The Copper Horse #1 Fear (8 page)

"I don't know," Reuben confessed after a moment of silence. "I got betrayed, I suppose."

Mooray coughed, knocking on a low wooden door and entering without waiting for an answer. The room was as simple as the others, although here the window was much larger. Reuben looked at it with curiosity now that he was safe, and he swallowed at the sight of an amphitheater made of wood. There was a medium-sized, circular arena about seven feet below them, and above it, he could see several rows of benches, which were now slowly filling up with a loud crowd. A chill ran down his spine at the sudden realization that all those people were here to watch the undead feasting on defenseless victims.

"So who is that man in black?" Reuben tried to distract himself from looking outside.

"Man in black?" someone said behind him, but before he could look around, Mooray was joined by a young, bearded man who examined Reuben's naked body with a pleased smile.

"The younger Mr. Dal," Mooray said absently.

Beardy shrugged at Mooray's answer. "Hands up." He jumped up to grab a thick rope hanging from a hook in the ceiling.

"Why?" Reuben tensed up again but complied, lifting his arms toward the hook. He could imagine it was a good position for all kinds of torture, and he didn't like that thought one bit.

"'Cause I can
smell
lice and fleas on you." Beardy laughed, easily securing Reuben's arms above his head. Mooray was sniffing the contents of some vials standing on a table that was the only piece of furniture in the room.

"People don't have fleas." Reuben pouted, not appreciating the position at all.

"Shut up, you old hack," said Beardy.

Mooray returned with a jar and a broad paintbrush. "Get me a cap, will ya?"

"What are you doing?" Reuben felt unpleasantly exposed.

"Gettin' rid of the nasty stuff in ya hair." Mooray dipped the brush in a thick, white fluid which he then applied to Reuben's head. It smelled sour and harsh. He frowned, but gave in, knowing that it had to be done.

He looked out the window in an attempt to focus on something else, but what he saw made all the blood drain from his face. Grayish figures in rags roamed around the arena. There were ten, at least as many as the prisoners. The thought that living people were going to be led into the arena made his blood freeze. And the audience, they were cheering on the undead!

When prisoners were let out there naked, it was a bloodbath, and it was quick, like a sharp blade cutting into the throat. The horrible, spine-chilling massacre was too frightening to watch, so Reuben closed his eyes, but he knew the screams would haunt him for years to come.

Chapter 6

Too shocked to talk to anyone, Reuben was put in a cage at the back of a steam-powered carriage. Mooray covered the tiny prison with black fabric, only a small square hole in the cloth allowing the captive to watch the streets once the vehicle moved. He saw a city, different, yet strangely similar to London. Even though this clearly was a lively neighborhood, there were no proper walkways. Through the opening, he could see a dense mosaic of buildings that didn't match each other at all. Some were simple and built of brick while others looked like elaborate palaces with statues and columns painted in bright colors, though smaller than those in the city itself.

One particular strange building reminded Reuben of a crab. because of its wide form and two white elephant tusks pointing upwards out of the wall above the central balcony. Next to this spectacular, yet puzzling residence, stood a wooden hut that could have been transplanted straight from the worst districts of London, and Reuben thought that maybe its purpose was to make the crab-building less dreadful in comparison.

The citizens seemed to reflect the architectural chaos. Many of them looked perfectly normal by Reuben's standards, some even gentlemanly, but he could easily spot people who were plain weird, like this middle-aged couple wearing short dresses made of straw! Numerous Bylondoners looked distinctly foreign; there were women in trousers and even a midget in a sedan-chair.

Reuben took it all in, wide-eyed at the unfamiliarity, but eventually the carriage stopped in front of an elegant looking mansion with massive marble statues of horses on either side of the doors. They were imposing, almost intimidating, carved of black as if they could be the mounts of the riders of the Apocalypse. Reuben heard the coach door opening and after a brief moment, the Bluefinger man came into his line of vision, opening a metal wicket to walk right into a front garden that seemed disproportionately small in comparison to the statues. There was something odd and frightening about his new master, and the way leather clung to his body, showing every curve, was even more provocative than Reuben's own nakedness. He was slim and not very tall, but his figure was definitely male, with wide shoulders and slender hips.

Reuben had asked about him back at the Pit of the Dead, but everyone had refused to talk to him, so he shut down, feeling like an outcast. He decided to just wait and see what would happen next. It wasn't as if he could do anything about his position anyway.

Bluefinger walked up the stairs toward a large, intricately carved door, which opened as soon as he knocked, revealing a man, still young enough to be called a boy. He was slim, dressed in a set of brown trousers and a waistcoat over a cream-colored shirt. He nodded at his master before running down the stairs and toward the carriage. Before Reuben could think about what was about to happen, the fabric was snatched from the cage, revealing his naked body right there in the middle of the street.

"Hey!" Embarrassed and angry, he curled into a ball, his knees to his chin. The boy looked him up and down with unabashed interest. His apple-shaped face was quite attractive, with an upturned nose and brown, heavy lidded eyes. In contrast, the boy's mouth was very thin and broad, with small dimples at the corners. Thick, black eyebrows shadowed his eyes a bit and gave the delicate face a more grown-up look.

"I'm sorry. I will take you in," he said in a gentle tone, as if he were speaking to a frightened animal. Some of the passersby didn't treat Reuben's nakedness with quite the same tolerance. One man gave a long horse-like whinny, much to the amusement of the street crowd.

"Give me a blanket, please?" Reuben felt heat rush up to his cheeks. Why this humiliation? Hadn't he suffered enough already?

The boy shook his head with a sympathetic expression. "Sorry, I can't. Master won't allow it." He opened the cage after a few turns of a small knob that resembled those on safes. "Please, don't bite," he asked, slowly reaching into the cage to take hold of the chain hanging from the iron collar on Reuben's neck.

He gave the boy a confused look, but didn't budge. "Why can't I get a blanket? Just to the door. Please. You can use this black cover for the cage." He forced a smile, wanting to be as pleasing as possible.

"No, I would be punished." The boy tugged at the chain to pull him out of the cage. Laughter of strangers rang in Reuben's ears, and it was no better than the crowd he saw cheering on the zombies earlier.

Gritting his teeth, he pressed his lips together and decided to go out quickly, so that he could reach the house as soon as possible. He covered his crotch with his hands, but it didn't make him feel any less naked. With a pleasant smile, the boy led him into the mansion. The first thing that hit Reuben as the door closed behind them was the smell of buttery sweet cake. It was so soothing that he turned his head when they passed the room it came from.

"What will I be doing?" He looked around, taking in the interior with rising interest. The walls were decorated with majestic paintings of all kinds of horses. He had never seen such intricate artwork. The muscles tensing beneath the animals' skin were especially painted in much detail. There were two dark doors at both sides of the corridor that led past an elegant staircase with a thick, wooden banister. Its bottom end was beautifully carved into the shape of a horse head, and as the boy led him past the stairs, Reuben could see that all posts supporting the railing resembled an elegant leg of the same animal.

"The master will tell you," answered the boy in a soft voice, leading him past a door under the staircase and into the last one, barely visible in the dark corner at the end of the corridor. "I'm Jack."

"Reuben," he said with a sigh. The fact that the boy was introducing himself was a good sign. It meant that he might be working in the house. Not only had he been treated for lice, he'd also been completely shaved, apart from the top of his head. It was nice to be rid of the beard, but moments of having a sharp blade close to his balls and penis had been nauseating. Not to mention the embarrassment he was now suffering. To make matters worse, he heard a muffled girly giggle from behind him, but when he turned, there was no one there.

"Can I get some clothes now?"

Jack looked in the same direction, but shrugged. "Sorry, only if the master allows it."

The room was small and rather dark, but cozy. The walls were painted white, with a few framed prints and posters for decoration. Everything, from the greyish, wooden floor to the matching set of dark furniture, looked old and worn, but it was also very clean. There was a table with a started game of chess by the window and a narrow set of shelves filled with books and packages. A glass cabinet by the wall in front of them held plates, cups and other glassware, which was plain yet carefully polished. On their right, Reuben spotted a partially open door leading to a room with white tiles lining both the floor and walls.

"Is there anything you can tell me, boy?" He tried to hide his annoyance, but he wasn't very good at it while also striving to keep some dignity in his nudity.

"Yes." Jack crossed the room to enter the smaller one. Beyond the door, stood a copper bathtub, already filled with water. "Come here, Reuben."

He approached Jack with reluctance and suspicion. He was still in shock after being betrayed by Jacob, but it was slowly sinking in that he couldn't trust anyone. Suddenly, the door behind him opened and he quickly took a few steps back when he saw it was Mr. Bluefinger, the owner of the house and of... him? He didn't have the top hat on, which made him look even more alien and intimidating as he approached Reuben.

"Master Erik!" Jack was quick to make a very courteous bow, but the man didn't pay him much attention, focused on his new property.

"I like your face smooth." He reached behind his head with both hands to unbuckle the mask.

"Uhm... thank you?" Reuben looked at him, curious to see what face had hid underneath.

"You're welcome, Copper," the man said and a lock of bright yellow hair slid from underneath the back of his mask.

Reuben swallowed the insult. At least it wasn't 'carrot-top'.

"Jack will order you something to eat. What do you want?" Erik's voice had a cool tint to it, even though he sounded pleased.

Reuben just kept staring. Was this a trick question? "I'm not very picky, sir," he said, hoping that if it was some kind of test, such an answer would help him pass it.

"That's not what I'm asking, Copper!" Erik sighed in frustration, dropping his hands to the sides, apparently having trouble with the mask.

"Uhm... stew?" Reuben's body was tense and full of caution.

"What stew?" Unable to manage with the mask, Erik unbuckled a small strap connecting one of the gloves with his top garment and revealed a pale, graceful hand. Its fingertips, though, looked like they had been dipped in dye: pale blue, with fingernails that looked to be polished with sandpaper. Now Reuben knew where 'Bluefinger' came from.

"Meat stew?" Reuben said, increasingly nervous.

"What meat? Are you really braindead as I was told?" Mr. Dal snorted and took off the other glove as well.

Reuben grumbled with anger. "I dunno. Fuckin' pork? What do you have?!" he snapped.

Erik's reaction was immediate, and he slapped Reuben in the face. Hard. "Watch your tongue or it'll be only raw carrot."

Reuben clenched his jaw and looked down to the floor. He didn't know what to say. He didn't appreciate anyone calling him stupid.

"Now. That's more like it," said Erik after a moment of silence. "White or rye bread?

"White," he uttered, not wanting another hit.

"Good." Erik ran his hand through Reuben's hair, massaging his scalp with gentle fingers.

Reuben's eyes shot up in shock and he leaned away, not sure what was happening. Erik made a move as if to follow him, but there was a knock at the door and he sighed, looking back.

"What is it?"

The door opened, revealing a good-looking blond man in the same outfit as Jack. His pointy chin was covered by bright stubble, and when he opened his mouth, Reuben noticed he was missing a fang.

"It's your brother, Master," he said with a curt bow.

Erik groaned, letting his head fall back as he moved a bit in frustration.

"Get him ready," he finally said to Jack before leaving the room.

Reuben turned a deflated look to the boy, who answered with a delicate smile.

"Get into the bathroom." Jack went over to the corner to pick up something that looked like a small pot connected to the wall with a cable. He held it in front of his mouth and spoke: "It's Jack. The master wants pork stew and white bread for his new..." He trailed off to look at Reuben, but as the 'pot' emitted a sound in response, the boy just nodded to himself and placed it back on a small shelf.