Captive Angel Ch. 13

The room's walls were covered with pictures, hand drawn; they seemed to tell some kind of story, like hieroglyphics from ancient Egypt. Some were crude, others were drawn with more of a flare, showing a girl, shackled, her hair reaching her waist, a white robe cascading from her shoulders being held down to a platform of some kind.

It could have been the same kind of platform that was in the front of the room. Angel made her way to it carefully. It was a huge slab of stone; long circular patterns carved into the center, leading outward, like tiny drains, one to each corner of the slab. Angel bent low, blowing on the dust that covered the slab, intrigued by what it could be for.

Her hand slipped down, brushing at the stone and she felt a shock, almost as if electricity had gone through her. When she raised her head, the dust was gone as if it had never been there. Around her, the world had taken on a new mien, torches lit in their holders, casting flickering light over the room. A huge golden statue was set at the head of the slab, in its golden hands rested the giant ruby. It gleamed with fire, seeming to collect the light of the torches and reflect them back, sending out a rosy glow into the room.

Angel heard voices, male voices, loud and uncouth, speaking in a tongue she shouldn't be able to understand, but she did. They were praying, but not just any prayers, they were praying to their gods to rid them of a sudden plague. The white man had arrived, his kind bringing not just rot to the land but illness to the people.

A scream rent the air and Angel spun around, her hand going to her throat.

A girl, young, not more than eighteen was being dragged into the room. Her eyes were wild and she struggled against the robed men who held her. "No, please, I beg of you," she sobbed, her struggles growing even wilder when she saw the slab. No, it wasn't just a slab of stone. It was an altar.

A low growl sounded from behind her and Angel spun again, her eyes as wild as the girl's. The man behind her was an imposing figure, tall and wide; he wore the head of a bear on his own head, making him look even taller.

His body was covered with the fur of the bear; on his hands were the paws, their nails still attached, sharp and infinitely terrifying. He growled, moving around the altar.

Angel scurried out of his path, backing away from the altar and the scent of death that seemed to come from it. As she watched, the girl, her dark hair shining like silk in the light of the torches, her body clad in a short robe that fell open from the neck, exposing her soft curves and the black pelt of curls at the apex of her thighs.

Drums beat in the back ground, growing from a distant rumble to a loud thunder as the poor girl was taken to the altar and laid on her back, men going to each of the four corners and holding down her wrists and ankles.

Her head was tipped back, her mouth forced open and a concoction was forced into it, her jaw held shut until she was compelled to swallow it.

Angel could see her throat muscles moving; see how she fought not to gag as whatever she was given made her choke. She coughed and sputtered trying to turn her head to the side to no avail. More of the liquid was forced into her mouth. This time she managed to swallow it, moaning as she did, her eyes closing. When she opened them again, they were glassy and her pupils were dilated. She stared around her, moaning softly but no longer fighting.

Men came from the entryway to the chamber, which was no longer just a slim crack in the wall but a wide doorway. They walked up the aisles made by the placing of golden statues, slender women figures with huge breasts and misshapen heads, large bellied women whose genitals were exaggerated, male figures with outlandishly huge penises. All were of a sexual nature that was easily recognizable.

Angel tried to get out of the way of the men who came to circle round the altar but it was no use. She was pushed to the front of the men who acted as if she were another one of them. The man with the bear head moved forward, standing over the girl, his sharp claws resting lightly on the altar next to her smooth skin. He growled loudly and a silence fell over the men broken only by the tiny whimpering cries of the girl who lay before her.

She wanted to do something to help the girl, she wanted to run, screaming, from this place, but she couldn't. It was as if she were frozen in place, unable to move, unable to talk, unable to do anything but watch as the ceremony was started.

The bear man growled, he roared out words that held no meaning to any of the gathered assembly of men. He danced before the girl who had turned her head to watch him, her whimpers gone and a strange calm falling over her. He threw off the bear fur, exposing his body to all who watched. He was a fine figure, strong with long taut muscles that were lean and spoke of hard work. His skin was dark; his hair that came from under the bear head was black, shining with blue lights in the flicker of the torches.

He was beautiful in a crude and rugged way; even the tattooing that wound over his chest and down his stomach, slipping over his thighs and down his legs was strangely attractive. There were shapes of animals, long curved lines and strange geometric patterns, all done in a blue ink that contrasted sharply with the darkness of his skin.

He danced around the altar, the men stepping back to give him room to pass then pressing close again, seeming anxious to be as near to the girl as possible. Angel heard a few groans, heard one-man whisper something to another and knew they were speaking of the girl's nakedness, enthralled by her curves. She had large brown nipples and a waist that would be easily spanned by a man's hands. Her hips were wide and generous, made for cradling a man's, her sex pink and pouting between her spread legs.

Bear man moved closer, his claws lightly scouring over the girl's skin, leaving trails of red welts behind. He touched her stomach, moved one claw lower until it touched the crisp curls between her thighs, pressing the claw into her flesh until it drew blood.

She didn't even flinch; just lay there, letting him touch her, hurt her, as if she couldn't feel it. Perhaps she couldn't, perhaps that was what was in the concoction she'd been forced to drink.

The bear claw went to her breasts, pushing one claw deep into the skin just over each brown nipple before sliding over the taut tips that seemed to grow even harder as he moved over her skin. Blood, bright red and thick, trailed down the side of her breasts, following the lush curve until it dripped down onto the table beneath her. It gathered in the groves, filling them slowly and then trailing around in the pattern of swirls and curves under her to drip onto the floor.

He drew a circle in the blood that pooled on her stomach, dipped his finger into it and used it to draw circles on the girl's forehead, chanting all the while.

Then he traced his finger around her lips, painting them red with blood.

Every time the wounds on her breasts and mound would start to clot, the blood flow slowing, bear man would reopen them, going deeper if necessary, to force the blood from the girl. Angel could barely stand to watch, it seemed so cruel, so disgusting and medieval.

Just as she thought she would have to flee, bear man picked up a long dagger, the double edged blade gleaming wickedly in the light. Holding it above his head, he drew circles and other figures in the air as he chanted, bringing the blade down slowly to dip in the blood of the girl. His voice rose, and the other men around her began chanting, strange words, rough and crass words. The chanting seemed to crash around her, blaring and loud, unstoppable.

Her eyes stayed upon the blade, staring in horror as the blood dripped off the end, making patters upon the soft skin of the girl on the altar. Even as the chanting grew impossibly louder, she couldn't tear her gaze from the blade.

Another man, coming from behind the bear man, slapped his hand down on the table next to the huge statue, his fingers filling in the grooves and pressing downward. The hands grasping the ruby parted, the stone falling down toward the altar and the girl.

It seemed almost slow motion, the way the stone rolled, falling into the grooved track, rolling toward the girl who seemed oblivious to all but the man standing above her. As it fell, so too did his hand with the dagger, speeding down towards the soft flesh of the girl.

The timing seemed too perfect, the stone touched the girl at the same time as the dagger began to plunge into her, just as silence fell over the room.

"Angel!"

She felt herself falling and then familiar and welcome arms wrapping around her, helping her to the floor of the cave even as he cushioned her with his big body. "Hunter?" she moaned, her hand going to her forehead.

"Who else did you expect it to be?" he chided gently. "Baby, are you all right? You were holding onto that table so hard I had to pry your hand away."

Angel lifted her hand, staring at the dirt that crusted over her fingerprints. "I was still touching the table? It was only a hallucination? But it seemed so damn real."

"What seemed real?" he asked her, rocking her gently in his arms, his hands stroking over her. He'd never been as scared in his life as he had when he'd seen her white face, her eyes staring unseeingly over the top of that slab of rock. She hadn't spoken to him or even seemed to know he was there. She just stared, drops of perspiration dripping from her face. He drew his canteen from off his shoulder, holding it out to her.

She took it but her hands shook too badly to open the top. He took it back, unscrewing the bottle and handing it back to her, only to have to help her lift it to her lips.

"It was a human sacrifice," she said around sips of the water. "I watched as a group of men took a girl, put her on that slab and slowly bled her before finally stabbing her to death." Her voice shook as much as her hands as she spoke, remembering the dull acceptance that seemed to come from the girl in the end.

"Well, it's a good thing we already took care of your virginity," he said, trying to make her laugh. "You might have been next."

"Ha ha," she snorted, though she did feel better now, with his arms around her. "This place is evil, though, Hunter. Let's just find the damn ruby and get out of here."

"Yeah, you got a deal there, sweetheart." He rose, pulling her with him and taking back the canteen to screw on the top, throwing the strap over his head. "Where do we start to look?"

"Right there," Angel said, pointing at the statue that still stood at the end of the altar. The stone was in its hands, covered in cave dust, no longer looking shiny and blood red as it had in her hallucination, if that is what it was.

Hunter walked up to the ruby, rubbing his hand over its surface. He pointed his light down on it, marveling at the color and clarity of the stone, and at its size. It had to be as big as his fist. It was clasped tightly in the hands of the stone statute.

"This might take some doing," he said, staring at the stone fingers.

"No, just go around to the other side of the altar, there are finger holes. Press your hand against them and the hands should open." She walked around herself, finding the holes and pointing them out to him. "Right there, see them?"

"Yeah, I got it. I don't want you touching that stone again." He moved to her side, pushing her back gently.

"No worries there, I don't ever want to touch that thing again." She shivered as the memory flooded her, seeing it all in her mind's eye. "It was so callous, the things they did to that girl."

"If it actually ever did happen, Angel mine, it happened four or five hundred years ago. I don't think that girl is hurting anymore." He pressed his fingers into the grooves; hearing a ratcheting click and then seeing the stone start its long roll toward the table. He grabbed it quickly, lifting the heavy piece in his hand and staring at it for a moment.

"All this trouble over a colored rock," he said softly.

The floor shifted, dirt moving slowly, sifting down from above.

"Did you feel that?" Angel asked Hunter nervously.

"Probably a mini-quake, nothing for you to worry about, Angel."

She sighed, relieved, looking around the room again. There was a deep rumble, and the floor shifted again, this time knocking over a few of the piles of treasure. Angel looked up at Hunter. "I think we should..."

"...get out of here," he finished for her, pushing her toward the crack in the wall. "Move it, Angel," he shouted as the floor started to jerk under them.

There was a crash behind them, but Angel refused to look, fear eating at her stomach at the thought of being buried alive down here. She pushed herself through the crack at record speed, ignoring the scrapes and bruises she was getting as the stones moved around here. She heard Hunter grunt and then groan and turned her head to look for him.

"Are you okay?" she shouted back, barely able to see him in the dust that swirled around them.

"Yeah," he shouted back, coughing. "Keep going, don't stop! I think this whole thing is coming down."

Angel wanted to ignore his words as she got to the end of the crack. She desperately wanted to wait for him, but the way the earth was moving around them changed her mind. She turned, sprinting towards the small tunnel set up in the wall, jumping over rocks and skirting a huge hole that seemed almost like a mouth, wanting to draw her in.

She reached the wall where the tunnel was and went to jump, trying to reach for the edge. Suddenly there was a hand on her ass, boosting her up and almost tossing her into the tunnel. She looked back quickly, seeing Hunter, his face bruised and scraped, bloody, his helmet dented and his light gone.

But he was alive.

"Go," he ordered her, climbing quickly up after her and pushing his body into the tunnel as soon as she'd moved forward. "Go! Don't look back!"

She squirmed and clawed her way through the tunnel breathing a huge sigh of relief when the cave ceiling started to rise, allowing her to first go to her hands and knees and then to her feet, running with her head bent down to avoid the low hanging rocks. When she could stand, she looked back, fearing the worst.

But he was there, coming onto his feet finally, blood dripping from a wound on his head. His pack was gone, left down in the cavern, buried now beneath a mountain of rubble. He was alive!

"Oh God, Hunter, I thought we were both dead," she whispered, barely able to speak. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, baby. But I think we should keep moving."

"What about the ruby? Do you still have the ruby?"

He stuck his hand into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, pulling out the softly gleaming stone. "Yeah, I wasn't going to lose this."

They walked the rest of the way out of the cave without speaking, coughing mostly, and holding on to each other until they got to the final crack that would bring them out of the mine. Angel slipped in first, feeling the cool brush of fresh air blow over her face with a relief she'd never expected to feel.

She pushed herself the last couple of feet through, stepping into the sunshine and closing her eyes against the brightness of it.

"Hello, my dear," Sebastian said, his hand grabbing her arm before she could even think of running, pulling her close to him, the muzzle of his pistol pushing against her scalp. "Quiet now, I wouldn't want you to ruin the surprise."