bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,

Broken Circle

TITLE: Broken Circle
RATING: Adult for language and content
DISCLAIMER: The Bee has no rights or claim on any
of the characters or products named in this story and makes
no profit from them.
SUMMARY: This is the third story in the Rosebud/verse.
Tara has been abducted and the police rush to find her.
The other members of the Circle decide that they can do
a better job and begin their own investigation.
Who will find her first and will it be in time?

Praise and thanks to the wonderful Petxnd for the amazing banner

"Hi! I'll bet you thought we forgot all about you, didn't

Tara gave no response. Her brain had stopped functioning
on a rational reasonable level and the searing, body racking fear
was gone. Sometime within the last hour her mind had reached
a peak of terror that she could no longer process or exceed and,
in a primal form of self defense, Tara had gone into shock.

All alone in a dimly lit room and staring at the decaying corpse of
a satanic high priest, Tara's last thought had been the bizarre,
comic word, 'Beelzebub'.

She knew it was the word. The code word that Rita was
hoping to hear, but what she didn't realize was that Tara wasn't
getting it as a sacred message from the man sitting on the right
hand of the throne of hell. No, Tara had gotten the telepathic
information from Rita herself.

Her brain was screaming it. Shooting it out like bullets from
a tommy gun, rapid firing it into the ionosphere and praying it
will come back to her on the tongue of the 'chosen one.'

"Hey! You still in there?"
Rita frowned and waved her hand back and forth in front of
Tara's face, concerned that she was getting no reply.

"Oh, no. Don't you dare check out on me now!"
Rita soundly slapped Tara across the face leaving a bright red
hand print on her cheek. When that got no acknowledgement,
she did it twice more. With the last one, a small trickle of blood
from the corner of Tara's mouth brought a slight clearing of her eyes.

Rita gave a chuckle and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Wow, that's better. I was afraid for a minute your brain had taken
a shit around the same time you pissed your pants."

Tara blinked. Like a heavy fog, her brain slowly began to clear
and the dead cells, one by one, resumed function. Vaguely aware of
the sting of her cut lip, her attention wandered to the mentioned
wet bed beneath her.

Under other circumstances, Tara would have been mortified.
Now, however, she regarded the social faux pas as though it had
happened to someone else. There was no personal connection to
the physical events surrounding her.

Her heavy hooded eyes turned to Rita and watched impassionatly
as her captor hustled around the room.

"Well, I know you are as excited to get started as we are. You will
be thrilled to know that all the priests and several of their lessers
have arrived and are gathering in the basement. Now, obviously we
can't present you looking like that so I'm going to get you all cleaned

Tara turned her head, almost expecting Jim to jump up and join the
others. Then she frowned and tried to remember.
'Why am I here?' She tried to concentrate. 'Was there something
I was supposed to do?'
It was just all too confusing.

Rita laughed.
"Don't worry. He will be there too."

Tara relaxed back. For some odd reason that was an answer that
satisfied her.
Immediately Rita returned to the bed and began fussing with the
shackles that had stretched her arms high over her head for the last
several hours.

When released, Tara laid with them still in position. They were
numb, dead, and even if she had the mental where with all to move
them, she lacked the strength.

Quickly, Rita took first the right one then the left, placing them straight
down at Tara's sides. Within seconds, Tara screamed as the shocking
pain of the blood rushing back into them burned through her.

It was an agony that snapped her mind full force back into the present.

"Hurts like a bitch, don't it?"
Rita laughed like they were just two friends sharing an intimate joke.

Still unable to move and gritting her teeth against the electric bolts
that were shooting through her like lightning, Tara laid still, barely
aware that Rita was also unbuckling the leather straps from around
her ankles.

"Now, that's better isn't it?"
Rita stood back and smiled at her handiwork. Tara remained unmoving
as her muscles slowly tightened up. Both women knew if Tara didn't
get on her feet soon, she would lock up in spasms that would seriously
delay the evenings activities.

"Come on. I'll help you. We need to get you into the bathroom
to take a hot shower. You need to wash your hair, douche your
cooch and just in case one of the priests wants to fuck your ass,
I got an enema for you."

Tara turned her head to the side just in time as her stomach jerked
and she threw up wetting the pillow and her hair with green tea
and stomach acid.

Rita just snorted. Some people were just so inhibited.
With no further comment, she went about the chore of pulling Tara's
dead, aching legs toward the side of the bed.

Watching her, Tara knew that right now she was too weak to fight.
Any struggle would result in defeat. Again sharp, her brain began
devising a plan. She knew that the walk to the bathroom and the
hot shower would rapidly restore the circulation in her limbs.

If she bought as much time as possible, it would all go in her favor.
She would continue to act as though she were addle brained, weak
and dimwitted, waiting for just the right moment to make her move.

Tara never doubted that her friends would come and that they would
find her. Now she just prayed that she would still be alive when they did.

Helping her to sit up on the edge of the bed, Rita put both Tara's feet
flat on the floor.
"Lean forward and put some weight on your legs. Then, after a
minute I'm going to pull you up. You ready?"

Tara, who wanted to give every indication that she was willing to cooperate,
nodded and did as she was told. As expected, the painful pins and needles
shot from her toes straight up to her hips, sparking in every nerve ending
along the way.

Tara whimpered but pressed down, trying to work past the agony.

"O.k. Here we go."
Rita grabbed Tara by the wrists and pulled, hoisting her prisoner
up to balance on her bare feet. Immediately her legs folded and she
crumpled, falling back onto the damp mattress.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Tara looked fearfully at her captor.

"Pfft. No sweat. Come on, we'll try again"
Rita grabbed her again, a bit tighter this time and jerked roughly.
This time Tara stayed up. She swayed slightly, forcing herself to
remain upright while her legs remembered how to stand.

Anyone looking in from the outside would think the two women were
the best of friends working together toward a common goal as
Rita's face lit up in a grin of triumph.

"Hey! There you go. See, not hard at all."

Tara smiled gingerly.
"Thank you."

Immediately, Rita threw a supportive arm around Tara's waist and helped
her out of the room, down the hall and toward the bathroom.

"Say, Tara, Jim didn't happen to say anything did he? I mean you two
were alone in there for a long time."

Tara's only answer was the slight movement of her head.

More than a little disappointed, Rita tightened her grip and the two women
proceeded to the shower.
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