Rogue's Pawn Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: Jeffe Kennedy
control.
The “real” alternative, while spectacularly bizarre, at least left me with some options. If I had moved into some kind of alternate reality or another planet, then most physical laws promised I could go back the other direction. Therefore the most logical thing to do was focus on getting back. Me and Dorothy.
Instead of ruby slippers, it seemed I had wishing as my tool. Time to suspend disbelief and try to master what resources I had.
Concentrating, I wished to be free of the chains. I pictured myself standing in the aspen grove at Devils Tower. Or the grassy hillside. I’d take my grassy hill over this. Or the brook. Not the Dog. Don’t think of the Dog. I wished harder.
“It won’t work, you know,” a bell-like voice said, tinseled with amusement at my expense.
My eyes flew open and my head snapped around in shock—or started to, before the waves of agony shot up through my throat and over my skull. Tears filled my eyes with blurry heat. A woman towered over me, not three feet away. Definitely not human. Like a European model, she stood slim in a way that spoke of a different bone structure. Curved cheekbones set off rose-petal lips and gilt almond eyes. Porno-blond hair fringed pixielike around her face. Tinker Bell, right on schedule.
“It won’t work,” she repeated, “because you have been nullified. No more romping about the countryside creating roads, moving perfectly good streams and importing exotic creatures.”
I opened my mouth but only a croak leaked through.
She smirked, the expression shattering the loveliness of her face. “You can’t talk either, though that’s not the silver at work. Personally, I think he should have ripped your throat out like the obscenity you are, instead of just rendering you unconscious. But my judgments are not considered.” She made that sound like a crime against the order of the universe.
Nasty Tinker Bell thumped down a tray I hadn’t noticed on the ledge of the window, splashing liquid in a bowl. She yanked the chain attached to my right wrist and, before I could resist, dragged my hand above my head, looping the link over a hook. With my arm out of the way and holding the bowl in one hand, she sat on the bed, her unbelievably slim hip nudging mine, scooped up some of the liquid and held it to my lips.
Remembering my resolve not to eat or drink in this place, especially now that I was a prisoner, I clamped my lips together. I could at least avoid being drugged. Nasty Tinker Bell’s pretty golden eyes sparked. Turning the spoon, she let the liquid dribble over my mouth so that it ran down my cheeks, past my ears and pooled at the back of my neck to join the crusted mess of hair and various dried liquids there.
Careful not to touch the liquid on my lips, I looked directly at her porno prettiness. Fuck you, I thought.
I knew Tinker Bell couldn’t hear me but I felt better.
“Fine,” she snapped, her voice a little bell being rung too hard. Nasty Tinker Bell clearly understood at least the insult in my eyes. She lifted the bowl, with the clear intention of dumping it on my head.
“Enough,” a male voice said.
As if I’d ceased to exist, Tinker Bell blinked her eyes and regained her lovely self, face smoothing, shining once again in sunny elegance. Reboot and resume program. She gracefully stood and glided to the tray, set the bowl precisely in the center, lifted the tray and left the room without hesitation.
Booted footsteps crossed the room toward me. Act II, scene ii. Exit Nasty Tinker Bell, Enter God-Only-Knows-What-Now. My face was sticky with whatever the brothy stuff had been, my hair wet and fouled. I stank. I hurt. I was chained to a bed in a place so completely unknown I couldn’t begin to understand it. I tried to squeeze my legs closer together, but the chains seemed at the limit of their reach. The energy of my brief triumph evaporated, allowing tears to well up again.
Oh, please, please, please, do not cry. The
The “real” alternative, while spectacularly bizarre, at least left me with some options. If I had moved into some kind of alternate reality or another planet, then most physical laws promised I could go back the other direction. Therefore the most logical thing to do was focus on getting back. Me and Dorothy.
Instead of ruby slippers, it seemed I had wishing as my tool. Time to suspend disbelief and try to master what resources I had.
Concentrating, I wished to be free of the chains. I pictured myself standing in the aspen grove at Devils Tower. Or the grassy hillside. I’d take my grassy hill over this. Or the brook. Not the Dog. Don’t think of the Dog. I wished harder.
“It won’t work, you know,” a bell-like voice said, tinseled with amusement at my expense.
My eyes flew open and my head snapped around in shock—or started to, before the waves of agony shot up through my throat and over my skull. Tears filled my eyes with blurry heat. A woman towered over me, not three feet away. Definitely not human. Like a European model, she stood slim in a way that spoke of a different bone structure. Curved cheekbones set off rose-petal lips and gilt almond eyes. Porno-blond hair fringed pixielike around her face. Tinker Bell, right on schedule.
“It won’t work,” she repeated, “because you have been nullified. No more romping about the countryside creating roads, moving perfectly good streams and importing exotic creatures.”
I opened my mouth but only a croak leaked through.
She smirked, the expression shattering the loveliness of her face. “You can’t talk either, though that’s not the silver at work. Personally, I think he should have ripped your throat out like the obscenity you are, instead of just rendering you unconscious. But my judgments are not considered.” She made that sound like a crime against the order of the universe.
Nasty Tinker Bell thumped down a tray I hadn’t noticed on the ledge of the window, splashing liquid in a bowl. She yanked the chain attached to my right wrist and, before I could resist, dragged my hand above my head, looping the link over a hook. With my arm out of the way and holding the bowl in one hand, she sat on the bed, her unbelievably slim hip nudging mine, scooped up some of the liquid and held it to my lips.
Remembering my resolve not to eat or drink in this place, especially now that I was a prisoner, I clamped my lips together. I could at least avoid being drugged. Nasty Tinker Bell’s pretty golden eyes sparked. Turning the spoon, she let the liquid dribble over my mouth so that it ran down my cheeks, past my ears and pooled at the back of my neck to join the crusted mess of hair and various dried liquids there.
Careful not to touch the liquid on my lips, I looked directly at her porno prettiness. Fuck you, I thought.
I knew Tinker Bell couldn’t hear me but I felt better.
“Fine,” she snapped, her voice a little bell being rung too hard. Nasty Tinker Bell clearly understood at least the insult in my eyes. She lifted the bowl, with the clear intention of dumping it on my head.
“Enough,” a male voice said.
As if I’d ceased to exist, Tinker Bell blinked her eyes and regained her lovely self, face smoothing, shining once again in sunny elegance. Reboot and resume program. She gracefully stood and glided to the tray, set the bowl precisely in the center, lifted the tray and left the room without hesitation.
Booted footsteps crossed the room toward me. Act II, scene ii. Exit Nasty Tinker Bell, Enter God-Only-Knows-What-Now. My face was sticky with whatever the brothy stuff had been, my hair wet and fouled. I stank. I hurt. I was chained to a bed in a place so completely unknown I couldn’t begin to understand it. I tried to squeeze my legs closer together, but the chains seemed at the limit of their reach. The energy of my brief triumph evaporated, allowing tears to well up again.
Oh, please, please, please, do not cry. The
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