Bound By Fate: A Novel of the Strong (11 page)

When the two daemons had shown up, she had also felt Toran's instinctive urge to protect her. The heat of his venna flowing between them had calmed her heart, feeding her, giving her strength.

That meant something.
 

So, encouraged by the difference a night had made, Liv hadn’t wanted to leave Toran's side.
 

Unfortunately, the other two daemons’ oppressive presence overpowered any thoughts of staying. While today Toran’s uncle had held his emotions close to his vest, there was no doubting his was the evil energy she had sensed when she had first found herself in Toran's room.
 

In the Elder’s case, his aura had reeked of depravity.

Neither were to be trusted.
 

Just as Toran had stepped up to shield her from Diogo’s malevolent gaze, Liv too felt an instinctive need to protect him, to speak up about her concerns, to explain to him her ability to sense…

She gasped.

Liv doubled over and retched, her stomach revolting at the fetid stench of despair that clung like garbage to the village she used to call home.

Covering her mouth and nose with her hand, she blinked back the sting of tears as she took in the devastation before her.

Physically, the village had changed little since the night Liv had been spirited off the plane.
 

Small, quaint thatch-roofed cottages still lined the narrow cobblestone streets. But gone were the pleasant shops and easy-going denizens. Gone, too, were the bustling sounds of commerce and the welcoming air of a vibrant community.

Now, it was practically a ghost town. Its quaintness belied its very feel, which was mean and sinister––and sadly defeated.
 

The Elden who were out on the street eyed her with sullen suspicion wrapped in apathetic savagery. It was as if they yearned to do her harm… if they could just summon up the motivation to do so.

Goosebumps erupted across her skin.

As she turned to flee, Liv was shocked to see a spark of life in the form of a young daemon boy running her way. The child, who looked to be no more than five years old, ran on happy legs, giggles streaming from his mouth. A few yards behind him, a young daemoness followed in dogged pursuit.

“Where do you think you’re going, Josea?” She yelled in his direction, no venom in her voice. “Come back here, you little monster.” Seeing Liv down the way, she stopped and waved. “Hey there, can you grab him for me please?”

Eager to help, Liv moved quickly into the path of the fugitive, corralling him in her legs.
 

Out of breath, the female caught up with them. Reaching down, she hoisted the boy into her arms. She was strikingly beautiful, tall and statuesque with deep chestnut hair highlighted with just a touch of auburn. Heavy bangs draped across her forehead as straight, longer locks fell just past her shoulders. Strong boned but exquisitely feminine, she had stunning sapphire eyes that flashed with humor.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile. Turning to the boy, she said, “Josea, you can’t just take off whenever you please. I know you’re a big boy but you can’t play in the street! Let’s get you home.” The child continued to squirm, now laughing as she tickled him.
 

“He’s adorable,” Liv said. Still locked tight in the potent grip of Toran's venna, Liv took the child’s small hand in hers, reveling in the feel of his baby-soft skin. “Is he yours?”

“No, this little guy doesn’t belong to me. I’m his doctor.”

“His doctor?” Liv asked. “Is he sick?”

“No, he’s fine. The others were busy with the other kids, so I figured I’d better grab him before he escaped off the ‘el entirely.” The daemoness smiled again. “I’m Anara. I run the hospital here in Venn Dom.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Liv.”

“You’re Toran's faine, right?”

Though she blushed, Liv nodded.

“Well, Liv,” Anara said with a warm smile, “welcome back to Venn Dom. I’m happy for you both.”

Liv blushed again.

Her smile leaving her face, Anara glanced up and down the road. “Look,” she said, “I’m not sure you should be wandering around here alone.” Hitching the boy higher on her hip, she gave a nod in the direction she’d come from. “Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll give you the lay of the land?”

And, just like that, Liv found herself walking beside the doctor.

“I can’t believe how much this place has changed,” Liv said. Though she’d been gone nearly six hundred years, time passed slowly in the Mythos. It would have taken a near-cataclysmic rift in the status quo to give rise to such devastating decay.

“I was born a couple of decades after the Cleansing ended.” Anara shrugged, confirming Liv’s suspicion. “I hear it used to be nice.”

“It was,” Liv answered, “once upon a time.”

“You know,” the doctor said after a moment, “I’ve never known a Venn Dom other than the one that exists today.”

Liv said nothing as they walked along the path.

“Look, I know I’m being nosy, but I can’t help it.” Anara swept out a hand with a shrug. “I have to know… how did you survive on the human ‘el? Without exposure to the venna?”

“I don’t know if you’d call it surviving,” Liv replied, not minding the female’s curiosity. She had questions of her own. “I got by. At the end, before I was found, I worked at a mixed martial arts gym as a massage therapist.”

Anara looked her over with an appraising eye.
 

“That’s a very smart coping strategy for dealing with your acute neuropathy.”

“Acute neuropathy?” Liv had never heard her condition described as such. “Is that what’s wrong with me?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it ‘wrong’ because it’s simply a condition caused by lack of adequate nourishment,” Anara answered. “But, yes, I believe your inability to process touch is a dysfunction in your peripheral nerves, which causes the acute numbness.”

Anara was certainly correct about the numbness.
 

“I’m assuming you were able to feed off of the energy of mortals more efficiently through physical contact, thus allowing you to maintain some semblance of tactile sensation, not to mention your consciousness.”

Once again, Anara was correct.

“Can I ask you another question?” Anara glanced in Liv’s direction.
 

“Sure.”

“How did you escape from here?”

“To be honest,” said Liv, “I don’t remember much.” Just barely fourteen years old and terrified of the utter chaos around her, Liv had lived in hiding from the moment the Cleansing began. She had been passed from one faine family to the next until, one day not too long after hearing of her mother’s death, she had been taken from her bed in the dead of night. The only thing Liv remembered clearly was a barrage of emotions from the confused and conflicted spirit who had delivered her out of Venn Dom.

“You’ve probably blocked most of it out,” Anara said quietly. “I’m sure all of it was quite traumatic.”

“It was,” Liv agreed.

“Perhaps someday your memory will return.”

“Perhaps.”

They walked in silence up to an enormous brick structure surrounded by a low rock wall. The building was painted a soft yellow and featured two rows of white-curtained windows. Despite its cheery facade, a sense of sadness draped it like a veil.
 

Liv could hear the sound of children playing.
 

“Is this a school?” she asked, grateful for a change of topic. She didn’t remember this place at all from her youth. It was definitely new.

“It’s a school of sorts,” said Anara, nodding towards the building. Once they passed through the gate, she set Josea on the ground. The child immediately ran off to join in play. “Today is my outpatient clinic day at the orphanage.”
 

“Orphanage?” Liv stole a look in Anara’s direction. “It’s big. How many children live here?”

“Too many,” Anara replied. “One hundred and eleven as of last night. Luckily Vimora females aren’t particularly fertile, or there would be a hell of a lot more.”

Liv crinkled her nose. “What do you mean?”

“Vimora females can only conceive during a very brief timespan––just about an hour, in fact––once every twenty or so years,” Anara answered with clinical precision. “Though, during that magical hour, there’s about a hundred percent chance a Vimora’s seed will take.”

“No, I mean,” Liv interrupted, waving Anara’s explanation off with a blush, “I mean, why would there be more orphans if the Vimora procreated more?”

“Ah, that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Why do fathers abandon the home? Why do mothers give up their children?” She shrugged. “Here in Venn Dom, we have it all. Abuse, neglect… abandonment if they’re lucky. These kids have never had a chance.”

They stood facing the building in silence.

After a while, Anara continued softly, “You’ve been through the village. You can’t help but feel the despair since…”

“…since the loss of the faine,” whispered Liv.

“Yes,” Anara answered. “It’s quite a mess we’ve found ourselves in––all due to a misplaced hatred, not to mention a heaping dose of ignorance thrown in for good measure. Now, it’s the children who suffer.” She paused as if shivering back a memory. Liv could feel the doctor’s sadness, her anger, her kind heart struggling to forgive and forget.

“There are just not enough stable families to take these kids in. Thus, the orphanage.” Anara paused again. “Or, at least,
now
there’s the orphanage. The problem used to be much, much worse.”

“When was it built?”
 

“Oh, it’s been about three hundred years now. It was quite the battle getting it built. You wouldn’t think it would have been, but it was.”

“Why?” Liv asked with surprise.

“The Elden refused the funds.”

“The Elden? Why?”

“Why did they refuse the funds? Who knows,” she answered. “Since the king passed, Venn Dom has had no proper government, no true leadership. It’s supposedly ruled by a council of two, but the two involved are nothing but greedy fools. They provide for nothing. Neither they nor the Elden care about what goes on here, how these children have no futures.”

“So, who built it?”

“Ah, so you don’t know?” Anara asked with a sad little smile. “The Tenn pays for everything. Toran’s our biggest benefactor… despite not yet being king.”

As Liv quietly contemplated Anara’s answer, the doctor prodded her forward.
 

“Here, come this way. I’d like to show you something.”

“Excuse me, Master, but someone is here to see you.”

Merus looked up from his work to see the barely-dressed slave standing before him, her chin tucked deep in submission.

His eyes flashed a darker blue.

“Send them away.” Pleased, he watched as her body trembled beneath the weight of his command. But instead of obeying, she kept her eyes low and stammered to say, “It’s the Tenn, Master. He’s waiting for you outside.” She dropped her head lower. “He refuses to come in.”

Running his fingers down the torso of the female he had splayed out upon his rack, Merus squinted into the distance and said to no one in particular, “Well, fuck me.”

The female whimpered and strained against her bonds.

“Shh,” he leaned down to croon in her ear. Without lifting his head, Merus dismissed the slave with orders to tell his cousin he’d join him shortly.

Before he released his ward, Merus allowed his gaze to trace the contours of her long ebony frame, self-satisfied with her state of utter submission.
 

Unbidden, his eyelids slid closed.

A vision of the flame-haired witch flashed in his mind, her yellow eyes dazed with desire, the sinuous strength of her alabaster body straining beneath his own.
 

A sizzling burn flared hard at the base of his gut.

Merus pulled away to face the window, the smoky darkness of the morning pressing against the panes. Lacing his fingers atop his head, he grimaced at the unwelcome need.

He simply did not allow himself to become excited––certainly not here in his workshop. And most certainly not in the presence of the females–and occasional males––who found themselves begging for his talents on his rack.

Yet here he was, pretty damn close to a full-blown erection.

That witch had better fucking show up tomorrow,
he thought as he wrestled his wayward urges back under control. When he was certain he had everything locked down tight, Merus turned and stepped closer to the female, the beads of sweat adorning her skin glinting in the candlelight. He placed a calming hand on her forehead just above the blindfold.
 

“I’m going to let go of you now,” he said at her ear.

She licked her lips.
 

“But you’re not done. Not yet.” Merus could still feel her need for more, her soul crying out to be soothed by the blissful diversion only sweet pain could deliver. “You will lie here like a good girl and take the rest,” he murmured. She’d get her orgasm soon enough, though not by his hand.
Never by his hand.
“You’ll do that for me, yeah?”

The female nodded as she let out a long, agonized moan.

Releasing the mystical bonds he held tightly with his mind, Merus watched as her limbs sagged against the wood.

He jerked his chin at the male who was watching from off in the corner. “You got this, Rhed?” he called. Nodding, the rock daemon stepped forward to take the crop Merus wielded in his hand.

“When she’s done, bring her down easier this time,” Merus growled, “or I’ll have your hide next.”
 

Pulling on a shirt, Merus walked away to meet his cousin.

Outside the village of Vimora, Liv followed Anara around the orphanage’s main building where they climbed a metal stairway to a platform that overlooked a large grassy field. It was surrounded by a twenty-foot-tall fence. Though the fence was topped with razor wire, it was also alive with magic.

“What is this?” she asked.

“Take a look,” Anara answered.

Peering over the railing, Liv was shocked to find fifteen or so young daemon boys milling about in wary aggression, each caged in individual invisible pens, separated by magic.