Fic: The Hunt 2/2
Mar. 31st, 2011 11:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonyphoenixTitle: The Hunt 2/2
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Lindsey, Wesley, Giles, Ethan, Spike
Rating: R
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Warnings/Squicks: gang bang non-con, a touch of incest, man hunting man, death of a major character (I think I got them all!)
Summary: evil!Giles has a ritual to make his nephew, Wesley, into a man
Note: Written for a prompt at Darker Vault: sacrifice
Note: Sequel to Ash Carpenter's story Property, and you'd think I'd be able to read her stories without having to write at least two sequels, going off in different and mutually exclusive directions, to each one!
Note: I can't believe I wrote the very clichéd man-hunting-man trope.
“Dearheart,” Ethan said. “He can't go out like that. He can barely stand.”
Giles, looking at Lindsey dispassionately, replied, “I suppose you're right.” More quickly than Lindsey's worn out mind could follow, Giles had shoved a finger up his ass. Lindsey screamed from the pain of it until a soothing warmth filled him, leaving his ass feeling good, as if he'd never been raped.
As Giles turned to wash his hands in a bowl at the side of the room, Ethan led Lindsey out of The Alcove. Wesley was off to one side, a brandy in hand, with an older man, one whose kiss had been perfunctory. Those two ignored Lindsey but the rest of the eyes in the room turned on him, staring, a few riding crops whipping against pant legs at the sight of him. “Run,” Ethan said.
“What?” Lindsey turned to look at him.
“We're going to hurt you,” Ethan said. “The only way to avoid it is to run, oh but one caveat, stay in the room if you want to avoid real pain.”
Lindsey took a few jogging steps, shouting out in pain as something hit his leg. As he turned Ethan was there, wielding his crop like a sword, striking Lindsey right and left until he fell to the floor, covering himself with his arms. “Oh, you aren't going to be good at this at all,” Ethan said mournfully. “Get up,” he added.
As Lindsey stood, he noticed that every man in the room had a crop. He ran, taking blow after blow, dodging around the men, scanning the room for less populated areas as the men continued to strike at him. Spotting an empty corner, he bolted for it, realizing his mistake too late as the men gathered around, boxing him in. As the blows rained down, Lindsey fell to the floor, dragging himself to the corner, protecting himself as best he could until the gong sounded once again. “That's enough,” Giles shouted, pulling men off as he made his way to the corner. “Leave some for tomorrow.” As the crowd dispersed, Lindsey's eyes drifted shut.
When he woke Spike was slathering antibiotic on the worst of the cuts the crops had left. “Should eat,” the vampire said, his gaze on the crop marks. “You'll need your strength.”
Lindsey sat up with a wince. “Thought they were done with me.”
Spike froze for a moment and then turned his head further away. “Not quite yet.”
“What is it?” Lindsey asked. Spike had never refused to look at him before. “What are they planning?”
“When you hear the gong, head outside, right out the front door. They'll be waiting for you.” Standing, Spike started walking to the door.
“Outside?”
Spike stopped, turning his head back partway. “I wouldn't try to make for the gate if I were you. Don't know for sure, but he's probably magicked it up so you can't step off his property. The woods might be your best bet, that or water to hide your scent.”
“Huh?”
“Doesn't matter to me if you eat or not, but you'll be better off if you do. I asked the cook to serve up a plate of stuff I know you like.”
After Spike had left, Lindsey looked the plate over: roast beef still pink at the center, asparagus, some type of potato appetizer, shrimp. Spike must have taken it off of the spread left out for Giles' guests. Lindsey wondered what would make him take such a risk.
He'd cleaned off the plate and was listening closely, knowing it wouldn't help him figure out what was going on but too worried to stop himself, until the gong sounded. He briefly thought about staying where he was, of making Giles send someone for him, but that someone would be Spike and, well, the vampire had enough troubles.
They were waiting. The courtyard was full of men on horseback, each wearing the formal hunting gear they'd had on the previous night. Ethan sidestepped his horse over. “Ah, and here's our brightly colored fox, at last.”
“Wesley,” Giles snapped. “Explain.”
Sliding off his horse, Wesley walked over to Lindsey.
“Oh good God,” Ethan exclaimed. “One simply does not meet prey on an equal level. Didn't you learn any etiquette?”
“Prey?” Lindsey asked, staring straight at Wesley, relieved when the man returned his stare. At least someone in this place saw him.
“You run,” Wesley said, nodding toward the woods, reinforcing Spike's suggestion that he head that way. “Hide. There are a couple of dry wells...”
“Wesley,” Giles shouted.
Lindsey didn't ask what would happen if he didn't run. He knew Giles could always make his life significantly worse, not that the bastard needed a reason but giving him an excuse was plain stupid.
Wesley's lips formed the words “Good luck” before he turned to get back on his horse.
Lindsey took a couple of steps forward, keeping his gaze on Giles as he moved, but the man was speaking with Ethan, smiling and brushing something off of his lover's collar. Lindsey picked up the pace, shifting into a jog, and nobody tried to stop him. Glancing right and then left, he broke out into a run, heading for the trees but angling his path so he'd hit them where they came closest to the gate. Spike could have been wrong, and if Lindsey did make the road, then he could figure out how to get someone to pick up a naked hitchhiker with a snake's skin.
As he ran across the meadow, Lindsey felt their stares, tracking his path, working out the easiest way to catch him. Going for the gate had been stupid and would probably get him boxed in but, if it worked, it seemed like his best bet. As he reached for one of the metal posts, he heard a horn sound from the house. He pushed himself forward, determined to escape but his hand bounced back. He threw himself at the gate but bounced back, barely keeping on his feet. Spike had been right; he couldn't escape the property.
Turning his head, looking over his shoulder, Lindsey saw the men riding toward him. Shit! They'd reach him in no time. He dashed for the woods, wishing he'd headed there in the first place. He'd taken about a dozen steps in, relieved that the leaf covering was protecting his feet from roots and sticks when a sharp pain toppled him to the ground. Pulling up his foot, he saw blood and then glass. “Fuckers,” he shouted and then froze, certain he'd given his position away.
He couldn't hear the hunters, which didn't make sense. They should be right on him and a crowd that big? No way they'd be quiet. Tossing the glass aside, he felt around lightly, finding more glass so he crawled, figuring it was better to cut up his hands and knees than his feet. Once he couldn't feel any more glass, he stood, leaning against a tree to help himself up. He hissed, gritting his teeth, as he put his foot down and scanned the area. Someplace to hide would be best but there was nothing in sight beside trees. He was thinking about climbing a tree, trying to hide up above the hunt, when a whoosh made him turn his head. There was an arrow, quivering in the tree, just inches away. With the adrenaline kicking in, the barely noticed the pain in his foot as he ran into the woods.
He was panting and dripping with sweat by the time he found the stream, ankle-deep water burbling over rocks. Glancing over his shoulder at the sound of baying hounds, he leaped in, slipping on the mossy stones and falling onto his side. Holding his ribs as he sat up, he figured he'd better crawl. He'd be less likely to slip and it'd keep his head down, making him harder to see.
As he turned into the fifth bend in the stream, Lindsey spotted a man ahead of him, at the break where the stream fed into a small pond. Thanking his lucky stars that the man was facing the other way, Lindsey backed up as quietly as he could until the man was out of sight and then began looking around for a place to hide, not wanting to retrace his steps. About three feet back a tree stood above the stream, it's roots overhanging above the water, creating a small hideyhole. Lindsey ducked under, slightly chilled by the water, deeper there, as he sat down and breathed a sigh of relief, glad for the chance to stop and think.
Wondering what they were going to do to him when they caught him and if the length of the hunt would make any difference in that, he thought through his options. He could keep moving, hoping to find a way off of Giles' estate although given what had happened at the gate it was likely the whole place was shielded to keep him in. He could give up, making it look like they'd found him since he was sure deliberately shortening Giles' game wouldn't be looked upon with favor, but they were gonna do whatever they were gonna do to him; nothing he did could change that. Maybe it would be best to get this hunt over with.
As he started thinking through how he could give himself up, Lindsey had a revelation. This hunt was the closest he'd been to freedom since his bosses had sold him off. Once he was back in that house, he might never have a chance like this again, this time alone, where nobody knew where he was, where he was free, well mostly to hide and run, but his choices were his own. He wasn't going to give that up.
At the sound of splashing, he drew back against the roots, further into the darkness. Looking out over the stream, he saw horse legs passing by and a rider's foot in a stirrup. They turned into the next bend and, by the lack of splashing, stopped. “You there, have you seen anything?”
“No sir.” Apparently the other man was still there and, even more important, he'd been set there to wait for Lindsey.
“Yes,” the rider replied dryly. “I'm sure gazing off across the pond made it easy for you to spot him traveling down the stream.”
“Yes sir, I mean no sir, I mean I wasn't...” Lindsey heard the crop swish through the air and then the smack as it struck. “Please sir, no,” the man shouted as the crop hit him four more times.
Lindsey thought about Spike's words, something about it being dangerous and not just for him.
“What'd he see?” There was a second rider, up on the land above the stream.
“Nothing,” the first said. “The idiot wasn't paying attention.”
“He'll never do that again,” the second replied, “but you could have saved some for the rest of us.”
“Has he been found?”
“No. Giles thinks he might have climbed out from the stream into the trees and come down further out. We've got the dogs sniffing around for a scent now, back this way.”
Waiting until he was sure the men were gone, Lindsey snuck out from under the tree, his gaze darting everywhere as he made his way to the bend. The man he'd seen earlier was floating face down. Dead. They wanted him dead. He thought back to Wesley's words. The Oak King kills the Holly King. They'd taken the holly off of Wesley and put it on his head. “I'm the Holly King?” He thought of how evasive Spike had been. The bastard must have known. Why couldn't he have said something? Then he thought of what Spike had done, the food he'd brought. Spike had told him; Lindsey just hadn't understood. The vampire had brought him a last meal.
He couldn't stay there. They knew he was in the stream. The woods wouldn't do. He had to get further away without leaving a scent. The pond, he could swim into the pond. Maybe he could find a hollow reed to help him breathe while he held himself under. Or perhaps they wouldn't see him if he swam to the middle, although he wasn't sure how long he could tread water. There was a meadow past the far edge of the lake, not much cover, but there were woods behind that. They wouldn't be searching for him over there.
As he swam into the lake, diving into the deeper water as he left the stream behind, Lindsey decided on the breast stroke. He didn't know much about swimming and the only other strokes he knew, the forward and back strokes, would raise his arms out of the water, making him easier to see. This might be slower, which was problematic in and of itself, but keeping himself hidden seemed safer.
When he was close enough to the other side that he could stand, Lindsey scanned all around the lake, checking for anyone who might be looking for him. The coast seemed to be clear. He'd had time to think during his swim and had decided that crawling across the meadow, keeping as close to the ground as possible until he was hidden by the far trees, would be his best bet. Just like in the water, not being seen was the only way he could get through.
He was about a third of the way across the meadow when he heard the thundering of hooves. Freezing, scrunching down as close to the ground as he could, and closing his eyes even though that wouldn't make him harder to see, he started praying. “Dear Lord, I know we haven't spoken since Momma, well, you know, but I'm asking You now, for her sake if not for mine, if You could get me outta this here mess...”
“It took you long enough to lallygag your way across the lake.” It was Ethan's voice. Lindsey opened his eyes. The riders were between him and the woods but the way back to the lake was clear. He wasn't sure where he could go from there but at this point even drowning in the lake was preferable to dying at their hands.
As he started backing away, the horn sounded. He kept moving, inching backwards, hoping they didn't notice until he was close enough to beat them to the water, but the hounds came before he could move. He heard them baying as they ran into view. From around behind the horses, they circled around him, boxing him in. As Lindsey raised his hands, signaling his surrender, he hoped he was wrong, that they weren't about to kill him. There was a sharp whistle from the crowd and then one of the dogs was on him, biting at his leg. As Lindsey shoved it off, a second bit down on the other leg, tearing off a good chunk of flesh. Lindsey screamed as he fell to the ground. As he tried to stand, to get on his legs and defend himself, he fell again. Pulling his leg up into his lap, he saw the dog had taken out the back of his ankle, his tendon. He'd never stand on that leg again.
As the dogs fell back, Lindsey sat up as best he could, wiping tears from his eyes so he could see the bastards. Giles and Wesley were standing close, only two feet from where he lay on the ground. “This is where you define the kind of man you will be. If you slit his throat, you claim the kill for yourself alone. On the other hand, you could cut him here, here, or here.” Giles marked three circles across Lindsey's torso. “Any of these locations will deal a death blow, but one that won't kill him immediately, giving your brothers,” he gestured at the gathered hunters, “an opportunity to share in the kill.” Handing Wesley a knife, Giles said, “The choice is yours.”
“No, please, don't,” Lindsey begged, reaching back with his arms and pushing, dragging himself away from the hunters as best he could. “Wesley, you're not like them. Please don't.”
Clenching the knife before his chest, Wesley looked up at the hunters, scanning their faces. When he looked down at Lindsey, his own face had hardened. “No,” Lindsey shouted as the knife stabbed down, striking below his ribs.
“Good lad,” Giles said, a fucking smile on his face as he slapped Wesley on the shoulder. When Wesley tried to give the knife back, Giles added, “No, that's yours now. My gift to you.” Reaching down, he shoved two fingers into Lindsey's wound. As Giles stood again, facing Wesley, Lindsey tried to drag himself away, pushing himself up only to fall back to the ground. The hunters circled around Lindsey, their silver knives shining in the sunlight. Giles brushed the fingers across Wesley's cheeks, first one on the left and then the other on the right, leaving two streaks of blood behind. “Now you are truly a man.”
The knives dove down, striking their prey.
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Lindsey, Wesley, Giles, Ethan, Spike
Rating: R
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Warnings/Squicks: gang bang non-con, a touch of incest, man hunting man, death of a major character (I think I got them all!)
Summary: evil!Giles has a ritual to make his nephew, Wesley, into a man
Note: Written for a prompt at Darker Vault: sacrifice
Note: Sequel to Ash Carpenter's story Property, and you'd think I'd be able to read her stories without having to write at least two sequels, going off in different and mutually exclusive directions, to each one!
Note: I can't believe I wrote the very clichéd man-hunting-man trope.
“Dearheart,” Ethan said. “He can't go out like that. He can barely stand.”
Giles, looking at Lindsey dispassionately, replied, “I suppose you're right.” More quickly than Lindsey's worn out mind could follow, Giles had shoved a finger up his ass. Lindsey screamed from the pain of it until a soothing warmth filled him, leaving his ass feeling good, as if he'd never been raped.
As Giles turned to wash his hands in a bowl at the side of the room, Ethan led Lindsey out of The Alcove. Wesley was off to one side, a brandy in hand, with an older man, one whose kiss had been perfunctory. Those two ignored Lindsey but the rest of the eyes in the room turned on him, staring, a few riding crops whipping against pant legs at the sight of him. “Run,” Ethan said.
“What?” Lindsey turned to look at him.
“We're going to hurt you,” Ethan said. “The only way to avoid it is to run, oh but one caveat, stay in the room if you want to avoid real pain.”
Lindsey took a few jogging steps, shouting out in pain as something hit his leg. As he turned Ethan was there, wielding his crop like a sword, striking Lindsey right and left until he fell to the floor, covering himself with his arms. “Oh, you aren't going to be good at this at all,” Ethan said mournfully. “Get up,” he added.
As Lindsey stood, he noticed that every man in the room had a crop. He ran, taking blow after blow, dodging around the men, scanning the room for less populated areas as the men continued to strike at him. Spotting an empty corner, he bolted for it, realizing his mistake too late as the men gathered around, boxing him in. As the blows rained down, Lindsey fell to the floor, dragging himself to the corner, protecting himself as best he could until the gong sounded once again. “That's enough,” Giles shouted, pulling men off as he made his way to the corner. “Leave some for tomorrow.” As the crowd dispersed, Lindsey's eyes drifted shut.
When he woke Spike was slathering antibiotic on the worst of the cuts the crops had left. “Should eat,” the vampire said, his gaze on the crop marks. “You'll need your strength.”
Lindsey sat up with a wince. “Thought they were done with me.”
Spike froze for a moment and then turned his head further away. “Not quite yet.”
“What is it?” Lindsey asked. Spike had never refused to look at him before. “What are they planning?”
“When you hear the gong, head outside, right out the front door. They'll be waiting for you.” Standing, Spike started walking to the door.
“Outside?”
Spike stopped, turning his head back partway. “I wouldn't try to make for the gate if I were you. Don't know for sure, but he's probably magicked it up so you can't step off his property. The woods might be your best bet, that or water to hide your scent.”
“Huh?”
“Doesn't matter to me if you eat or not, but you'll be better off if you do. I asked the cook to serve up a plate of stuff I know you like.”
After Spike had left, Lindsey looked the plate over: roast beef still pink at the center, asparagus, some type of potato appetizer, shrimp. Spike must have taken it off of the spread left out for Giles' guests. Lindsey wondered what would make him take such a risk.
He'd cleaned off the plate and was listening closely, knowing it wouldn't help him figure out what was going on but too worried to stop himself, until the gong sounded. He briefly thought about staying where he was, of making Giles send someone for him, but that someone would be Spike and, well, the vampire had enough troubles.
They were waiting. The courtyard was full of men on horseback, each wearing the formal hunting gear they'd had on the previous night. Ethan sidestepped his horse over. “Ah, and here's our brightly colored fox, at last.”
“Wesley,” Giles snapped. “Explain.”
Sliding off his horse, Wesley walked over to Lindsey.
“Oh good God,” Ethan exclaimed. “One simply does not meet prey on an equal level. Didn't you learn any etiquette?”
“Prey?” Lindsey asked, staring straight at Wesley, relieved when the man returned his stare. At least someone in this place saw him.
“You run,” Wesley said, nodding toward the woods, reinforcing Spike's suggestion that he head that way. “Hide. There are a couple of dry wells...”
“Wesley,” Giles shouted.
Lindsey didn't ask what would happen if he didn't run. He knew Giles could always make his life significantly worse, not that the bastard needed a reason but giving him an excuse was plain stupid.
Wesley's lips formed the words “Good luck” before he turned to get back on his horse.
Lindsey took a couple of steps forward, keeping his gaze on Giles as he moved, but the man was speaking with Ethan, smiling and brushing something off of his lover's collar. Lindsey picked up the pace, shifting into a jog, and nobody tried to stop him. Glancing right and then left, he broke out into a run, heading for the trees but angling his path so he'd hit them where they came closest to the gate. Spike could have been wrong, and if Lindsey did make the road, then he could figure out how to get someone to pick up a naked hitchhiker with a snake's skin.
As he ran across the meadow, Lindsey felt their stares, tracking his path, working out the easiest way to catch him. Going for the gate had been stupid and would probably get him boxed in but, if it worked, it seemed like his best bet. As he reached for one of the metal posts, he heard a horn sound from the house. He pushed himself forward, determined to escape but his hand bounced back. He threw himself at the gate but bounced back, barely keeping on his feet. Spike had been right; he couldn't escape the property.
Turning his head, looking over his shoulder, Lindsey saw the men riding toward him. Shit! They'd reach him in no time. He dashed for the woods, wishing he'd headed there in the first place. He'd taken about a dozen steps in, relieved that the leaf covering was protecting his feet from roots and sticks when a sharp pain toppled him to the ground. Pulling up his foot, he saw blood and then glass. “Fuckers,” he shouted and then froze, certain he'd given his position away.
He couldn't hear the hunters, which didn't make sense. They should be right on him and a crowd that big? No way they'd be quiet. Tossing the glass aside, he felt around lightly, finding more glass so he crawled, figuring it was better to cut up his hands and knees than his feet. Once he couldn't feel any more glass, he stood, leaning against a tree to help himself up. He hissed, gritting his teeth, as he put his foot down and scanned the area. Someplace to hide would be best but there was nothing in sight beside trees. He was thinking about climbing a tree, trying to hide up above the hunt, when a whoosh made him turn his head. There was an arrow, quivering in the tree, just inches away. With the adrenaline kicking in, the barely noticed the pain in his foot as he ran into the woods.
He was panting and dripping with sweat by the time he found the stream, ankle-deep water burbling over rocks. Glancing over his shoulder at the sound of baying hounds, he leaped in, slipping on the mossy stones and falling onto his side. Holding his ribs as he sat up, he figured he'd better crawl. He'd be less likely to slip and it'd keep his head down, making him harder to see.
As he turned into the fifth bend in the stream, Lindsey spotted a man ahead of him, at the break where the stream fed into a small pond. Thanking his lucky stars that the man was facing the other way, Lindsey backed up as quietly as he could until the man was out of sight and then began looking around for a place to hide, not wanting to retrace his steps. About three feet back a tree stood above the stream, it's roots overhanging above the water, creating a small hideyhole. Lindsey ducked under, slightly chilled by the water, deeper there, as he sat down and breathed a sigh of relief, glad for the chance to stop and think.
Wondering what they were going to do to him when they caught him and if the length of the hunt would make any difference in that, he thought through his options. He could keep moving, hoping to find a way off of Giles' estate although given what had happened at the gate it was likely the whole place was shielded to keep him in. He could give up, making it look like they'd found him since he was sure deliberately shortening Giles' game wouldn't be looked upon with favor, but they were gonna do whatever they were gonna do to him; nothing he did could change that. Maybe it would be best to get this hunt over with.
As he started thinking through how he could give himself up, Lindsey had a revelation. This hunt was the closest he'd been to freedom since his bosses had sold him off. Once he was back in that house, he might never have a chance like this again, this time alone, where nobody knew where he was, where he was free, well mostly to hide and run, but his choices were his own. He wasn't going to give that up.
At the sound of splashing, he drew back against the roots, further into the darkness. Looking out over the stream, he saw horse legs passing by and a rider's foot in a stirrup. They turned into the next bend and, by the lack of splashing, stopped. “You there, have you seen anything?”
“No sir.” Apparently the other man was still there and, even more important, he'd been set there to wait for Lindsey.
“Yes,” the rider replied dryly. “I'm sure gazing off across the pond made it easy for you to spot him traveling down the stream.”
“Yes sir, I mean no sir, I mean I wasn't...” Lindsey heard the crop swish through the air and then the smack as it struck. “Please sir, no,” the man shouted as the crop hit him four more times.
Lindsey thought about Spike's words, something about it being dangerous and not just for him.
“What'd he see?” There was a second rider, up on the land above the stream.
“Nothing,” the first said. “The idiot wasn't paying attention.”
“He'll never do that again,” the second replied, “but you could have saved some for the rest of us.”
“Has he been found?”
“No. Giles thinks he might have climbed out from the stream into the trees and come down further out. We've got the dogs sniffing around for a scent now, back this way.”
Waiting until he was sure the men were gone, Lindsey snuck out from under the tree, his gaze darting everywhere as he made his way to the bend. The man he'd seen earlier was floating face down. Dead. They wanted him dead. He thought back to Wesley's words. The Oak King kills the Holly King. They'd taken the holly off of Wesley and put it on his head. “I'm the Holly King?” He thought of how evasive Spike had been. The bastard must have known. Why couldn't he have said something? Then he thought of what Spike had done, the food he'd brought. Spike had told him; Lindsey just hadn't understood. The vampire had brought him a last meal.
He couldn't stay there. They knew he was in the stream. The woods wouldn't do. He had to get further away without leaving a scent. The pond, he could swim into the pond. Maybe he could find a hollow reed to help him breathe while he held himself under. Or perhaps they wouldn't see him if he swam to the middle, although he wasn't sure how long he could tread water. There was a meadow past the far edge of the lake, not much cover, but there were woods behind that. They wouldn't be searching for him over there.
As he swam into the lake, diving into the deeper water as he left the stream behind, Lindsey decided on the breast stroke. He didn't know much about swimming and the only other strokes he knew, the forward and back strokes, would raise his arms out of the water, making him easier to see. This might be slower, which was problematic in and of itself, but keeping himself hidden seemed safer.
When he was close enough to the other side that he could stand, Lindsey scanned all around the lake, checking for anyone who might be looking for him. The coast seemed to be clear. He'd had time to think during his swim and had decided that crawling across the meadow, keeping as close to the ground as possible until he was hidden by the far trees, would be his best bet. Just like in the water, not being seen was the only way he could get through.
He was about a third of the way across the meadow when he heard the thundering of hooves. Freezing, scrunching down as close to the ground as he could, and closing his eyes even though that wouldn't make him harder to see, he started praying. “Dear Lord, I know we haven't spoken since Momma, well, you know, but I'm asking You now, for her sake if not for mine, if You could get me outta this here mess...”
“It took you long enough to lallygag your way across the lake.” It was Ethan's voice. Lindsey opened his eyes. The riders were between him and the woods but the way back to the lake was clear. He wasn't sure where he could go from there but at this point even drowning in the lake was preferable to dying at their hands.
As he started backing away, the horn sounded. He kept moving, inching backwards, hoping they didn't notice until he was close enough to beat them to the water, but the hounds came before he could move. He heard them baying as they ran into view. From around behind the horses, they circled around him, boxing him in. As Lindsey raised his hands, signaling his surrender, he hoped he was wrong, that they weren't about to kill him. There was a sharp whistle from the crowd and then one of the dogs was on him, biting at his leg. As Lindsey shoved it off, a second bit down on the other leg, tearing off a good chunk of flesh. Lindsey screamed as he fell to the ground. As he tried to stand, to get on his legs and defend himself, he fell again. Pulling his leg up into his lap, he saw the dog had taken out the back of his ankle, his tendon. He'd never stand on that leg again.
As the dogs fell back, Lindsey sat up as best he could, wiping tears from his eyes so he could see the bastards. Giles and Wesley were standing close, only two feet from where he lay on the ground. “This is where you define the kind of man you will be. If you slit his throat, you claim the kill for yourself alone. On the other hand, you could cut him here, here, or here.” Giles marked three circles across Lindsey's torso. “Any of these locations will deal a death blow, but one that won't kill him immediately, giving your brothers,” he gestured at the gathered hunters, “an opportunity to share in the kill.” Handing Wesley a knife, Giles said, “The choice is yours.”
“No, please, don't,” Lindsey begged, reaching back with his arms and pushing, dragging himself away from the hunters as best he could. “Wesley, you're not like them. Please don't.”
Clenching the knife before his chest, Wesley looked up at the hunters, scanning their faces. When he looked down at Lindsey, his own face had hardened. “No,” Lindsey shouted as the knife stabbed down, striking below his ribs.
“Good lad,” Giles said, a fucking smile on his face as he slapped Wesley on the shoulder. When Wesley tried to give the knife back, Giles added, “No, that's yours now. My gift to you.” Reaching down, he shoved two fingers into Lindsey's wound. As Giles stood again, facing Wesley, Lindsey tried to drag himself away, pushing himself up only to fall back to the ground. The hunters circled around Lindsey, their silver knives shining in the sunlight. Giles brushed the fingers across Wesley's cheeks, first one on the left and then the other on the right, leaving two streaks of blood behind. “Now you are truly a man.”
The knives dove down, striking their prey.