When Bianca regained consciousness, she was in so much pain that for a moment she didn't even think about the others. She was shackled to a post by one ankle with a length of chain. Her whole right arm throbbed and she was unable to move it. Her wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, she had a splitting headache, and her whole body throbbed with pain. To add insult to injury, the hearth was unlit and she shivered on the chilly earthen floor. She struggled to her feet, surprised by how difficult it was to rise with only one good arm. Once up, she shuffled to the door. Her chain was just long enough to allow her to open the door and step out a few feet.
Outside the sun was just rising. She could see a few stalls of the market from where she stood, but they were empty. Seeing no one else around, she undid her pants and crouched to relieve herself. Redoing her pants single handed was tricky, but she managed it well enough. While she was still standing there, a man with horns on his head passed by her. He did a double-take, then spoke, “So you’re finally awake, Ice Maker.”
“My name’s Bianca,” her heart was pounding, but she tried to appear calm. “Where are my friends?”
“Nice to meet you, Bianca,” the man pumped her left hand. “The witch and the hot head went home. The wolf man wasn't so lucky.”
The memories seemed to come back in jagged pieces: Tate lunging at a man and tearing out his throat. Blood spurting from the Devil’s neck like a crack in a garden hose. Two gunshots. Tate’s body on the ground. Amber screaming.
“Did I-?” Bianca stopped mid sentence. She must have blacked out at that point, yet her mind kept showing her images that seemed to come from a dream: Jumping on the back of the gunman. Gouging at his eyes with her fingers. Being thrown off and landing on her right arm with a crunch.
“Yeah, you went a little psycho on us. I’m just glad you didn't bother me. I’m Mike, the guy with the fiddle.”
“You know the song, What If?” tears blurred her vision, and she stood in front of her captor and wept. She would never hear Tate play again. “Can I see him?” she croaked.
“See who?” Mike’s forehead creased in confusion.
Before he could answer, a golden haired woman with white wings appeared behind him. “Mike,” the angel cooed, “I want to see my latest acquisition.”
“Yes, Ms. President,” Mike ushered Bianca inside the cabin. He placed a pail of water in front of her, “Make this into ice.”
Bianca dipped her left hand into the water. She was still sniffling and the cool water made her shiver. After a few minutes, she looked in the pail, confused. The water remained water. Not only did it fail to freeze, it felt warmer.
“She should have some thing by now. I was promised results in five minutes,” the angel approached her, placing a fair hand on her forehead, “I thought that Ice Maidens were cool to the touch, like a dead body. You feel normal.” She turned to Mike, her wings twitching with annoyance, “Get two other Devils and take her to the Order of the Ellipse at the border. What a waste of effort. My whole summer is ruined.” She stalked out the door with a flounce.
Mike followed the angel out of the cabin, leaving Bianca with her thoughts. Either she couldn't make ice because she was too injured, or she was no longer cursed. She stared blankly into the pail. Could a curse be removed?
After an indeterminate amount of time spent crying from both physical and emotional pain, Bianca heard the door open again. She wiped her eyes and found herself looking at a female Devil carrying a hammer and a large pair of piers. Bianca backed away from her, cowering in the farthest corner of the room.
“Don't look so afraid, Hon’,” the woman stopped next to the hearth, scooping coal into the hearth. “I’m gonna undo your chain so they can move you,” she held one of the coals until it burst into flames. Tossing the burning coal in the hearth, she picked up the slack part of Bianca’s chain. “I keep saying that there’s got to be someone in Egregia who knows how to make a lock and key, but does anyone listen to me? No, no,” she held the chain over the fire with the tongs, “Nobody listens to me.”
While the woman was working, Bianca examined the shackle around her ankle. It was a single piece of metal wrapped around her just loose enough to slide up to her calf muscle. “What about this?” Bianca tried to pull it over her heel unsuccessfully, “You can’t really put me in the fire.”
“I don’t know if you get to take that off,” the other woman glanced at her, “I was just told to prepare you to be transported.”
The door opened and Mike popped his head in, “Smithy, want to go to the border?”
“Who’s gonna watch Anabelle?”
“You can bring her along,” Mike pointed at Bianca, “We’re turning her over to the Order, so she’s not going to be a problem.” He looked at Bianca, “Are you?”
Bianca shook her head.
“Well, I really want to go, so okay,” Smithy smiled, her eyes glowing red with excitement.
“I’ll pack your stuff,” Mike ducked out of the room.
“Can I ask you something, Smithy?” Bianca bit her lower lip.
“Sure Hon’, what’s up?”
“The wolf man? Do you know what they did with his body?” Bianca bit down harder until she tasted blood.
“They gave it to the witch. We’re not monsters you know,” Smithy used the claw of the hammer to pry a link of the chain open. It was glowing orange from the heat as it changed from a solid into a liquid.
Bianca felt the rusty taste of blood turn salty in her mouth. She swallowed hard and forced herself to think about the future. If her curse was gone, then she would be allowed back in Citadel. She could return home, pick up life where she left off. For a senseless moment she wondered if her office had already filled her position.
The door opened again, interrupting Bianca’s thoughts. A little Devil girl, about seven years old shyly peeked into the cabin. “Come in Anabelle, just mind the fire,” Smithy smiled at the girl. Anabelle skittered across the room, grabbing her mother around the waist. One red eye peeked out from behind Smithy’s legs, staring at Bianca warily. “You don’t need to be afraid,” Smithy remarked.
“Daddy said it’s time to go,” the little girl mumbled.
“Come on then, Ice Maker,” Smithy shuffled to the door, the little girl still clinging to her waist. Bianca followed behind them, her broken chain trailing like a jingling tail.
Mike and another Devil waited outside with a cart. The wagon was covered with a domed canvas top and four horses were hitched to the front. “Where did you get horses?” Bianca stared at the animals. They were sedate looking, with barrel-chests and short legs.
“The Devils have connections in Citadel.” Mike pointed at the wagon, “Think you can climb in there, or do I need to help you?”
“Uh,” Bianca looked at the side of the wagon. It stood about four feet off the ground. There was no way she could navigate it with only one good arm. “Don’t you have a ladder or something?”
“Or something,” Mike smirked at her, “Meaning I’ll have to help you get in.”
The other Devils had already scampered up the side of the wagon. Mike grabbed her around the waist and hefted her up the side of the wagon. Smithy grabbed her arms, eliciting a scream from Bianca.
“Sorry,” Smithy grabbed her by the shirt instead, “I forgot you had a broken arm.”
“That hurts too,” groaned Bianca. She grasped the side of the wagon with her left hand, pulling herself up as best as she could. Once she scrambled onto the platform, she lay in place moaning. Everything hurt, but her arm was on fire, pain burning its way down to the bone.
Mike hopped into the wagon deftly. “That guy,” he pointed at the man taking the reins, “is Carl. He’s good with the horses. You already met my wife, Smithy, and my daughter, Anabelle.”
Bianca moaned in response.
“Oh, that’s right, you like the fiddle, don’t you?” Mike dug around in the supplies packed into the rear of the wagon. Carl flicked his reins and made a clicking sound with his tongue. The wagon started to sway as the horses trotted forward. The movement made Bianca even more uncomfortable, and she frantically tried to brace herself as she jostled against the sides of the wagon. Mike pulled out his fiddle and started to play. Fingers of music wound around Bianca’s consciousness, pulling her down through the bottom of the wagon, immersing her in a warm sea of earth.
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