The girl recognized this woman as Anita, who had worked at the palace as a cook and had also whored for Baron Al when he had felt the urge in the still of the night. She had thought that lending her favors to the baron may save her from being sacrificed, but she had already born two children to different fathers, proving that her fertility was down to herself rather than any one man, and the baron had picked her as one of the first to board the wag. She was only in her middle thirties, with plenty of time to bear more children for the desperate men of Summerfield.
Ayesha despised the woman, as she had been sly and bitchy to the girl when the baron had been absent, yet sweet and nice to her when he was around. Yet it gave her little pleasure to see the woman so defeated. As she gazed up, her eyes meeting Ayesha’s, the girl could see that Anita had been crying the whole time since they had left the ville, her eyes little more than bloodshot orbs rimmed with sore, puffy flesh. Her cheeks were streaked with grime that had run under the onslaught of the tears, and her whole bearing was of one who had already accepted her fate…whatever that may be.
The resignation and defeat of this woman she loathed made Ayesha even more determined to meet her side of the bargain with the Hellbenders—with Danny—or to be chilled in the attempt. Anything would be better than to end up like this pathetic specimen.
Casting a swift yet penetrating survey over the rest of the women in the wag, she could see that the vast majority of them fell into the same category as Anita. There were only a couple of exceptions, one of them being a tall and lithe girl who was of mixed white and black parentage. She had a firm figure, lightly muscled and highly toned, with large brown eyes that met Ayesha’s with an unflinching gaze. As their eyes met, it was as though some kind of understanding was reached between them without the need for words. Both recognized the will to survive, and seemed to agree without even acknowledging it that they would back each other up if the need arose. The girl had long plaits that were tied back into a pony tail at the back of her head, accentuating her perfect cheekbones. She had a pride and hauteur in her bearing that told Ayesha that she wouldn’t be found wanting. The ponytail moved slightly behind the girl’s head as she nodded almost imperceptibly.
Ayesha moved to the back of the wag and turned to face the sec man, who was watching her intently.
“So what d’you think I’m going to do, try and overpower you with a jet of piss?” she said, sneering at him. “Or is that how you get your kicks? Watching young girls?”
The sec man tightened in his seat, his body rigid with rage at her taunts. “You better watch your mouth, bitch,” he growled, “or I’ll forget who you are.”
“And why you can’t touch me?” she finished. The sec man was about to say something when the sec riding shotgun turned and addressed him. “For fuck’s sake, let her do it in peace,” he said wearily. “Anything to stop that damn whining. She’ll get what she deserves soon enough.”
“Mebbe you’re right. I’ll hold that thought for a while.” the sec man replied with a cold smile that spread humorlessly across his lips. “Why not? Let the bitch piss in peace.”
With which he turned away, facing the front of the wag, although his grip tightened instinctively on the Uzi.
Instinct—that would be her enemy. She had to hope that the sec man didn’t have an inkling of what she was about to do, or else the whole thing was blown before she had even begun.
Ayesha unbuttoned her jeans and let them fall from her hips. She had forsworn underwear for ease at this moment, and thanked whatever had made her choose this as she reached into herself and fumbled for the end of the knife stock. Looking up desperately, she could see that some of the women were watching her with puzzlement, while others were still looking away and were downcast. The beautiful dark girl was looking directly at her, but as she was in the eyeline of the sec man, she kept her face stony so that he wouldn’t be alerted. Mostly, it seemed that the women, if they cared at all, were puzzled in a lackadaisical way as to why she seemed to be playing with herself rather than pissing. She was aware that the sec man would become suspicious if he didn’t hear her, so when she had extracted the knife she tried to force something out to sound in the bucket, but nothing other than a brief trickle could be forced from her unwilling bladder.