“Gak! You taste terrible!” The unknown voice penetrated the fog that had settled around Farkas’ brain, as he clawed his way back to consciousness from a sleep that felt drugged. “What in Oblivion has Janshir been feeding you?”
“Who are you?” Farkas asked, trying to focus and failing.
“I’m Babette. I thought Janshir would have told you about me.” Her features finally converged at the centre of his vision. Babette was a child, a girl, although neither fact explained what she was doing in his cell.
“Why are you here?”
“Would have thought that was obvious,” she said, lifting her lips in a sneer that revealed fangs. “I’m hungry.”
Farkas reacted instantaneously, flying from his bed in an attempt to get as far from her as the cell walls would let him. He stood defensively in the corner, his nakedness emphasising his vulnerability.
“You’ve been feeding on me?”
“I tried, but to be honest, you taste like shit. I haven’t tasted anything that bad since the famines after the Oblivion Crisis, when everyone was half starved.” She looked him over, appraising him. “Are they giving you food?”
“Bread and cheese. Every day.”
“A bit bland, but it doesn’t explain…” Recognition dawned in her eyes. “You’re not eating it. How long?”
Farkas slumped against the wall. For the first time since he arrived, he felt utterly defeated. Denial was pointless. "About a week and a half,” he said. “Are you going to tell him?”
“Depends,” she said.
“On what?”
“I know why Janshir is keeping you here. I’m hungry for other things too.”
Awareness and revulsion flooded through him. In spite of his best efforts, he could not keep some of the aversion from his voice. “I don’t fuck women or girls. I never have.”
“Then I can be your first. I’ve always liked virgins.”
“No.”
“Janshir will kill you if I tell him.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment. “Or he’ll find a way to keep you alive…”
“I can’t do it.”
“I can help.”
Babette’s hand crept between his legs, fondling his scrotum. Fingers stroked his nipples. Although he knew that Babette had to be over 300 years old, these were still a child’s hands. A female child’s hands. An undead female child’s hands. Farkas stood rigid with shock, wishing he could draw his genitals up inside his body. Finally finding his wits, he tore himself away from her caresses. Overcome with a crawling, creeping horror, he reacted primally, beyond reason, knocking her into the wall of his cell.
“Leave me alone!”
Babette picked herself up from the floor. Wiping a dribble of blood from her nose, she studied it on her hand, before licking it off. Farkas expected a reaction, but not the predatory calm that settled over her. She turned to leave.
“Very nice to have met you,” she said. “I do hope you have a long and healthy life.”
Forfeit (part 10)
“Who are you?” Farkas asked, trying to focus and failing.
“I’m Babette. I thought Janshir would have told you about me.” Her features finally converged at the centre of his vision. Babette was a child, a girl, although neither fact explained what she was doing in his cell.
“Why are you here?”
“Would have thought that was obvious,” she said, lifting her lips in a sneer that revealed fangs. “I’m hungry.”
Farkas reacted instantaneously, flying from his bed in an attempt to get as far from her as the cell walls would let him. He stood defensively in the corner, his nakedness emphasising his vulnerability.
“You’ve been feeding on me?”
“I tried, but to be honest, you taste like shit. I haven’t tasted anything that bad since the famines after the Oblivion Crisis, when everyone was half starved.” She looked him over, appraising him. “Are they giving you food?”
“Bread and cheese. Every day.”
“A bit bland, but it doesn’t explain…” Recognition dawned in her eyes. “You’re not eating it. How long?”
Farkas slumped against the wall. For the first time since he arrived, he felt utterly defeated. Denial was pointless. "About a week and a half,” he said. “Are you going to tell him?”
“Depends,” she said.
“On what?”
“I know why Janshir is keeping you here. I’m hungry for other things too.”
Awareness and revulsion flooded through him. In spite of his best efforts, he could not keep some of the aversion from his voice. “I don’t fuck women or girls. I never have.”
“Then I can be your first. I’ve always liked virgins.”
“No.”
“Janshir will kill you if I tell him.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment. “Or he’ll find a way to keep you alive…”
“I can’t do it.”
“I can help.”
Babette’s hand crept between his legs, fondling his scrotum. Fingers stroked his nipples. Although he knew that Babette had to be over 300 years old, these were still a child’s hands. A female child’s hands. An undead female child’s hands. Farkas stood rigid with shock, wishing he could draw his genitals up inside his body. Finally finding his wits, he tore himself away from her caresses. Overcome with a crawling, creeping horror, he reacted primally, beyond reason, knocking her into the wall of his cell.
“Leave me alone!”
Babette picked herself up from the floor. Wiping a dribble of blood from her nose, she studied it on her hand, before licking it off. Farkas expected a reaction, but not the predatory calm that settled over her. She turned to leave.
“Very nice to have met you,” she said. “I do hope you have a long and healthy life.”