Annoying noises poked at Netriet’s unconscious state. She was deeply submerged in a dark and quiet place, but the distant noise hooked through her flesh, pulling her toward the surface. The closer she came to waking, the more her subconscious fought against it. As the surface loomed, the pain began screaming. She imprisoned a cry in her throat. All that escaped her mouth was a shuddering hiss. The sounds and the smells slapped her with the awful truth of where she still was before she opened her eyes. Keeping her eyelids clamped shut she reached around herself, groping for the arm that was no longer there. Her hand passed through the space where her arm should have been, and she found the strength to weep.
The resonance of two voices drew her attention. One was the familiar gruff, commanding tone of Philippe. The other was new to Netriet’s ears. Flat like some strange type of automation, it gave Netriet a deep sense of dread. When she finally opened her eyes, everything looked hazy. Philippe sat at the far end of the chamber in his high backed chair, rolling the collar between his thumb and index finger. The figure belonging to the flat voice stood in front of him with his back to her.
“Oh look, my little pet is awake!” Philippe said jovially.
The figure turned and locked his eyes on Netriet. She instantly pulled back a little farther under the pelt she was covered with. He was the smallest werewolf she had ever seen, with weak shoulders, and eyes as flat as his voice. He didn’t look as wolfish in his man form as most did; he looked like part rat.
“Nettie, this is Ambassador Marius. He’s just returned from Paradigm, and he’s got the answer we’ve been looking for.”
Netriet said nothing and curled up tighter. Ambassador Marius stared at her with his dead eyes. She hoped Philippe would send him away. Her gaze shifted pleadingly onto Philippe for a split second, something Ambassador Marius noticed.
“I find the fact that you thought to keep her most fascinating,” Marius said.
Philippe merely grunted.
“And you’ve been using her to try to figure out how to master the collar, experimenting on her?” His voice gave its first inflection when he’d said the word ‘experimenting,' like a slithering caress.
“Yes. I’m glad I didn’t kill her, she’s been very useful, and she’s often quite witty too.”
“How nice,” Marius said flatly. “Can I see the collar?” He held his hand out to Philippe, who dropped the ring into his hand.
Marius held it up close to his face and twisted it all the way around. “Yes, yes. I can see why you’ve had trouble with this given that you had no instruction. Damn wizards think they’re so clever. See here, around the stone, the engravings in the wizard’s language? I don’t understand all of the words, but there is one I have no doubt about. This one.” He indicated which character he was talking about to Philippe with his pinky finger. “It means ‘teeth.’”
“Teeth?”
“Yes. This collar will not recognize you as its master until you have allowed it to bite you.”
“Bite me?” Philippe sounded alarmed. “What do you mean, bite me?”
“You must put it on one of your own fingers and press down on the stone. The spikes inside the band will pierce your skin and absorb a small amount of your blood. You see how the stone is clear? Once it has accepted you as its master, the stone will change colors. There’s no knowing what color it will become. I assume the stone was colored when this messenger arrived?”
“Uh, yeah. It was a yellowish color,” Philippe said.
Ambassador Marius handed the collar back to Philippe who looked at the object dubiously for the first time.
“So, once I’m its new master, how do I give it a task?” Philippe asked.
“When you have someone you want to perform a task, all you have to do is slip it on. It won’t bite you a second time. Tell the collar, inside your mind—there is no need to speak aloud—what the person is to do, and the collar will change colors again. It will remain the color it changes until the task is completed or the collared person dies.”
“And what will happen if the person dies far away from me and I cannot get the collar back?” Philippe asked.
Ambassador Marius shrugged. “There is no way to claim the collar forever unless you never use it. It will eventually pass on to someone else, but if the people you use it on are able to stay alive, then you may have control of it for a long time.”
Philippe grunted as he considered Ambassador Marius’ words. “Thank you, Marius. You may leave now.”
Netriet watched as Marius bowed and turned to leave. He hesitated for a second, looking down at her lying on Philippe’s bed. She shivered again under his gaze. Why didn’t he just leave? His eyes were like zombies, dead things mindlessly trying to devour anything living.
Philippe noticed Marius’ staring at her. “You are bound to silence, Marius. You may tell no one about her.”
“What are you going to do with her now that you know how to work the collar?” he asked, not taking his eyes off her.
“That is none of your concern,” Philippe said icily.
“I only asked because I was wondering if I could have her?”
“Why?”
“The same reason you’ve kept her. I have a few experiments of my own I’d like to try.”
Netriet looked pleadingly and panic stricken at Philippe. No matter how he had tortured her or how much she hated him, she would rather spend the last little bit of her miserable life with him than the likes of Ambassador Marius.
Philippe noticed her panic and understood it. “I’m not yet finished with her, Marius,” he said dismissively. “Be sure to have the cook provide you with dinner on your way out.”
Marius lingered a second longer before he slunk out the chamber door.
Philippe came over to her and sat down on the edge of the bed. He pulled the wolf pelt down so he could examine the stump just below her shoulder. Then he looked sharply in her eyes with the examining gaze of a doctor. “You’re still very weak, but you are better.” He smiled wickedly. “I see you took quite a liking to Ambassador Marius.”
Netriet gave him a droll stare, and he laughed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this weird codependency they seemed to have formed. The thing she feared most was that his affection for her had mutated into something so unnatural that he would try to keep her alive indefinitely and keep her with him like a real pet.
“So let’s see if Marius was right about this thing,” he said holding the collar up close to his face.
He slid the large ring onto his smallest finger, his others being entirely too big to fit, and pushed down on the clear stone. She heard the spikes engage, and Philippe grimaced but took the pain like a man. The stone swirled with red that she was sure was his blood then it turned a solid black. The faint sound of metal on metal told her that the spikes receded, and Philippe pulled the collar off his finger. He held his pinky up for her to see the little puncture wounds encircling his finger before putting it in his mouth and giving it a little suck.
“Nasty little thing isn’t it?” he asked.
She gave him a dirty look. “No, not at all,” she said sarcastically. “It only cost me my arm.”
He laughed again. “Okay, you’re right, you win.” He looked at her seriously then. “Are you ready?” he asked.
She sighed and reached up with her remaining hand. He took it and pulled her into a sitting position. The room tilted sickeningly for a moment.
“I’m going to give you a task that I know you could never do without being collared. Well, at least not convincingly.” He put the ring back on his finger and closed his eyes, telling the collar what he wanted her to do inside his head. Then he put it on her middle finger. The collar’s teeth bit down into her flesh.
“This is going to be hard for you, but if you don’t succeed, I’ll just have to chop off your arm again. Failure is not your ticket out of here, Nettie. I won’t let it kill you. Now, tell me you love me.” Philippe ordered.
"That is my task?"
"Yes. Convince me."
Hate and bile rose in the back of Netriet’s throat. And she wondered, just how badly did she want to keep her arm?