forget he paid
two hundred Denaria for your ass. Last time ya cost
what, forty? Fifty?~
They rode through the darkness, and he worried at
first that they wouldn’t make it through the night,
since it was only Logan’s heightened sense of sight
that allowed him to see the road. Only, he wasn’t the
one with the rein, so that wasn’t going to help him
much…
That was when he realized it – the guards saw just as
good as he did. Moreover, by the moves of their
master, he was seeing perfectly too! For countless
years Logan had never seen someone with senses equal
to his own, and he’d grown to the thought that the
gift was unique. But now three more people appeared to
possess them.
He leaned forward a bit, almost coming near to
falling, hoping to get a better look at those weird
eyes of the kid. To his surprise they weren’t totally
crimson now, the red was only the irises, while the
pupils along with the orbs were pitch black. ~His
pupils must have been small under the bright light in
there – that’s why his eyes seemed crimson.~
They rode for a long time, and Logan finally started
to give into tiredness – the whole day of the market
had exhausted him completely. His shoulders sank and
his head started lolling from side to side, his body
slowly sinking forward.
He managed to doze off shortly during the ride, and
snapped awake only when he felt the horse stop. He saw
the guard boys jumping down, one of them never letting
go of the rein of Logan’s horse. Young LeBeau hopped
on to the ground in one fluent motion. ~Must be
spendin’ a lot of time ridin’~ he thought, carefully
sliding down. ~Damn cuffs…~ At least he hadn’t had to
walk on foot all the way here.
The building he saw made him suck in a breath. Being
built of black stone, it barely resembled the usual
Roman houses patricians lived in – light and cheerful.
This one was high, about fifty feet, and looked like
Darkness itself – a black monolith with several
gothic-like towers. Wolverine felt a chill run down
his spine, and another one – at the thought that the
master probably matched the house in behavior… ~Gonna
live in a dungeon~
They walked up the stairs, from the two black lion
figures at the bottom, and got inside.
Everything in there was screaming of wealth: thick
blood-red carpets and black velvet furniture were lit
by dozens of candles, creating the impression of a
distinctly mysterious and threatening place. A place
you should expect nothing good from.
Logan swallowed hard, and suddenly wished he was in
the quarries. At least there he knew what to expect.
Here his fate was a mystery.
They walked through several rooms, every one of them
carrying a spirit of some kind of inner terror, until
they reached their destination. The room was pretty
small compared to the others they had passed through –
about thirty feet only – with a large table in the
center. Two armchairs stood at the centers of both
longer sides of the table, opposite each other.
The master stepped to one of the chairs, the boys
pushed Logan down into the other one. His left hand
was uncuffed, and the cuff was locked around the arm
of the armchair, pinning his right hand. That left a
good half of the food on the table in Logan’s range,
but he couldn’t reach LeBeau by any means. ~Unless he
reached his hand to me – which I highly doubt he
would…~
The boys seemed to vanish into the air, leaving the
master and his new slave alone. Remy reached out to
take Logan’s glass. He poured red wine into it, and
then poured the same wine into his own glass. He
brought up the glass – a transparent piece of art with
a slight metallic glitter, as if it had wires inside –
and toasted to the man.
Wolverine didn’t let him go with his gaze, but he
didn’t smile back either. Basically, he hadn’t moved
since the time he got cuffed to the armchair.
He had to admit the chair was great and relaxing,
especially after the whole day of leaning on his
knees. The seat was soft and the chair-arms he had put
his own arms on were soft too. The cuffs weren’t
hurting, and there was delicious food in front of him.
He tried his best to ignore it, but saliva filled his
mouth the moment his nose caught the amazing scents.
He did find enough will to stare into the master’s
eyes, pretending to ignore everything around him.
Remy still held his glass brought up, and it was only
now that Logan realized what exactly he didn’t like
about the kid. He was smiling – yes, but his eyes…
~They’re cruel~ Logan whispered in his mind ~he could
torture a child to death with the same smile…~
The realization made him swallow. Remy’s glass touched
the table top again, not drunken from.
“Y’ may eat” he gestured to the table.
Logan snorted. “Not waitin’ fer yer permissions.”
The kid’s smile became a half-smile, claiming the
right corner of his lips. ~Bad sign – the right side
of the human face is controlled by consciousness, thus
usually lying~ Logan remembered what he had heard from
a gladiator once.
“Don’ tell me y’ ain’ hungry. What’s y’r name?”
Wolverine didn’t like the sultry voice the kid was
speaking with. Those tunes alone were making him sick.
~How can such a graceful body possess such an ugly
soul?…~
And the body was indeed amazing – lean, as well as he
could see, and he could see well under the soft silk,
and extremely agile and flexible. The face was tender,
yet firm, with sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes.
Those eyes – they were the reason his skin was
crawling. They were frightening enough – crimson as
they were – yet the cruel, almost sadistic statement
they carried made him feel a lot more than just
uneasy.
“Tell me y’r name, slave.” Remy tilted his head to the
side, and a rich wave of auburn hair slid over his
shoulder to the front, the candle light shimmering on
the silky strands.
“Logan” The brawly man muttered out roughly, his own
voice sounding like dog’s barking, while the voice of
the master – like a cat’s purr.
“So, Logan…” he purred, as if tasting the name. “De
famous Wolverine, non?”
Logan kept silent.
“I be seein’ y’ on de arena sometimes. Great deeds y’
did.”
Logan’s face remained cold and stern, his hazel eyes
looking at the kid slightly from under his eyebrows.
The kid leaned closer, his eyes suddenly peering into
Logan’s. “Dis wine was made two ‘undred years ago” he
whispered. “De grapes were raised an’ gathered on de
sunny beach of Greece, where de best miracles of de
world come from…”
His soothing voice was hypnotizing Logan, and his head
began to sway.
“…beautiful women gathered it an’ it stayed in barrels
f’r years an’ years before getting’ into dis bottle.”
LeBeau whispered. “Drink it, mon chiot, drink it all…”
Later on Logan couldn’t remember how or why he raised
the glass to his lips and drank it to the bottom. The
wine was really as good as the kid had said – rich and
marvelous red wine.
The kid took a sip and put the glass back. Reaching
out, he placed some fish on his plate and took a
silver fork and knife to cut it with amazing accuracy.
Logan knew – his friend slave told him once – that
eating fish was a real torture for patricians, since
they weren’t to touch it with their fingers. But the
kid seemed to be oblivious to the fact, and his
manipulations seemed natural and easy.
Taking a deep breath, Logan reached out too to take a
piece of meat. ~Gotta keep my strength up~ he thought,
munching on the food while holding it with his
fingers. Even though he knew his manners looked
barbaric compared to those of the kid’s, he didn’t
give a damn.
“So, how did y’ appear on de market?” the kid
questioned, giving him an ordinary glance. And again,
Logan caught that cruel spark in the young man’s eyes.
Logan kept chewing on, bite by bite, his eyes starting
to wonder around the room.
“I’m rememberin’ y’ had a great gladiator career.”
Remy mentioned. “Y’r skills were impressive.” He
grinned slightly, sending another tiny piece of the
white fish into his mouth.
Logan had already finished his piece of meat and was
ready to get another one, when his head span slightly.
~The wine… something must have been in the wine…~ he
grasped the arms of the chair, trying not to sway, his
eyes travelling around the room. ~damn wine…~
Remy was talking, probably addressing him, yet Logan
stayed oblivious, frowning as the dizziness was
claiming his body.
“Relax, mon chien.” For some reason the voice sounded
right beside him. Logan turned his face to see the kid
standing behind him, leaning on the back of his
armchair. He could feel Remy’s hand tangling into his
black hair, but he couldn’t do a thing. He tried to
raise his free hand, but had to put it back quickly,
as the spinning increased, and all his senses told him
he was falling down already, though he was still on
the chair.
Soft fingers ran over his cheek, as the kid leaned in
to him, his arm going over his chest. “Dere’s not’ing
y’ can do, mon chien. Just relax and let it take y’
over.” He soothed with a sweet smile smile on his face
– too sweet to promise good deeds.
Logan growled at his own weakness and tried to shake
off those hands. “Leave me the fuck alone!” he grunted
under his breath.
A soft hand caressed his throat. “Dey all say dat at
first… mais den… dey plead…”
It felt like he was in some horrible nightmare. Not
able to move, barely able to speak, head swinging, and
those hands all over him, caressing, pinching,
demanding…
He groaned under his breath, and the blackness took
over.