Chapter Text
Geraldine was convinced she had died and been sent to Hell.
The sullen, sweltering heat blurred her sight. Sweat coated her skin and soaked her clothes. Sometimes she saw things - distilleries and knives and coats hanging on racks. And even larger shapes that, in her few clear moments, were covered in dusty cloth. But more often than not they stretched to infernal buildings as large as trees, reaching to infinity. Smaller containers moved like unknown inhabitants of a damned city: quickly, faceless, ignoring all her pain and suffering.
Sometimes the walls glowed with the lava of hell; or it may have just been the sunshine peeking through cracks. She saw stars flowing through space with eons of time passing. Other times they were simply dust motes settling on her body.
Her body was a microcosm of pain and suffering, layered with weakness and inability to fight back. In one ugly, but lucid moment, she saw the tube going from her arm to a blood bag and sighed.
My blood… they’re taking my blood.
Hadn’t Micolash said that? Geraldine could not remember. There was something about… blood and payment and being released, but the hunter, along with a physical weakness she had never known, had a heavy metal fog over her mind. There was so much she could be thinking about - taking in details, observing, trying to form an iota of a plan for her rescue.
Instead, all she could do was think in fragment phrases how he touched her.
No, not touched. Defiled.
Geraldine’s stomach twisted in pain, wanting to throw up but having nothing to do so - the dinner she had eaten felt so long ago. She wanted to purge his taste from her lips but had no saliva to do so.
There was nothing to do besides stare at the wood paneled wall, and replay the horrific incident over.
And over.
And over.
It was a mercy when Geraldine slept. She wanted to sleep forever.
“Ma’am? Miss Baker? Do you want some water?”
A voice pulled her from delirium. Geraldine was surprised to find herself laying down, staring at a woman’s face above her.
In front of her was .. his student? No, assistant. What was her name…?
The young woman with straight brown hair held up a cup of water.
Abigail … water…
Geraldine twitched limply away from Abigail, turning her head as much as she could. Suddenly the hunter remembered the taste of tea on her tongue - sickeningly sweet.
Abigail looked down at the water in her hand and flinched. “Oh… oh no, no this isn’t poisoned, see?” And she took a sip from the water and had the gall to offer a small smile to the prisoner.
Geraldine was ready to say no. She wanted to. Why would she take anything from these people, after she had been drugged?
But that water… oh that water. So slick and wet . She could taste it, dream it, on her lips, coating her mouth, sliding down her throat. It was life. She needed it now.
With a reluctant pause, Geraldine opened her mouth.
Abigail was so careful to pour the water bit by bit in Geraldine’s mouth. The water was merely tepid, maybe a little warm from the heat, but it was the best thing in the world. Even the grumbling in her stomach eased - just a little.
When Abigail pulled away the glass empty, Geraldine could not help but whine. It was not enough.
“What… are you doing here?” Geraldine asked, her cracked lips making it painful to speak. “Watering your … patient?”
“I’m here to collect the blood bag.” Abigail pointed up next to Geraldine. The bag was now full, almost bursting. “We had to throw out the first few samples, they were too heavily mixed with the barbiturates, we are just now getting appropriate -”
“Bar…?” Geraldine tried to ask, but the word became fuzzy in her mind and mouth.
“Barbiturates. The, ah.. sedatives.” Abigail swallowed and set to work next to Geraldine, removing the bag of blood from the hook above. Geraldine felt a pang of inexplicable loss.
That’s my blood.
The young scholar carefully labeled it before storing it in a container for transport.
“I see. Sorry to… disappoint.” Geraldine meant that to be a snide remark but she just sounded tired.
“Look, I’m sorry, we didn’t think you would need so much.”
Geraldine raised her eyebrow and stared at Abigail. “Is it we? … Is it truly we?”
The young scholar looked away, ashamed. She did not answer immediately - or rather, could not. Her voice was much quieter when she did.“ He didn’t want you to sleep. He didn’t want to give you water. Something about ‘ensuring your cooperation’. But I did it anyway. I don’t want you to get any more hurt.”
Abigail sighed and spread her hands in a pleading manner. “Please, Miss Baker. Just do what he says and he will let you go. A simple experiment, and you can leave knowing you made a difference in the scientific pursuit of the Great Ones.”
“A difference …” Geraldine started, but shook her head. Words like audacity and disbelief as well as a few coarse ones floated to her consciousness but they stayed there. Instead, the water seemed to have gathered her thoughts long enough to ask: “Make a difference now … let me go. You know this isn’t right.”
“I can’t.” Abigail said, and she spoke with sincere regret. “The professor keeps the key on him, and even if I did…”
“I would take you with me,” Geraldine started, more animated. She leaned forward slightly and felt the binds at her hands keep her from going much further. “Not to your parents, but anywhere. I don’t care if it’s across the ocean, I would make sure you got there safely. Please, Abigail –”
Geraldine felt the phantom memory of Micolash’s hand caressing her cheek and neck, and her voice wavered as she finished. “Please. You have to help me.”
Abigail stared at Geraldine, her arms hugging the box that had the blood samples in it. For a moment Geraldine thought Abigail had gotten through to her. Instead the woman blinked furiously and whispered:
“He’ll come tonight. Please remember what I said.”
Geraldine could only raise her voice in a raspy whisper as she yelled after Abigail, who had turned quickly and escaped down the elevator. The squeaking mechanics continued to mask Geraldine’s begging until she gave up, closed her eyes, and slipped back into her nightmares.
Micolash waited until he was in the storage room to whistle, even though he felt like doing so the entire day. As he taught his lectures, oversaw experiments, ate his bland meal of soup and bread, he could not stop thinking of his little redhead in the attic.
How delicious her flesh would taste while the whole of Byrgenwerth slept under them. How he would cherish each one of her little protesting sounds, as they served to highlight just how much power he had over a mighty hunter. Sure, the excuse was academic, and she would have to be studied in some part. Willem had asked for updates on his experiments, which he would have to provide. A small price to pay for a sumptuous snack. Oh how it delighted him so, keeping such a pure specimen as Geraldine Baker hidden from the world!
His whistling was out of tune but he was not surprised. He hadn't had the desire to do so for years.
As the elevator went up, he adjusted the items in his hands: a container of water and a sandwich. Not for him, of course, he had already eaten.
He was going to make Geraldine work for her food, as a good hunter should.
The elevator stopped and Micolash pushed it open with one hand. He kept whistling - a fragmented tune from his youth, half forgotten. The incompleteness of the melody didn't bother him. For the first time in a long while he was happy.
It was dark in the attic. He imagined what Geraldine must be experiencing. The cold darkness of silence and stillness, rudely interrupted by the grinding of the ancient gears. The quickening in her heart not knowing what was going to happen. Maybe she even felt a disgusting pang of desire. Desire for him.
Micolash could not restrain himself from a soft, contented sigh. "Is there nothing more beautiful than the stillness of night?" he asked the room, but really asking Geraldine, though she was still bathed in darkness. "It forces one to be contemplative… musing about the secrets of the world even as it sleeps. "
"Let me go, you jerk! " answered Geraldine.
Micolash's hand stopped over the switch to turn on the light. Hmm. What a strong protest that was. Clear and definite. He had a fighter on his hands.
He flicked on the light and the scene came into view. Geraldine closed her eyes and blinked rapidly, adjusting. She was restrained and laying there, as complacent as could be. One sleeve had been rolled up to accommodate the blood draw, but otherwise she remained in her hunter's garb.
Micolash tsked. He would have to change that but he also needed Abigail's help. But not now. This was his first time with Geraldine alone and he fully intended to enjoy himself.
He set the water and sandwich down on a table and simply spent a moment enjoying how Geraldine squirmed. Even now, after nearly a day, she pulled at her bindings. The ones he had belted himself. Mmm yes.
"I know that you may not find yourself in a situation of your choosing, but life is about making the most of the difficulties we encounter! Surely a hunter like yourself can see that."
"The most I could make of this difficulty is knocking you out when I am finally free."
Hmm. Still fighting. Perhaps she needed a reminder of her place.
Micolash stepped to Geraldine's side. She glared at him with hatred, and while he supposed that was not unusual, he had assumed that the blood draining her muscles and making her physically weak would have done a toll on her mind.
But he was not deterred. Instead he lifted a hand --
Ah. There it was. The unconscious flinch, her looking away from him. There was a chance she could be broken. His hope was renewed. He smiled.
-- and touched her hair. "What lovely red locks," he murmured approvingly. "How bright they shine, full of luster and life. You truly are the perfect specimen."
"I said let me go!"
Geraldine pulled her head as far as she could. Micolash kept his hand frozen in the air, hovering right above her. That's right. Let her try to guess what he will do next. Anticipate me . Fear me.
"Not until the experiment is completed," he reminded her gently.
"And when is that going to be? Never?"
"Only if you want it to be." Or maybe not. Micolash was quickly becoming attached to his little red-head, even if they do fight sometimes.
He went to caress her cheek, and then something totally unexpected happened. She spat at him.
"I never agreed to this! I am going to bring the entirety of Yharnam's guard force down on you and Byrgenwerth!"
Empty words that Micolash hardly heard. He even did not seem to note how incredibly heated her skin was, or how her eyes narrowed, the very epitome of defiance.
No, he saw her spit and noticed how wet it was.
Wet, for someone who had not had anything to drink for nearly a day. It should not be dripping off his fingers. She should not have anything to spit at him at all!
Unless…
Micolash's smile faded. He put his hand down and wiped the saliva on his trousers. Then he turned on his heel and walked toward the elevator.
"Hey! HEY! Get back here!" Geraldine shouted.
But Micolash's mind was already somewhere else, thinking about some one else. And how he would make them pay for interrupting his fun.
As the elevator hummed to life and went back down, he no longer wanted to whistle.
Abigail held up the flask of solution to her eye level, watching the clear liquid closely. With a cautious hand she squeezed drops from an eyedropper into the flask. There was no reaction yet, but if she was lucky, the fluid in the flask would be a dark blue like the night sky by the next day.
She was alone in the student lab, for the hour was late, nearly time for curfew. But she had to finish the set up for her experiment. She hoped to let it work overnight and view the results in the morning.
Abigail pushed a strand of brown hair behind her ear and whispered to herself as the drops hit the liquid, the loudest she dare raise her voice:
" five…six…seven… "
Behind her a floorboard creaked. The thought of suddenly not being alone squeezed Abigail's heart, sending fear through her body. She froze and tried to speak up but still stammered.
"I - I know it's time, I'm sorry, I need two more drops of this catalyst and I'll be done -"
The voice that answered brought Abigail's stomach to her feet with overwhelming dread.
"Three more, Abigail, " Micolash corrected.
She turned around quickly, but Micolash was quicker, crossing the distance between them. He loomed over Abigail, looking down at her with cold fury. Abigail held the flask and eyedropper against herself, unable to move very far or turn to set them on the table behind her.
"Professor, I-"
"Three more drops, Abigail. Two would not have provided adequate results. Four would ruin the experiment altogether." He reached for the glasses in her hands and squeezed three drops without looking and then set them both aside.
He then put his arms next to her, pressuring her, trapping her. A curling cruelness like smoke rising from a charnel house twisted his lips and his tone. He raised an eyebrow and inflected his voice as if he was innocently concerned.
"Are you distracted, Abigail?"
"N-n-no, Professor, I'm not."
"I think you are." He leaned further over her, bending her backwards, making her muscles ache.
"No, I misspoke. I know you are. I think you're forgetting things. Forgetting that I specifically forbade you from giving our friend any water or food!"
"But I didn't!"
He grabbed her wrists. Abigail could only squeak in protest. His face drew so close that their noses almost touched. She couldn't see him completely but she knew she was looking at the very face of the Devil himself. He breathed directly into her nose and mouth - hot, sulfurous, sinister.
"I see now what ails you. Yes, this disease that causes you to do naughty things, nasty things. You are… distracted. By our hunter. "
Abigail squirmed and turned her head away to his shoulder but his touch guided her back. He whispered in a lover's whisper, one that Abigail knew would demand hefty payment in return:
"I will help you. I will shock your system, purge out the wantenous toxins of her beautiful red hair on your mind. And then you and I can continue our righteous journey toward understanding the Great Ones. I will save you."
And then he reached for her tie and pulled a side free of its knot.
Abigail flailed, doing her best to turn away from him, push him away. But even with his arms busy she was much too close to him to truly get away. " No… please… not that, please… "
Her wailing trailed off and faded into oblivion. Micolash gave her a quick bemused smirk before stating gravely:
"Yes, Abigail. I must."
But Abigail was crying silent tears as Micolash finished untying her tie. Such a thin red strip, simple and plain looking, had already been used in many creative ways by the older man on the younger woman. Abigail knew that any use of that tie meant humiliation, suffering, and pain.
"I won't do it again, please no, I won't do it ever again… "
His fingertips brushed her wet cheek, causing her to look at him.
"I know you won't. That is why I must do this. Arms behind you, please."
Abigail sniffed once, blinked a few times, and placed her hands behind her back. Micolash's body pressed down on her as he reached around and tied her wrists together. Always too tight. He had such strong fingers after all.
When he was finished, he stepped away. Abigail felt like a trussed up turkey, and just as doomed.
"What are you going to do to me?" her voice a shaking whisper.
"It's more like what you are going to do for our hunter friend."
"I don't -"
But Abigail was interrupted by his hand pressing against her back, pushing her off the table. There was force behind that hand, and it caused Abigail to stumble a bit.
"Let us go visit our guest," Micolash insisted.
Another jarring push, and Abigail was made to walk out of the room, with Micolash right behind her.
As the elevator came to life, Geraldine tried to steady her nerves with several deep breaths. She did not expect him back so soon.
The steel gate opened. The light had been left on when Micolash so quickly departed so Geraldine was able to see the sight: not just him, but her, Abigail slightly ahead of him, her hands behind her back.
Geraldine had a moment to see how Abigail’s gaze stared at the floor, how stiff and frozen she seemed despite being able to move freely. But then it was Micolash’s face that filled nearly her entire vision, staring down at her features with a crazed eye.
What pity Geraldine might have had for Abigail was quickly pushed out of the way for fear.
“Your vitals are good,” noted Micolash, even as his attention moved from bit to bit of Geraldine’s face. She turned away, what little good that did to remove herself from Micolash’s piercing gaze.
“You’ve given us several pints already, which will suffice for now. Enough for preliminary studies of your blood.”
“For now?” Geraldine protested. Her hands flared in her restraints. “You haven't even said what you wanted with my blood.”
His eyebrow crooked and he paused. A bemused thought must have crossed his mind because he looked up towards Abigail, who waited quietly in the shadows, and then down to her once more. “I in fact did tell you earlier but as you were distracted, I will repeat myself once more.”
Micolash spat the word distracted like it was profane; Abigail shook so greatly that even Geraldine noticed in her peripheral vision.
Micolash’s tone trailed dangerously downward, seemingly straight into her heart, seizing it, nay, commanding it to yield to him. “Ah, but first… are you hungry?”
Geraldine knew she was at an impasse of sorts - of course she wanted food, she had not eaten since this situation started, her hunger gnawed and tore at her stomach. But she could not give in so soon, not when her body had already betrayed her once.
“No,” she said, and then shook her head to make the assertion stronger.
He waited just a moment before turning on his heel towards something in the back. His low-burning, smoke-filled indignation was stifling, like a cloud of poison filling the room. “Why does everyone keep lying? We are here for the truth - this is a place of learning - how can we expect results when we keep lying to ourselves!?”
There was the sound of cutting and whispers and the pull of flesh, the muted sound of struggling right outside the lit circle. Geraldine lifted her head up to see just in time for the ghastly sight to become apparent to her.
Micolash smiling widely. And Abigail, arms still behind her back, holding what looked like a large piece of sandwich in her mouth. The bread and meat flopped out of her, a ghastly mouth and tongue. The assistant kept her eyes to the ground.
“Abigail is such a kind soul,” Micolash crooned, even as he ran his hand down her back. She visibly shivered. “She wants to help take care of you, like a mother bird feeding its fledgling.”
A touch became a shove as Abigail was pushed right next to Geraldine, near her face. Abigail’s wide eyes said I’m sorry.
“Give her some food, Abigail,” ordered Micolash. “Give it with all the care and love I know you are capable of.”
Abigail sniffled and leaned over Geraldine’s face, so close that the food almost touched her lips.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Geraldine twisted her head away from the meat and towards Micolash. “You’re mad!”
But he didn’t answer Geraldine. Instead he traced his hand along Abigail’s shoulder and neck to the top of her head. His hand spread, the palm flat. “Feed her, Abigail.”
Abigail lowered her head, until the meat and sandwich smeared over Geraldine’s face and lips, painting her with grease. The food was nearly suffocating, covering Geraldine’s mouth and nose. Whenever she turned her head Abigail’s was there for her, as if guided by the puppetmaster Micolash. Geraldine was forced to smell the food, the delicious day old-bread, the brined ham salty scent sailing down her nostrils, filling her mind and reminding her how empty her stomach was, how desperate, how hungry she was.
She imagined her stomach climbing up into her mouth and taking a bite of the food herself; at some point Geraldine started to chew, and swallow. With each bite came a renewal of strength. With each bite came a dying of her dignity. With each bite came the awareness of small protesting whines from Abigail, and how her arms had not moved from their position behind her.
Abigail held onto the sandwich as long as she could without touching Geraldine. At the last moment she let go of the bit she was holding and lifted her head up quickly, trying to back away.
As Geraldine gnawed on the last bite, a stray piece of ham sliding down her cheek and onto her shoulder, she noticed how Micolash had grabbed Abigail so roughly and spun her around.
“No more…” Abigail wheezed, but Micolash chuckled.
“You’re not finished yet.”
“Leave her out of this!” Geraldine shouted. "Whatever issue you have with me and my blood is between US." Geraldine gestured feebly with her restrained hand but her gaze bore into Micolash's. He met her with his wavy, unconcerned smile.
"She became a 'part of this' when she went behind my back , " he snapped. "Ever since you showed up, my assistant has been lost in her own little world." He slammed his fist on a table, bringing up a puff of dust. The sound made both women jump, Abigail more so than Geraldine. "Do you know how difficult it is to ascend!? To reach understanding of the Great Ones?"
"I could care less," snapped Geraldine. His slap on her cheek did not hurt so much as surprise her with his cruelty. He bent and moved with every word, emphasizing his aggravation like a floppy toy doll held in the hands of a toddler.
"It makes our work here go from nearly improbable to impossible! We need all the advantages we can get, and I need a loyal, dedicated, focused assistant!"
Micolash whirled around on Abigail, his hand up; she cowered before him, turning her head away. " I-I-I'm sorry, Professor, " she whimpered.
Micolash's expression went from hardened cruelty to soft, understanding eyes, and a gentle smile in the span of a second. He lowered his hand and brought it to Abigail's back, rubbing it in slow smooth circles. Another hand gripped her chin and slowly turned her to face him.
"I have already forgiven you, Abigail. Yes, I try to mirror our Great Ones and show benevolence." He turned Abigail's face away from Geraldine and to his. She trembled in his arms.
" I-I-I didn't mean to, Professor," Abigail babbled. Tears fell down both her cheeks. " I just - just wanted her - her safe -"
"I know, I know. Shh." His hand slowly petted the top of the student’s hair down, even as he kept a tight hold of her jaw. "Do you think our guest is thirsty?"
Abigail shook her head no but Micolash's thin drawn-out smile said otherwise.
"Would you like to give her some water?"
Abigail's eyes grew, terrified, as she tried to bumble out an answer. But Micolash soon had the water in his hand. He stared at Abigail, his intense look on the verge of insanity.
"I'm fine!" Geraldine shouted. "I'm fine, I don't need any water!"
"Don't be silly," Micolash responded with a deadly calm. "Of course you are thirsty. You've had all that salt."
He popped open the water and grabbed Abigail by the back of the hair, pulling her head back, stretching her neck. She screamed and tried to pull away but he just held on tighter.
"Micolash…"
"No, no, Abigail is right! I neglected your needs. For that I apologize."
And instead of pouring the water down Geraldine's throat, he poured it into - and ont0 - Abigail's. She sputtered and twisted in his grasp as the cool liquid fell somewhat in her mouth, but also splashed over her nose and cheeks, down her long exposed neck and onto the collar of her shirt. It soaked Abigail, and made her cough and gag, but Micolash kept her upright and rigid.
Geraldine could only gape in horror at the scene before her.
The water empty, Abigail managed a single gasp of blessed air before Micolash bent her head down. She was swerved again to hover over Geraldine. This time where the smell of food tempted the hunter, a few drops of water fell onto her lips, Abigail was that drenched.
The two women stared at each other in shared terror, mere inches from each other.
"Now kiss her," Micolash whispered savagely to Abigail.
Geraldine felt Abigail's sharp intake of breath. "But I-"
"Kiss. Her." Micolash demanded, and Abigail did, quickly, on Geraldine's cheek. It was cute and chaste, the perfect polite kiss.
But this was not what Micolash wanted. "I said kiss her!" he shouted. "Let her lick you dry. I want you drunk on her skin and high on her flesh. Kiss her, damnit!"
There, on the edge of insanity, Geraldine saw Abigail perfectly. She knew the fear that was swelling in her brain, blanketing the entire scene, masking its truth as a defense mechanism. Geraldine knew because she had done the same thing all the years with her father, on the farm. She had only recently to have her own clouds part, with the help of simply not being in that situation any longer; it had been ten years since she had left her house, never to go back. The dreams plagued her, not knowing the specifics of the atrocities committed against her, but she felt them, wordless, in every part of her body.
It is for this reason that Geraldine, despite her own terrible situation, suddenly felt a deep pang of pity for the poor student held inches from her own face. Abigail cried silently, her tears mingling with the water splashed upon her face.
The trapped hunter whispered. “Abigail. Abigail, listen to me.”
Abigail sniffled and looked down at Geraldine.
“Remember what you told me?”
“Yes,” Abigail breathed.
Geraldine did not hesitate. Micolash was watching but Geraldine still said her words.
“I won’t hurt you.”
And then Geraldine lifted her head as high as she could, until her lips pressed against Abigail’s cheek. She kissed the younger woman, and then dragged her tongue across the skin.
Despite the salt, the water tasted just as life giving as the water Abigail had given her earlier that day. The hunter closed her eyes and tried not to focus on the faint twinges of pleasure from the act.
Geraldine comforted Abigail with the gentle lick of her tongue. She consoled with the pucker of her lips. She soothed with the little moans from her throat. And she raged against the injustice of both of their situations with her vigor, bouncing her head, twisting it this way and that to finally give Micolash what he wanted. A spectacle.
At first Abigail tried to pull back, but perhaps she understood the ploy: to survive. She soon joined in with desperate intensity. Abigail ran her lips under Geraldine’s ears, along her jawline, under her chin. She met Geraldine’s intensity clumsily, but there was something to be said about her apparent enthusiasm.
Each time they touched, unmistakable desire grew in strength. Geraldine knew this was just a fleeting response to their physicality. But while Geraldine kept her pace smooth and controlled, above her, Abigail’s actions became more erratic. Seductive kisses became hit and run scatterplots, as she got more frenzied and louder, louder, louder.
“Abigail!” Geraldine gasped in between kisses, and for a split second, the student parted lips and lifted her head. To Geraldine, Abigail was a statue of pleasure: a face dripping with sweat. Mouth opened in an orgasmic moan. Eyes with a wild, empty look to them.
And then Abigail fell over onto Geraldine’s face and chin, still.
“Oooh , my dear, how you delight a lonely man,” Micolash’s voice said from somewhere above her. The weight of Abigail slid off her at last and Geraldine took several deep breaths.
“What did you do to her?” Geraldine demanded. She lifted her head and saw the now inert form of Abigail pulled to the floor, curled and discarded like a set of clothes after a long, dirty day.
“Saving her. From you.” His voice raised curiously, as if bemused by the entire prospect. “You continue to surprise me, Geraldine. I did not know you were so… talented.”
“It’s what you wanted, right? Some perverted show?”
He simply chuckled and moved to Geraldine’s side. Geraldine froze when his hands reached for her but instead of touching her, he undid the binding at her right hand.
Immediately Geraldine lashed at him, but he moved backwards, just out of range.
“I wanted to give Abigail what she had dreamed about. Let her play out her little fantasy. And then we could finally get to work.”
“...What are you doing?” Geraldine responded not to his words but his actions.
“We all have a price,” he said, as he loosened the other strap on her left wrist. “What is yours?”
Geraldine sat up, but her head pounded as dizziness and blurred vision assailed her. Micolash was a set of refracted images to her side.
“I told you… Abigail." Geraldine asserted, though her weakness reached her voice. "I’m getting her out of here.”
“You are, are you? How very quaint. All it took was one kiss and you are as impassioned lovers.” Again Micolash chucked to himself as he moved to Geraldine’s ankle. This time when her leg was free she kicked, but it was a feeble attempt.
Micolash laughed harder. Geraldine bent for her last bound ankle but even that act disoriented her. She reached for what she thought was her ankle but there was nothing but air.
"What little blood you have left is working overtime," Micolash quipped as he undid the last belt for her. "You should lay back down and rest."
"Not a chance."
But Geraldine's words were stronger than her body. The moment she pushed herself off the bed her entire body was sent reeling. Her legs could barely support themselves, her arms flailing through the air. It was by luck her hand caught the edge of the table and steadied herself enough to not fall to the ground with Abigail.
Before her was the elevator down, open and inviting.
And yet Micolash stood to the side, the inert form of Abigail between them. And he was smiling.
"Aren't you going to stop me?" Geraldine asked.
But Micolash shook his head no. Instead he placed his hands behind his back and rocked on his feet, watching her with great interest.
So Geraldine took a few tentative steps forward. She was shaky from the blood loss and food fatigue, but it was enough to stand, to inch forward. Given time, she knew she could walk to the elevator, ride it down, and find her way out of this damn college and leave it forever. She would be free.
And yet Abigail laid so peacefully by her feet. Abigail, with whom she had shared such a raw intense moment with a minute before. Pity and sadness and the desire to liberate this woman from Micolash rose to a head; Geraldine shuffled over as best she could and bent down to lift Abigail up. As Geraldine did, her world spun and made her sick, disoriented simply from the change in blood flow from her head to the rest of her body.
Geraldine caught herself in time to not fall again. Micolash laughed yet again, sharper and louder than ever before.
"Becoming intimately acquainted with the symptoms of blood loss, I see!" he said, delightedly. His tone then shifted sharply towards the forlorn. "Alas, I suppose this is where we must bid adieu … "
He then swept his arms grandly to the elevator door.
A sudden headache pounded her skull. "I don't understand." Geraldine demanded, exasperated. "I was right there and you're letting me go… ?"
The creepy, conniving smile stretched on his face once more as he shook his head no. "I am giving you a choice. You may leave, but in doing so you leave your darling Abigail behind."
Geraldine gritted her teeth. She looked down at Abigail again. If she had been in fit order, she could have, and would have, carried out the scholar herself, even in her unconscious state. But now…
Suddenly Micolash's cruel plan became painfully apparent to Geraldine. She took a step towards the elevator. "I will return and bring back law enforcement."
"Who will find what evidence? Only Master Willem knows of this arrangement, and he will staunchly deny its existence."
"But you can't just kidnap anyone who walks into Byrgenwerth!"
"I will if it means making progress for mankind's ascension to the Great Ones." Micolash shook his head. "You still do not understand the role you are going to play! Your name will - well, it can't be made public - but your blood will be the herald in so many studies that will lead us to the greater truth of the cosmos!"
"I'm still going to deny you and your insane experiments… you twisted freak. I’m leaving - now."
Geraldine felt the little blood she had traveling up and down her body as it was required - she did not know it was possible for blood to both burn you alive and freeze you like a corpse, both at the same time. But she shuffled forward, getting closer and closer to the elevator.
And yet each step made her turn around, not at Micolash, but at Abigail lying helpless on the floor.
I will come back for you, she said to herself, over and over like a prayer.
Meanwhile Micolash stood there, watching Geraldine’s torment with increasing unhinged amusement. "You flatter me, Geraldine! To think my visage will haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.” He hummed, pleased, and then tapped his fingers on his lips. An almost comedic look of surprise appeared on the professor’s face. “Ah - but I seem to have forgotten a little detail. " Micolash said, pressing his hand against his heart. He then leaned forward at the waist, curling his lip, sneering at her. His words pounded like death knells in Geraldine's skull.
"If you leave now, Abigail will take your place."
Geraldine whipped around so fast that the world spun; when her vision cleared there was Micolash, smiling, gesturing to the now empty medical bed. “She’s your assistant!”
“She is whatever I need her to be. In this case - not an ideal subject for the experiment, but one that will still hold some value.” He looked down at the woman and smiled a not-so-gentle smile.
Geraldine yet again could only stare, but not at Micolash. No, yet again it was the soft curled, defenseless form of Abigail partly in shadow. She did not deserve this. She did not deserve Geraldine’s cowardice.
The hunter’s stomach tightened in knots. She knew what she had to do but…
“What is this experiment?” Geraldine asked. Her words came out choked, hesitant. “I want specifics. I want to know… exactly what I’m signing up for.”
Micolash grinned even wider. “Six paleblood infusions, of increasing intensity. One every four weeks. You will get monitored and … thoroughly examined to trace the changes that occur.”
Her mind skipped over ‘thoroughly examined’ and settled on a more familiar term. Paleblood. Some of the hunters were already taking the mystery fluid, and it made them better at hunting beasts. Geraldine had been offered it before but turned it down. She didn’t trust how silvery it looked. “Changes? Like what?”
“That’s the fun part - we do not know!” His giggle came out high pitched, but he seemed to read Geraldine’s expression and brought himself under control. “Preliminary investigations indicate that the paleblood does not instantly kill someone, but it does change a human. That is what I aim to discover with you .”
“Six months… and I would have to stay here?”
“Absolutely. In fact, your presence at Byrgenwerth must remain a secret, I’m afraid. Not until I’m prepared to release you and your new, possibly ascended state out to the world.”
Six months hidden away…! Geraldine muscles contracted, ready to flee. It would be her father all over again. Her feet moved again, as she pushed past the pain to the elevator.
And yet… one more look over her shoulder doomed her.
Abigail.
Geraldine sighed such a deep, sorrowful sigh. She licked her lips and looked at Micolash.
“I know my price now.”
“Hmm?” Micolash tilted his head nearly 45 degrees.
“You are not to touch her, do you hear me? No more of what happened tonight. And at the end of the six months, she leaves with me.”
“You misunderstand - this evening was an unusual situation that only occurred out of the goodness of my heart … but such subtleties are no doubt lost on you.”
Geraldine frowned before Micolash continued.
“However, I will not force her to stay OR leave. As I have said before, Geraldine is an independent scholar who has the right to choose her path in life. As do you, right now.” Micolash said, cruelly understanding the irony of the statement.
Because he had read Geraldine correctly. She had no choice in the matter. She would do exactly what he wanted and stay, all to spare another life the agony of being alone with him.
“She will be allowed to choose to leave at the end,” Micolash conceded, flippantly.
Geraldine nodded. Still, the urge to leave was so incredibly strong that she had to close her eyes and breathe and fight back every instinct telling her this was wrong.
“How do I know I can trust you will carry out your word?”
“I am a gentleman and a scholar,” he answered. “But I can offer this. While I cannot let you leave this room for your safety and the safety of others, I can be more accommodating. Not keep you tied to the table, for instance. Bring you books, other forms of entertainment. Let you feed yourself.”
Geraldine grimaced and Micolash lifted a finger before she could say anything.
“But I do not give this freely. You must give me your complete cooperation for the experiment to succeed. There will be frequent blood draws, days where you must be still, days where your condition might require other… activities. Do you understand me, Geraldine? You must do everything I say to maintain my trust in you.”
And then his face curled into that lewd devilish smile and Geraldine knew exactly what he meant.
“I’m not going to be your little on-demand whore.”
“Then Abigail will. Willingly, if I may add. She does love me so.”
Geraldine shuddered and wavered in her stance. Everything about this was wrong, wrong, wrong . She had had a taste of his cruelty just the day before, and knew that just scratched the surface.
But Abigail… dear Abigail…!
“Six months…” she trailed off.
“Six months, your blood, possibly a piece of your soul, if you believe in such things. And what in return? Knowledge that you are one of the first steps mankind takes to the cosmos. You should be happy for such an opportunity! A chance to rise out of your mortal shell.”
He tittered this way and that like a little bird, watching her. Scrutinizing her.
Geraldine sighed again, deeply. “Alright! Alright… before I change my mind.”
“Good!” Micolash clapped his hands once. “I knew you were full of insight. Now, back to the table you go.”
Geraldine opened her mouth in protest. “You said I could move around here!”
“Oh, not yet. You are so weak, you need to lay down.” There was a sharp, pointed, violent beat before he added, “You must lay down.”
Geraldine’s throat tightened painfully but she did as he asked. The walk back was just as painful, as was getting back on the bed and putting her head back. Again she confronted the bricked up ceiling of the college. This time instead of yawning high above her, it pressed down on her and her chest, as oppressive as a coffin lid and just as claustrophobic.
“Now to make you all safe and sound…” Micolash’s voice said, as she felt the belt restraints reapplied, tied a little tighter this time.
“If you hurt her… I’ll kill you,” Geraldine threatened, her way of protest airless and lacking any punch.
The straps over her wrists tightened. Geraldine had to close her eyes to endure the fathom's deep ocean of helplessness that washed over her.
Then the ocean whispered with the voice of a madman: “One more thing. If you tell Abigail about our arrangement, she will join you.”
Geraldine sucked in a breath and opened her mouth. But Micolash stood in front of her, next to Abigail, his finger over his lips. “Shh. She’s sleeping. Wouldn’t want her to wake up now.”
The newly trapped hunter bit her lip and snarled, but said nothing. Geraldine watched as Micolash dragged Abigail to the wheelchair, setting her in the seat before pushing her away.
As the elevator went down, Geraldine heard the faint sounds of happy whistling.
Abigail woke up with a start. The sun shone through her windows to her room. It looked to be a beautiful Byrgenwerth day, but her own dreams had been plagued with nightmares. Nightmares that felt so real they clung to her mouth and lips and tongue - a salty, erotic taste.
She exhaled and raised her hands to wipe her eyes of sleep.
And then she saw it. The tie - her uniform tie - looped around her wrist.
She grabbed her pillow and pressed it as tightly as she could against her mouth, and screamed.
FIN FOR NOW