Alan Troop: The Dragon DelaSangre

"We just don't have the right weapons," he says, smirking. "I know where we can get them."

"Let's just leave," Casey says again.

"You forget the dogs," Santos says. "We'll have to do something about them too. Kill them all."

"How?"

"Some help wouldn't hurt," Santos says. He looks around the room, points when he sees my cell phone. "Casey, honey, please get that for me."

He looks into my face as he dials the phone. "Oh," he says, "I guess when we talked about the note, I neglected to tell you one thing-I remembered the number after all." Then he walks away, says into the mouthpiece, "This is Santos, I'm calling about Peter DelaSangre…"

His voice drops and no matter how I strain, I can't hear any more of the conversation.

Later, they help me up and lead me out of the room to the spiral staircase. To my surprise, I shuffle forward on command and continue moving as long as I receive constant attention. Jorge provides this, prodding me along the way with the cutlass. "I should just push you down the stairs, you evil bastard," he mutters in my ear.

Casey shushes him. "We don't want to wake the bitch up," she whispers and we proceed past the second floor in silence.

I try to call to Elizabeth, but can't form any sounds. I attempt to mindspeak to her, but the thoughts escape me. I lose track of where we are, only regain awareness when Santos slaps my face.

"Get in the cell!" He guides me forward, but Casey grabs my arm.

"Not mine," she says. "It's too large and comfortable for him." She pulls on me, makes me walk farther. She stops, points. "This one, it's smaller."

"Fine," Santos says. He shoves me, knocking me to the stone floor next to the cot. The Cuban holds me down while Casey rifles through my pockets and produces my keys. I pay no attention to the clank and jangle of chains and manacles as they undo their fetters and bind me in them.

Jorge slaps me again. I realize I'm on the cot-my neck, my wrists, my ankles chained. I make no effort to test my fetters. The Dragon's Tear wine shackles me more completely than they ever could.

Casey Morton looks down at me, spits in my face. "I hate you!" she says. She begins to cry and pummels my face with her fists, striking again and again, saying, "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

Jorge pulls her back. "Casey, honey, stop," he says. "We don't know how long we have until the wine wears off. Let's get what we need from the arms room and finish these creatures off."

"How can we get through the door? You told me yourself, there's no visible lock. No way you can see to release the crossbeam."

"That was before." Santos beams. He puts his face to the bars, directs his words at me. "Today, when we were firing the cannon I finally had a chance to examine the mechanism." He clangs the cutlass blade against the steel bars. "There's a release lever that can be reached through a crack in the stone. You just need something skinny and strong to reach it." Santos laughs, thrusts the cutlass through the bars. "This will do, I think."

They turn off all lights on the floor, leaving me in total darkness. Without the slightest glimmer of light, even I can't see through the blackness. I'm tempted to sleep, but I fight the impulse. Elizabeth is in danger. I concentrate on reaching her. To my amazement, I do, finding myself in her dreams, her mind more open to me than any day since our wedding. The Dragon's Tear wine, I think. I try to call her name, but can't form the word.

Dogs bark outside. I hear them with her, see her room as she does as she blinks her eyes open. I feel her confusion too as we hear the sound of metal scraping stone, the metallic click of the crossbeam lever releasing, the groan of the arms door being yanked open, the clank of heavy objects being moved on the veranda.

"Peter?" Elizabeth mindspeaks. "I hear things. What is happening?"

I try to tell her. The words almost form, but slip away before they gel. "Danger," I want to say. "Save yourself."

"Why don't you answer me?" Elizabeth asks. "Peter, please!"

She rises and I watch through her eyes as she walks to the bedchamber's outside door. "No!" I imagine myself yelling, but no sound, no thought escapes me. Elizabeth opens the door and Casey Morton screams.

Elizabeth roars and I see Casey's horrified countenance just as my bride does.

"Casey! Move!" Jorge Santos shouts and the blonde jumps to one side. He lifts a massive weapon to his shoulder and aims it at Elizabeth. She stares at the barrel's black muzzle and I recognize the weapon as a rail gun. I try again to warn my bride, but she rushes forward without hearing me.

The gun explodes before her, Jorges Santos flying back from the recoil. Elizabeth screams as the ball rips through her right eye socket. Her mind goes blank.

Cut off from her, I lie motionless in the dark, alone with my thoughts. Grief engulfs me. I attempt to move, to curl into a fetal position, but even that is refused me. I can't blink an eyelid or moan. It is wrong, I think, to be denied the ability to weep.

Time passes or doesn't move at all. It's impossible for me to tell. All I know is the hard slab of the cot beneath me, the weight of my chains. I strain to see anything of my surroundings, but view only darkness. I listen, but hear only the stillness around me. I know Santos will come to kill me. The man could never leave knowing the murderer of his sister still lives.

I struggle to move, concentrate on controlling just one finger-the small one on my right hand. I will it to respond. It trembles and, if I could, I would smile. I will it to move again and it flexes. I turn my attention from finger to finger, slowly bringing each to life. My eyelids resist and then succumb to my desire to blink.

My successes make me hopeful and I try once more to mindspeak. "Elizabeth!" I call. "Elizabeth, please answer me!"

A sob escapes from my lips when I receive no reply. I lie still again, give way to the solitude of my existence.

Something… a wisp of energy… a glimmer of a thought touches me. I concentrate, try to reach out, strain to receive whatever may be out there.

"Elizabeth!" I call again.

A feeble reply brushes my consciousness. "Peter?"

I open my mind to her, attempt to merge with her, like I did before. I recoil from the pain and confusion I find, her anger as she rejects me. "Elizabeth," I mindspeak. "Please."

It takes all my energy to understand her thoughts. "Peter, where have you been?" she asks. "Where are you now?"

"Oh, Elizabeth, you can't believe how happy I am to hear you… I was afraid he killed you."

"Very nearly. He hurt me badly, Peter. Where are you? I need you. I think he and the woman are still near me. Please, Peter."

"Lie still. Don't let them know you're alive," I say. "I'm below, locked in one of the cells. At dinner they tricked me. They served me Dragon's Tear wine."

"Oh, Peter! I warned you."

" You did and you were right. But now we have to stop them."

"I'm healing quickly. It won't be long before I'm much stronger, Peter," she says. "I can hear them now. They're talking about you."

I attempt to raise my arm. It refuses to budge. I force a sigh. It seems control of my thoughts will be easier than command of my body. "Elizabeth, I'm afraid it will be awhile before I can leave my cell." The idea of leaving her alone angers me. I try again to merge with her thoughts. This time she doesn't rebuff me.

Elizabeth emits a mental gasp when I join with her. Together we listen.

"We could use more firepower," Jorge says. "They should be here soon. But for now, we need to rely on ourselves. We don't know where the woman is or how many more things like this are around. We still have to kill DelaSangre. Bring me three more rail guns and I'll load them for us."