Free Angst (Book 4) by Robert P. Hansen Page B

imagined
the cobwebs were reaching out for her and the dust was sidling up against her
bare skin, and each time a cobweb brushed against her, she cringed. She got
further with her eyes open—but only by a few steps. “Why didn’t you keep it
clean!” she screamed up the dingy stairwell. “I’m trapped!” But it did no good.
There was no one up there to hear her.
    She thought about leaving through one of Argyle’s exit
tunnels but rejected the idea. None of her guards knew who she was, and they
would probably kill her on sight when she stepped out of Argyle’s chamber.
That’s what she would do if she were them, considering what had just happened.
    Poor Pug, she sobbed. Why did Sardach have to kill
you? A burst of anger burned through her tears. Damn you Sardach! she thought fiercely, Why did you have to leave me? She clenched her
fingers into fists and snarled, “It’s his fault! He’ll pay for it! I’ll
make sure of it!” But how? The Wizard’s Pact…
    She started pacing. If she used the golden key to bring
Argyle back, she could give her minions orders to escort Grayle out of the
place. That would keep them from killing her, but nobody cleaned those tunnels
either. Argyle didn’t care if they got dirty. At least they wouldn’t have
cobwebs. Maybe she could cope with the dirt if there weren’t any cobwebs
hanging about. Maybe. She glared at the stairwell again. Argyle would find it
delightful, but he wouldn’t even fit through the door.
    She was hungry. She was cold. She refused to put on
the worm-eaten dress she had worn when she had come down to become Argyle for
the last time. It would be the last time, too! She would just tell her uncle
that she was finished with being Argyle. She had had enough! He’d
listen, too, and then say, “Now Grayle…”
    “Damn him, too,” she muttered, only half-meaning it. But the
half that meant it was vindictive and ugly. The other half didn’t care.
    She looked at the key, at the little box that held the Golden
Key. It was powerful, old magic from the time before The Taming. Argyle waited
inside it, and all she needed to do was open the box and hold it. Argyle could
deal with the grime. Argyle loved grime. But Argyle wouldn’t fit in any
of the exit tunnels, either. He was trapped in his own tomb. It wouldn’t do to
have him rummaging around in the city streets.
    No! she thought, twisting around so fast that her
hair slashed across her naked shoulders and sent a shiver through her. She
hadn’t felt that shiver in a long time. Argyle’s horrid, greasy hair had always
made her cringe when she was inside him. No, not inside him. She was him
in the same way that he was her while she was under the influence
of the Golden Key. They acted. They spoke. They thought as
one. Only with the golden key did she have full control, and that key had been
gone for a long time. He had left his mark on her, and he was
vicious, cold-blooded, calculating. It was his revenge that she sought
to bring against Angus.
    Pug! She had loved that dog because it was the only
thing in Argyle’s dungeons that she could love. For Argyle, Pug had been
a vicious tool, just like all the other vicious tools he had used to bend
people to his will. They were her vicious tools, now, and she couldn’t even use
them.
    She looked at the tunnel opening and furiously plunged into
the cobwebs. This time, she drew upon the residue of Argyle within her that
relished the grime instead of being reviled by it. She hurried up the
stairs—and managed to get further than she had on any other attempt before she
screamed in horror, swatted at her hair, and fled down the stairs and out of
tunnel. Once past the secret entrance, she tumbled to her knees and swiped at
the cobwebs on her arms and breasts and hips and feet. She tugged violently at
the ones clinging to her hair. She screamed again as she tried to shake the
cobwebs from her hands and they stuck fast to her fingers. Finally, she crawled
over to Argyle’s