Logan sat on the bed, in the private room provided for his comfort and convenience, and stared out the window. Three months ago he had dreamed of the unimaginable luxury of a real bed to sleep on. A clean shirt and trousers had been provided for his comfort as well as a porcelain basin for washing up and candles for light. There were even a mirror and a working clock on the wall.

None of it meant a damned thing to him. How could it, knowing Beauty was suffering less than two hundred feet away?

"I hate this plan."

"It’s your plan," Coyote replied in his mind.

"I know. That's why I hate it. "

"You need to calm yourself. Anger will only lead to mistakes."

"I am calm!"

Coyote did not bother to argue further and not just because the distance was making mental communication difficult. There was no point. They both knew Logan was furious at the cruelty he had been forced to participate in, but it wasn’t just that. Logan could keep his outrage in check for the sake of the mission.

It was the copper taste of fear in his mouth that he didn’t want to admit to. Fear for Beauty and Coyote, locked into cages, completely at the mercy of their enemies, and risking everything for his stupid plan. And something deeper that he did not want to admit, even to himself.

Baroness Graveek was terrifying.

She was like nothing he had ever imagined. Logan had grown up reading and watching science fiction. Countless tales of ancient monsters and ageless vampires had done nothing to prepare him for meeting one face-to-face.

Before today, “Elder demon” had just been a vague description. No longer. He had looked into her silver eyes and sensed the slow crawl of years come and gone. A dozen lifetimes lived. A thousand schemes planned and executed. An eternity at her fingertips to perfect her own brand of pure, perfect evil.

What possible threat was one twenty-nine-year-old professional soldier compared to that?

A man is not brave because he knows no fear. A man is brave because he is wise enough to recognize fear and do what is needed and right in spite of it. Those were his grandfather’s words to him, a memory of…

His last day on Earth. The day his grandfather died.

The scent in the room is sharp and sour, disinfectant, and an old man’s illness. He holds his grandfather’s hand at his bedside. The skin beneath Logan’s fingers is loose and paper-thin. Long, iron-gray hair lays against the white pillow cover. Grandfather’s face is thin and sunken, crosshatched with deep wrinkles. Only in his dark eyes does Logan see the reflection of the great man he knows and loves.

Grandfather has sent everyone else away, even his reluctant and unhappy wife. They are alone.

“Do not grieve, my boy. I go to my ancestors and will be at peace.”

Logan nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

He feels the old man gently squeeze his hand. “Before I go, I want you to know that I am proud of the man you have become. There has always been much anger in you but you have mastered it. Your spirit is strong. Hold on to that.”

“I will.” Logan hears himself manage to say.

“A time may come when your resolve will be tested. When or how I have never known. I only know that I have always felt a presence hiding in your shadow. Should such a day come, I am certain you will face it with heart and courage.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan replies.

Grandfather offers a sad smile. “Neither do I, my boy. I have no easy answer for you. But remember that your ancestors and the great spirits of your people watch over you.”

“Grandfather…” Logan sighs, unable to say what has been said many times.

The old man grins. “I know you don’t believe. That’s ok, my boy. I believe for you.”

Someone knocked on his door. A woman’s soft voice spoke up. “Mr. Denke, the Baroness has invited you to a celebration of your victory to begin at the stroke of midnight. She suggests you get your rest now. Shall I return to wake you in time to be ready?”

“Yes.” He felt a shiver of foreboding crawl down his spine. "That sounds ominous."

"It does." Coyotes agreed. "I suggest you take the advice to rest while you can. You will need to be at your strongest for whatever lays ahead."

Logan tried. After so long in the cavern, the bed was far too soft for comfort. When he finally fell asleep, dark dreams of Beauty in peril crawled through his dreams.

He sat up abruptly at the first knock on his door, heart pounding in his chest.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Mr. Denke? Please be in the main hall in thirty minutes. Fresh clothes are outside your door.”

“Yeah,” he called out and rubbed at his tired eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, he was as ready as he was going to get. A quick check in the mirror confirmed that the provided clothes did not quite fit. Black pants and a black, leather vest chased in scarlet thread clung to his body like a second skin. He wondered if that had been a deliberate choice by his demonic hostess.

“Nice look, Captain Tightpants,” he told his unhappy reflection.

Last but not least, he slid his only remaining weapon back into his boot. A dagger blade snapped in half with the hilt and handle removed would not have been his preferred choice but, in a pinch, it would make for an effective punching blade. It was better than nothing until he could reclaim the gear de Sade had taken away “for safekeeping”.

Logan began making his way to the great hall. Another door on this level of the keep caught his attention. Unlike the rest, this one had a sliding viewport and a security bar, both on the outside.

Locking someone in.

A quick glance around revealed no one else in the hall around him. He reached up to slide the viewport open and take a look inside to the sound of steady, rhythmic breathing.

At first, he saw only an empty, richly decorated bedroom, like his own, before movement caught his eye. Logan looked down at a pair of athletic legs and a well-shaped, and very naked, female behind, rising and falling at a steady pace on the floor. Muscle rolled beneath the pale skin of a strong, feminine back and the shoulder-length fall of a thick braid of auburn hair. Biceps flexed as the woman continued easily through a series of push-ups.

Perhaps he made a noise because, after a moment, the woman paused to look back over her shoulder. She frowned, rose to her feet with easy grace, and turned to face him, placing her hands on her hips in a defiant pose. It put all of her lean muscle, dark pubes, and generous curves on full display. If her nudity bothered her at all, she gave no indication. Blue eyes stared back at him.

Amazon. It was the first word to pop into his mind, followed immediately by a word an old army buddy was fond of, thicc. She certainly qualified as both with rounded hips, strong legs, a trim waist, a six-pack belly, and large, glorious breasts. The woman was undeniable beautiful, but in the same way that a sword would be; a hard shine with a sharp edge.

“Come by for a peek?” she sneered. “Why don’t you come in for a closer look?” Her stance made it clear the invitation was for something far more painful than sexual.

“Ah, sorry.” Logan stammered. “I wasn’t excepting… I apologize. I’ll go now.”

“Wait!” she called and took a step toward him. “You’re not one of Graveek’s regulars. Who are you?”

Logan turned back and smiled though she could not see it through the narrow slot in the door. “How do you know I’m not?”

The woman arched a dark eyebrow at him. “Graveek's people are not big on apologies.”

“Fair point,” Logan replied. “My name is… Karl Denke.”

“And are you also a prisoner, Karl Denke?” she asked.

Logan thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know yet.”

“Wise answer.” She nodded. “Whatever freedom you think you have on that side of the door are almost certainly a lie.”

“Thanks for the warning. What's your name?”

“Boudica.” Her chin rose and her blue eyes flashed. “Warrior Queen of the Iceni people.”

“I thought you might be,” Logan said. He looked past her at the luxuries on display and thought about Beauty in that horrible cage. “Though I didn’t think to find you in such comfortable surroundings.”

She sneered. “The Baroness thinks herself quite clever and hopes that comforts will break my defiance where punishment by others has failed to do so, but a golden cage is still a cage.” Her brow wrinkled as his words sank in. “How do you claim to know me?”

“I don’t,” he replied with another look around to make sure they were still alone. “I’m here to rescue you.”

A moment of silence passed then she burst into laughter. “By the gods, has the Baroness grown so desperate as to try such a ploy? Return to your Mistress, dog, and tell her I’ll not fall for it!”

“Right,” Logan muttered.

He could hardly blame her for being suspicious. He needed a way to convince her but time was not on his side. Any moment now, someone would notice his absence and come looking for him. Only one desperate idea came to mind.

Logan reached down into his boot, pulled out the knife, and dropped it through the view slot. She looked down at it on the floor and up at him with a stunned expression.

“Be ready,” he said. “Things are going to get very nasty, very quickly.” He shut the slide without waiting for a response and started walking just in time as a servant stepped out of the stairwell.

“Ah, there you are, Mr. Denke. Please hurry. The Baroness does not like to be kept waiting.”

Logan nodded and fell in behind the young woman. She was quite pretty in a demure sort of way. Mahogany colored hair spilled down a slim back. Naked legs flashed through a short skirt split high up on her thighs as she walked. Her face was all but hidden beneath a cloth cap and a constant habit of staring at the floor.

“You’re the one who was outside my door and brought me clean clothes.”

She nodded without slowing or looking up from the floor. “Yes, Mr. Denke.”

“What’s your name?”

Despite his friendly tone, the woman stumbled at his question. She finally looked up with confused, frightened, hazel eyes. “Amber,” she all but whispered.

My God, has no one ever said a kind word to this woman? Logan felt immense pity for her but the soldier in him sensed a crack in Graveek’s defenses.

“It’s ok,” he smiled and reached out to steady her. “I justed wanted to say thank you.”

He watched her eyes slide back down to stare at the floor but not before catching the slight blush on her pale cheeks. Se only nodded and started walking again.

Maybe, he thought. Just maybe.

*****

The prison level was silent but far from peaceful. Tension hung thick in the still air with unspoken despair, anger and gleeful hate. Beauty could see it in the haunted eyes of the damned souls caged around her as they glared at her. She simply watched them back, calm with a hunter’s patience, bending and stretching as best she could despite the discomfort of metal bars pressing in on all sides.

A dark skinned, bald man finally broke the silence with poisoned words. “I can go to my fate content, now that I have finally seen one of them caged like an animal.”

A rumble of agreement floated up from the other cages. When it had settled down, Beauty spoke.

“Not caged long. My friend free me.”

The man laughed. It was a bitter, hopeless sound. “Demons don’t have friends, bitch.”

A woman with pale skin and tangled auburn hair spoke to him. “You know the monster is right. Her kind will never stand for her to be treated like a lowly human.”

“Friend is lover. Friend is human. Will free me… and you.”

A new and sudden silence fell over the room. The humans looked at her and at each other with wide, uncomprehending eyes. Beauty resumed her moving around within her tiny cell to keep her muscles loose and ready.

“Confinement has driven you mad, demon.” The man scoffed.

She shrugged. “You see soon. Be ready.”

“For what?” the woman asked.

Beauty paused to look around the room at each of them. “To fight back. All free when Graveek dies.”