Stray didn’t even have time to scream.

One minute she was at the threshold to her quarters, Logan’s hand just about to grip her arm and pull her back inside-

And the next she was in a dark, airless cavern. Heart pounding loudly in her ears, her breath coming in frantic little pants. Her skin was tingling as the last of the Dove’s Heart potion wore off and her Curse roared back into life with a vengeance, snapping and snarling and sucking at the unprotected flesh of the person was man-handling her-

But nothing happened.

For the first time since it had manifested Stray cursed her Gift for not causing harm.

She just had time to register that she was being moved before she was set on her back on something cold and hard- she suspected a stone table. The hands which had grabbed her moving away, padding feet the only sound in the darkness. Spots appeared before her eyes as he broke contact and she sagged, all the strength going out of her. She tried to scream but terror silenced her: With rising panic she realised that every inch of her flesh was fixed to the stone table. A dull light seemed to be centred on her chest from somewhere above her: The damson-red hands of her kidnapper appeared again, some oil glistening on his fingertips though his face remained hidden. He flicked three drops of the liquid onto her forehead, muttering something low and vicious-with-longing in the same language Gold used the night she tried to drive out Stray. The oil burnt vaguely where it touched the girl’s skin, the sensation of it sickening. It seemed to seep through her flesh like molten metal, making her bones feel brittle and fragile and weak. For a moment there was only discomfort but then-With a hiss Stray felt fire lace through her. The pain spilling into her bloodstream, angry and vicious like molten smoke. Despite herself she let out a low, harsh yell of pain, every swear word she’d ever heard from Logan spilling from her lips.

Her kidnapper made a pleased, surprised little growl that set every hair on the back of her neck on end.

“You’re going to be such a good little maid for us, Stray,” she heard him whisper then. “Oh, you’re going to be so very good for us…”

And the girl felt burning hot, sulphur-perfumed breath move over her skin, her throat. Her lips. A heavy hand which sported a set of tar-black, vicious looking nails slipping and sliding down her cheek, its trajectory threading through her breasts to come to a rest at her hip. For a moment the hands were still, resting, testing her flesh, it seemed to her- And then sharp, tearing claws raked across her belly. The scratch vicious enough to draw blood, scarlet threading through her gown. Again she snarled in pain and as she watched the red-skinned hand reached into the gore, dabbing it onto his fingers with an almost courtly delicacy-

The hand disappeared into the darkness again and Stray heard the distinct sound of a mouth licking, sucking.

She felt her stomach flip in disgust at what those sounds must mean.

Footsteps sounded to her left then, heavy and clearly masculine. By the sound of it another man was approaching though she still couldn’t see anything beyond the pool of dull light centred on her chest. Her kidnapper moved away from her, his pace brisk and slightly harried. She had heard neither door opening nor closing but within moments both men were beside her, their breath eager in the dark. A new voice, deeper and more drawling than her kidnapper’s, muttered a few words in Gold’s harsh language: Immediately the dull light centred on Stray spread out a little, illuminating a pool of brightness the length of her body across. She saw the red hands which had taken her, still traced with her blood and wicked-looking-

And then the newcomer who had spoken in Gold’s language stepped into the light, and Stray had to stifle another scream.

He was tall, far taller than Logan. Taller even than Lord David had been- And that boy had been thin and long as a rake. Every inch of his skin was a deep, dark crimson, tar-dark tattoos swirling and undulating all across his flesh. Forming and reforming symbols in an alphabet that Stray had never seen before. In an alphabet she doubted anyone mortal could read. His eyes glowed a fiery gold and his mouth was drawn into a wide, terrifying rictus-grin; His hair was a filthy, dull straw colour and hung almost down to his waist. That smile widened and the air around him seemed to practically vibrate with heat and brimstone and, and… wrongness-

“Hello, little chatelaine,” he muttered, his voice that of Logan. His features rippled and suddenly the face of her beloved wolf was looking down at her. It made her heart clench. “It’s so good to see you again,” he drawled lasciviously, “And in the exact same position as the last time we shared company-”

Stray did the only thing she could do: She spit in his face.

He reached out his thumb, collecting the spittle, and brought it down to smear across her lower lip.

Swift as lightning he kissed her then, his lips burning against her forehead. The panic Stray had been keeping such a tight leash on bubbling to the surface. Terror making her entire body quake. Because she knew what this creature was: He was Erlkind, one of the Goblin Men spoken of in the old stories. One of those who tempted and harmed mortals, for they were jealous of their loving hearts and ability to grow old and wise. And if he were such a being she was in a lot of trouble- Once marked by the Erlkind your soul was not your own. She began to fight, trying desperately to get loose. She could feel the skin tearing as she tried to rise from the table but the pain didn’t make her stop. Her struggles seemed to please the False Logan though, his grin growing wider. His hands moving over her, bruising and hurting and burning and aching and wrong. His eyes became brighter, his excitement growing. With a low, dark chuckle her kidnapper joined him, his nails scratching and scraping but not yet tearing open her flesh. In the light Stray could see that he too was covered in those swirling tattoos, his eyes sickly yellow, his flesh rank with the scent of brimstone. His face reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on who…

“You must admit, My Lord Mephisto,” he was saying, “A display of spirit in one so young is diverting-”

“Oh, I assure you Lord Azazel, this one scratches like a Hell-cat.” Mephisto’s grin was insulting. “And that’s not all she does like a Hellcat, you may be sure of that.”

Stray would never know why what happened next happened. Maybe it was some lingering magic from the Dove’s Heart potion. Maybe it was that talent for survival which Ororo had assured her burned beneath any Moonlight Key’s skin. Maybe the Goblins had even brushed off Logan’s cut-iron, triggering its protective magic yet again- There really was no way to know. But with a massive effort the girl managed to force herself upwards. The two Goblins giving almost comical hisses of surprise and freezing in their tracks. It lasted but a fraction of second, but that was all Stray needed; Without a moment’s hesitation she forced herself off the stone table, that same powerful, defined-by-wordlessness thing which had come upon her when she attacked Ororo in the Wolf Mother’s Cave hissing through her bones now. Her feet landing on Mephisto’s chest and kicking, her hands reaching out in a wide arc to scratch open Azazel’s face. Both men falling back under her onslaught, more perhaps from surprise than fright. Because while she might be hurt- nay, heartbroken- by what she’d found out about Logan and Gold, Stray knew that the woman who had followed him into the wildwood that night would not allow this to happen to her. She knew the thing which joined her nature to his would try to keep her safe. And Erlkind or no Erlkind that bastard Mephisto would not lay another finger on her-

She just managed to dash out of the circle of light when she ran smack into a hard, warm, clearly human chest.

She was going to fast that the impact knocked her backwards, her head landing back against stone with a painful, angry snap. Hands grabbed her in the darkness, hauling her to her feet. The fingers of one hand wrapping around her hair roughly, the other gripping both of her small hands in his and forcing them behind her back. Stray let out another string of curses, trying to force her opponent off-balance as Logan had once shown her. Unfortunately for her however his stance was sure and true. The newcomer forced her forward, picking her up and all but tossing her onto the table; He snarled something loudly in the same language the two Goblins had used and this time Stray literally froze- As in she could no longer physically move. She couldn’t even breath. The newcomer was scowling, his entire body alight and blazing like a bonfire. His eyes glowing red and merciless, the small horns poking from his head growing longer, more ram-like in the pall light.

“Are you two insane?” the newcomer was snarling at Mephisto and Azazel. “Have you any idea what she’ll do to us if anything happens to that girl?”

Mephisto stood up to his full height, his eyes glowering down at his opponent. The air seemed to shake around him and Stray could see, very faintly, the fiery outline of a pair of great, curled horns unfurling from his head. “Have a care, wizard,” he hissed, “And mind who you give your orders to.” He gestured to the tattoos which covered his body, his teeth drawing back in a snarl. “Your plague-bitch may have put me in chains, little man, but that doesn’t mean I can’t rip you open-”

“I know well what you’re capable of, Lord of the Four Courts,” the newcomer muttered, “But I cannot allow your appetites to disrupt my Empress’ work.” And he pulled back his arm, showing the reddish-violet skin of a Goblin. Like Azazel and Mephisto’s though it was threaded through with whorling, snaking tattoos. But his looked painful, burning. As if every time they traced another path they burned his skin from within as well as without. “You are not the only one in chains,” he murmured, his voice deathly quiet. “And you are not the only one who will be punished if the girl is left unfit to complete our Lady’s plans.” Both Azazel and Mephisto exchanged sullen, angry glances at that. “So for the sake of surviving the next few days both of you must learn to control yourselves-” The wizard’s eyes glinted in the pale light.

“After all, once I’m through with her she’ll not even think of fighting you.”

And with that he glided forward, his eyes so brightly yellow they burned nearly platinum. They came to rest on Stray and suddenly she could breath. “Stand up,” the wizard said quietly, and Stray quaked as her body obeyed him without her willing it. He held a long, intricately carved wooden casket out to her and she took it without telling her hands to move. “You will put this on,” the wizard said, “And then you will go and meet your new Mistress. She has gone through a lot of trouble to bring you here, Stray.”

And with that he gestured sharply, Azazel and Mephisto apparently magically impelled to follow him. The air behind him laced with the stench of brimstone and greed. Stray was weeping as she pulled the Goblin’s gown over her head but she could not stop herself-

She closed her eyes and in her heart she gave a long, lonely, wolf-sung-with-anguish howl.