The Dragon Lord's Wish

Ep 2:The Evil Grin

I should have known better than to accept his offer of food and a bed, but I had been so cold. My hip bones were starting to jut out, and my ribs were clearly visible. I hadn’t had a full meal in so long that his offer seemed too good to be true. It turned out it was.

Chappon was so very persuasive and seemed almost generous when he wanted something. It was uncanny what he could lead people to do. I have a theory that he is secretly a dealer demon in disguise. I’ve heard he has made deals to take babies from their mothers, though I’ve never seen it transpire or met anyone who has made such a deal. Though I couldn’t understand a mother’s pain, I could understand the desperation.

I’ve only heard of dealer demons, never seen one in person. Black like ink, solid yet liquid at the same time, never holding a form for two long. Their teeth are black with glints of gold supposedly from all the money they swindle. They were said to always have a permanent smile and to have sickly sweet voices. Just like Chappon.

Winter on the streets of Paris was just as unforgiving as Monsieur Chappon. My shoes had gotten holes in them two weeks ago and the wool I stuffed them with wasn’t enough to protect them. The snow and mud would always seep in. I couldn’t find wax to seal the wool.

Since Madame Blanchet passed last autumn things have been much harder now and I seem to get myself deeper and deeper into trouble. I don’t recall ever having a mother, but I suppose Madame Blanchet was as close as I came to having one. I have no memory prior to 3 years ago. Madame Blanchet found me almost dead outside her tavern in the rain and took me in. She cleaned me up, nursed me back to health, and if she had spare rooms available then she would allow me to stay there.

Madame Blanchet was a shorter woman with a round face and her hair always up in a bun with little coils of gray falling out as she bustled about her tavern. She never had much, but she always shared with me. So many times, she would leave a bowl of stew with bread out for me. She tried to help me find out who I was, but we were never successful. She thinks I hit my head and stumbled along the street before collapsing at her doorstep.

I know I have a scar going from my right ear to the back of my head, it hurts sometimes.

When we couldn’t figure out who I was or where I came from, she decided to call me Jacqueline. She said it felt like a name that fit me though I truly don’t know what she meant by that. I didn’t question her much, especially when she said she had a feeling about something.

She could always feel the weather before it came, she could always tell when bad news was coming, and she always knew when a baby was going to be born right down to the hour. She taught me how to use my powers as a white witch and survive on the streets by doing simple healings and spells for money. She taught me how to not draw attention to myself.

After I had been enslaved for the first time, she saved me. I don’t understand how she got me freed but I’ve been forever grateful to her.

We came up with different ways to help me blend into the background. I wore very plain clothes and always avoided eye contact with strangers. We had used a clay mixture to hide the red in my hair. Once it dried, she would shake out my hair and braid it to keep it out of the way. It would look like a dark brown/gray. Madame had told me that red hair like mine would make me an easy target for the wrong kind of people. Again, I didn’t know what she meant or how she knew but I didn’t question her.

After she passed it became very hard for me to live from day to day. Most people did not want to deal with a witch that had no one to vouch for them for fear of prosecution or dark magic.

I had done a few healings, but it wasn’t enough to keep me fed. I hadn’t been able to find the ingredients for the clay paste we put on my hair, so I tried to wear a hood anytime I was out and about.

I hadn’t been able to get ahold of shears, so my hair was very long and very tangled. I kept it in a knotted braid under my cloak, it was getting so heavy. I was going to cut all my hair off as soon as I could find something to cut it with.

My clothes were starting to wear very thin offering little protection. I no longer had petticoats as they had been stolen this past summer when I was bathing.

I stayed in some run-down shacks and abandoned stables on the outskirts of town, but it was starting to get frigid at night, and I was scared I was going to freeze to death in my sleep. The old horse blankets that I found were shredded and basically rags after I washed them.

I hadn’t eaten in almost a week when Monsieur Chappon stopped me outside of a market while I was attempting to steal something to eat. He grabbed my hand and pulled me close to him. He smells like wine is seeping from his pores. The fact he never acts drunk is amazing.

I thought he was going to turn me into the market master for punishment as there is a small reward for thieves. But instead, he asked if I would like a hot meal and a bed in exchange for some light service work. He had twirled one of my ringlets when he asked me. I should have trusted my gut when it said to run from him. I thought by work he meant cleaning and errand running, not laying with men in the brothel or servicing him in whatever way he wanted. I wouldn’t have accepted his offer if I knew the truth.

The very thought of my naïve foolishness twists my stomach as we continue down the stairs.

Gods, why am I so dumb? How could I have thought that was okay? Why did I think he was being kind? I should have known there was a steeper price. Being in servitude was one thing I could live with that. But when he told me the awful, foul, disgusting things he wanted me to do for his patrons I refused.

I would have been his slave. Now I found myself chained and bound once again. After I had sworn to myself that I would never again end up in bondage. I’m such a fool. If I can escape once, then I can come up with a plan to escape again. Especially since I knew better. I feel like Madame would have been ashamed of me.

I continue to berate myself as he pulls me further down into his lair. My feet slip occasionally on the wet, stone steps, sending sharp wave after wave of pain. It hurts to move. Hell, it hurts to breathe. Every time I resisted Chappon’s guards they beat me. I know my back was covered in newly formed bruises, as were my arms and legs.

We reach the end of the stairs. Dampness, sickness, and hopelessness fill my nostrils. I look up to see a long hallway lit with torches and floor to ceiling crossbars. Little beads of light bounce back to me from inside the cages. The smell turns my stomach as I begrudgingly move forward.

Despair begins to fill me as I see the sunken faces of his other victims coming under the firelights to look at the newest addition. The little light beads become their eyes.

Silence, complete silence.

It was rumored he imprisoned those who were indebted to him and resisted his requests, torturing them until their spirit was broken. Broken people were much more complacent.

We stop at the end of the hallway in front of what I assume is my cell. My sweat runs cold. It is empty and reality is truly starting to set in at how bad this is for me.

“You know, I haven’t had a redhead in quite a while.” He pulls me close holding my face in his hand. I roll my eyes. My hair was browner due to the dirt. Red heads were considered to be fiery and fun. Why, I’ll never know as I would much rather be left alone.

His other hand started running up my stomach while keeping my chain in his hand but it loosens giving me some leeway.

“You could prove to be very useful for my business,” I try to pull away as he brings his face closer to mine but his grip tightens, “and for my personal pleasure as well.”

He smiles, and his black teeth make my stomach flip. His hand begins to run over my breasts. I begin to panic. I would rather die than be someone’s slave again. I can’t do it again.

I thrust my head forward, striking his nose and forehead.