Bewildering Stories

Change the text color to :
White   Purple   Dark Red   Red   Green   Cyan   Blue   Navy   Black
Change the background color to :
White   Beige   Light Yellow   Light Grey   Aqua   Midnight Blue

I Get My Caresses
from the Blood of My Victims

by Rachel Parsons

Table of Contents
Part 3 appears
in this issue.


Finding Priscilla Montgomery turned out to be easy, now that we knew she wasn’t a tourist. I contacted the Terrans, who now have a consulate in New Dyved. Their Government still denies the existence of magic, but its ambassadors refuse to live in any near proximity to New Fairy. Magic exists everywhere in the world, of course, but they still feel safer in New Dyved, where it had once been banned by my wonderful ex-fiancé, Farrell.

The Terrans have files on all their people; their people get shot by cameras at least eight times a day. I trembled when I heard that, knowing how a Terran camera had been used to capture my humiliation, and Ferrell had had it sent to my father.

Getting her was also no trouble. They made the poor girl take off work, which resulted in her being fired from her job. Women on Terra, when their men abandon them, don’t have to be prostitutes, but her job was menial, and it was the only thing she had, now that her man was gone. But they said that she wanted to come, to find out what had happened to her beloved James.

She would come, and she could have his body, now that I had reattached his head to it, but I was determined she would never know the truth about her man. I know what it is like, after all, to have my shame exposed to the whole world.

But I was too late. Goewyn had met her on the way to the reception hall. Dear, sweet, insensitive, stupid Goewyn. She spilled the beans, as I believe the Terrans say. I heard Priscilla’s shrieks all the way down in the reception area.

“It’s not true. It can’t be true!” The short, dark red haired woman, with breasts almost my size, was tearing at her clothes, renting her blouse and exposing that undergarment Terran women wear on their breasts. I always wince when I see a bra, as it looks like an implement of torture some man had placed there.

But real torture was what had just happened to Priscilla. Goewyn confessed that she had told James’ story. I was astounded.

“How could you not know that would be hurtful?”

“It never crossed my mind, Rhiannon. You have such equanimity about your having been a whore that it never occurred to me to hide James’ situation.”

“Except that James was a sex slave, not a whore. And that I lived through it and got to face my loved ones; explain myself. And... oh, never mind. Just go, Goewyn.” My hands quivered uselessly around the distraught girl, but I finally managed to get her to the reception area, and had Rosalyn pour her a drink.

After almost finishing a fifth of my finest whiskey, she finally was calm enough to take in what Goewyn had said and her surroundings. She blinked when she finally realized I was naked.

“Tell me again what happened to James,” she sniffed.

“I’m sure he put up a valiant fight, but he was captured by the queen of the land of women, and they tortured him and mistreated him until all he could do was their bidding. But his friend Franklin said his love for you was great. His last words were that, given his disgrace, he wasn’t worthy to have you.” I left out the parts about eating feces, and having to call them by her name.

“Oh, that monstrous bitch. Where is she? Can I kill her?”

“It’s already been done. She wanted to hunt James and Franklin, but instead she was hunted by my werewolves.”

“By your what?” She rubbed her eyes with her torn blouse. “But I want to hurt somebody over this. I want to hurt somebody!” She pounded her fists against the couch on which she was sitting.

“Maybe she can join us in our war of liberation,” Rosalyn suggested.

“On your what?” She was in danger of being in perpetual confusion, given her grief, her anger, and for her, her strange surroundings.

“Rosalyn, you and your big mouth. Is everyone going to blab today?”

“But she did blab. Are there others like James? Being held by these evil women?”

“Yes, possibly thousands.”

“Then, yes, I want to join you. I was fired from my job to come here. I’ve lost my job and my James, and I want to take it out on those responsible. You have to let me go with you.”

“Then, I guess I will.” Why not? I also knew of the urge to take vengeance when your life had been taken away from you and you get a chance to get even.

“Then, that’s settled,” she said in an incongruously light tone. I knew of false calmness and the rage beneath it too.

She stopped sniffing. “I am sorry I’ve been such a nuisance, getting you out of your bath, or whatever it is you were doing because of my shrieking. But I was just so upset.”

“I was just waiting for you; that’s all. You didn’t disturb me.”

“Oh. But then why are you naked?”

Rosalyn shared a ‘here we go again’ expression.

“We’ll discuss that later. If you are to come with me to free the men, you are going to have to be trained. Rosalyn here will deliver you to your trainer.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“You’re not backing off, are you?”

“No, no, I’ll do anything for James. After I see his body, I will want to see the bodies of those who disgraced him. What they did doesn’t affect my love for him.” Rosalyn led her away, making me wonder when I’ll hear those words directed at me.

But that doesn’t matter now. I have another war to plan. I am about to extend my power fifty miles to the north. That is nothing like a caress of a loved one when you are alone and naked and afraid, but it will have to do.

I get my caresses from the blood of my victims. I will have to be content with that.

Copyright © 2005 by Rachel Parsons

Home Page