Disputing the Contract (contains mild violence and gore)

[Aysel]

***Asil Kahya***

The tall, brooding Turkish man stared intently at the door of the building known as the Haper Rock Morgue. The target had entered the building some time ago, and he had stayed behind, waiting, wondering why she would go in to such a place, and even more, why she was taking so long. Instead of wandering inside to find her, he simply lit a cigar and leaned on the building, watching and waiting. He was good at both of those things and sooner or later, she would return and then it would be time.

***Aysel Johari***

She had felt uneasy since the sunset had woken her. It was as if the skin on the back of her neck itched and nothing she could do would stop it. She felt as if she was being watched and it was incredibly distracting to her. Though she knew the long, loose black pants and ankle length tunic were not ideal for fighting, she had removed her shoes and taken a few turns in the cage. The bigger surprise was not that she had stepped in to the cage and gone against Jonah, Zakar and Catherine, but that she had enjoyed her time and the rush of the fights. Her eyes had stayed fixed on the cage and the fights, even when she had decided she was done for the night. Her last match had been with Jonah and she was slightly dizzy from several blows to her head. So she stood in the corner and watched quietly.

After a small amount of time, she figured that everyone else was suitably distracted and she moved silently to the door. She didn't want to say goodbye’s or stop and talk. The itch had moved from her neck to between her shoulders and she felt the urgent need to be outside in an open space. She moved quickly through the halls and up to the morgue, pausing a moment to look around before she slipped from the secret passage and in to the morgue itself. Her steps were quick, light and silent as she rushed out in to the night. She stood still long enough to draw in a cold breath of crisp air, then pushed off the wall and headed for her apartment.

***Asil Kahya***

The man who had been waiting for her did not miss her reappearance, nor the way she paused like a frightened rabbit. Something had spooked the woman and he hoped it hadn't been him. She certainly wasn't smart enough to figure out that something was up, and yet she was jumpy and nervous. Aside from her nerves, she seemed to be fine to his inexperienced eyes. And even better, she was alone. Normally the woman was with at least one other person, be that her fake husband or a friend. Asil had no qualms about harming any one she might be with, however his plans and that of his employer would go so much better if that were not an issue. And for once, for the first time in weeks, she was alone and he could easily accomplish his task.

With that thought in mind, he plucked his phone from his pocket and pressed the programmed number. Lifting the device to his ear, he spoke in quick, curt tones to the man on the other end of the line. He then pocketed the device and put out his cigar before ambling across the street, forcing a smile on his face as he joined the woman on her stroll, greeting her warmly.

***Aysel Johari***

The chime of her phone distracted her and she glanced at the screen, surprised to see a text from Jonah wishing her safe travels. Blinking away the dizziness, she had started to respond when the arrival of her thrall caught her off guard, his voice coming from the darkness startled her and she gave him a thin smile, returning his greeting. It was all she said, her attention drawn back to her phone as she tapped out a reply, ignoring the world around her. She figured she didn't have to pay attention since her thrall was with her and the man normally watched out for her and kept an eye on their surroundings.

Trying to ignore the shrieking tires of a vehicle trying to stop too quickly on the slick road, she attempted to send a text, finishing her sentence and hitting “send” just as her sixth sense urged her to look up. Urged her to run, to hide. But she didn't do either of those things. She didn't have time to do more than look up at the noise and then the world went dark, the phone in her hands falling to the pavement and shattering on the ground.

[Aysel]

Her shoulders felt as if they were on fire, wrists chaffed and aching. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth, and her eyes felt gummy and gritty when she tried to open them. Her head ached abominably and she had no idea where she was or what had happened. The first thing she did was reach for her phone, only to recall she dropped it on the sidewalk. It was probably broken now. With a soft sigh, she tried to sit up, but dizziness made her lay back down and close her eyes. She did a few deep breathing exercises even though the oxygen wasn’t a necessity for her. It still brought a familiar relaxation to her.

After a few more moments, she pushed herself to her hands and knees, keeping her head bowed low between her arms, still breathing slowly. As her senses returned slowly, she became aware of a putrid, retched stench and she was suddenly wishing that she hadn’t started the breathing exercise. She moved to push herself to her feet but never managed it, smacking her head on the low ceiling, causing her to crumble to her knees with a low groan. She rubbed her head and cursed silently.

Kneeling forward on hands and knees once more, her hands began to search out her surroundings. Even with her enhanced vampire sight the room was pitch black and claustrophobic. She told herself not to panic, that everything would be fine. But it was difficult to believe herself when she didn’t even know where she was. As her hands slid along the dirt floor, she discovered a rough shaped hole that was the source of the nauseating smell. She knew in an instant what it was and she backed hastily away from the rotting hole of human excrement. Swallowing down the bile that climbed in to her throat, she resumed her search, finding a corner of the walls.

Her fingertips told her the walls were made of irregular shaped, mortared stone. Inching her fingers along the wall, she found a steel door, cool against her touch. Feeling along the seams of the door, she tried to find the hinges only to realize they were on the outside of the door. She continued her examination, searching for an opening of any sort. When she found none, she put her back to the door with her knees drawn up. She felt a wash of despair and let her forehead thunk to her knees as she fought back tears. She’d quit breathing so at least the stench was no longer sitting in the back of her throat.

With no light, she had no way to mark the passage of time. She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there. Seconds, minutes, hours? She didn’t know, she just knew she was starting to get more and more scared with each moment that passed. She was just about to start exploring the small pit like cell when she heard voices. Leaning back against the door, she closed her eyes and strained to hear with her enhanced senses.

“I got her for you, now you keep your part of the deal.”

“Of course I will. Though I do not know why you would want such a whore as that.”

“I bought her contract! I own her!”

“Calm down, after her trial you can do with her what you like.”

“Fine then. I will collect her tomorrow night.”

Trial? Contract? She felt a sick, sinking sensation in her stomach. She knew one of those voices. It was the voice of her Uncle. A man she thought dead after her last encounter with him in Saudi Arabia. Her head fell back against the door and she clutched the rings that circled the finger on her left hand. She was trying to think of an escape plan, but soon her plotting turned to prayer. She had never prayed so hard to Allah in her life. All she had now was her faith and the hope that someone would notice she was missing.

[Aysel]

She didn’t know how much time had past. Days and nights had blended in to one another. She only knew it had been far longer than the voices had said. She knew several nights had passed. The hunger pangs made her crazy with need and the scent of her own blood was more than tempting. Her nails had become broken and bleeding from her attempts to dig through the dirt floor and escape. No guards had come with food, no chance to kill them for blood. Delirium and lack of sleep found her chewing on her fingers for sustenance, the rare moments of lucidity making her shameful of her own actions.

She was in the midst of crawling around her cell, trying to keep herself distracted. The fine silk of her clothes were dirty and torn from the hours spent doing this very thing over and over. She was convinced she was wearing a track in the hard packed earth, but it could have easily been her sleep addled mind making her believe such a thing. She had to get out of the cell before she went even crazier than she already was. But no voices, no sounds, and no nothing came to her rescue. Curling up on the dirty, moldy straw pallet she let the tears take her once more, adding to the mess of dirt and blood as she scrubbed at her face, her finger tips raw. Muscle and bone exposed on a few of the delicate digits.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed her by when she heard the first sound. A faint voice, harsh and demanding. It was soon joined by a second voice. They seemed to be arguing with each other, but at last they silenced and she heard the footsteps coming towards her dank cell. Shrinking back in the corner, she trembled with fear and worry, holding her breath when they stopped outside the impenetrable door that kept her in the hole of a prison. The hinges screamed their protest as the door was opened and light glared in, causing her to raise a dirty hand to cover her stinging eyes. After so long in the darkness, the bright lantern light was too much for her and she shrank even closer against the wall.

The large silhouette that came for her was barely seen, and a rough bag was placed over her head and cinched brutally tight around her neck before she was dragged bodily from the cell. She was forced to stand up right, a movement that drew a groan of agony from her. So long unable to stand straight had pain shooting down the backs of her legs. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep any further protests from coming forth as her hands were shackled before her and she was shoved down a stone hallway. She could hear her steps echoing off the walls, heart the beating hearts of the men beside her. She longed to sink her fangs in to their necks, to swallow down the thick, hot blood pulsing inside them. She lunged for one of them and was met with a hard blow to the head that had her seeing stars. She felt a trickle of blood beginning in her scalp, moving to matt in her tangle hair.

She had no idea how far they had walked, how many stairs, how many turns, how many voices she had heard on the way. But the next thing she realized was that she was in a large, echoing room, being forced to her knees. The hood was removed and she blinked her vision clear, looking around at the somber faces of the men gathered in a semi-circle. Her gaze landed on her Uncle and she hissed in anger.

“You son of a *****!” She shrieked like a wild thing, spitting the words at him. “I will kill you for this!”

She lunged for him, but brutal hands on her shoulders held her in place and her uncle only smirked derisively at her. She glared at him and tried to bite the hand that was over her mouth, she had so much to say and would fight to say it.

“Remove her tongue. This way we do not need to listen to any more of her hateful words.” Her eyes widened in shock as her mouth was forced open. A rusty, black iron clamp was placed on her tongue, the guards, all men, were not gentle when they jerked her tongue from her mouth. The hands on her face were bruising and she closed her eyes, not wanting to see the gelding knife they brought forward. It was a quick slice and her tongue was removed, causing her to cry out in pain as blood poured down her chin. She was given no chance to staunch the blood, and had no choice but to let it pour down her chin and soak the tatters of her black tunic.

Through her pain, she glared at her uncle and the men with him. This was not a trial, it was a farce and she knew she would be lucky to leave with her life. She cast her gaze around, hoping for sympathy, for an ally of some sort, but all she found were cold, unpitying stares. She looked down to the floor as her blood began to drip on the tile, waiting for the next cruelty. Her uncles words were lost to her in her misery, feeling swamped by despair. She didn’t move again until she felt her hands seized, panic making her struggle as they placed her left hand on a wooden block. Her eyes widened and she fought so hard it took three men to hold her down. There was one man, bigger than the rest, who held her wrist in a delicate, crushing grip. As he looked cruelly down at her, he lifted a large hammer and smashed her ring and pinky fingers, bending the gold and diamond bands that circled the slender digit, forcing the metal in to the bone beneath.

Before she could draw breath to scream her pain, a knife came down and neatly severed the two fingers. Shock held her still, she stared at the detached digits as if they didn’t belong to her. She felt woozy from pain, her head lolling on her shoulders, she just barely managed to scoop the mangled jewelry off the chopping block before she slumped over in the hands of her captors, letting oblivion take her from the torment and pain.