This story involves some characters from Elliot Kay's "Good Intentions" universe...
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Cassandra had run and failed. All the other captives of that vast middle realm called Purgatory had warned her of the futility of such action, but her terror at having to submit to Him for a year had known no bounds. She had desperately plotted, though with much of the cunning her kind was known for, and escaped at the first opportunity. The proctors, however, were closing in on her hiding place behind construction debris on the top floor of the long unfinished building. She could hear the heavy tramp of their boots as they methodically quartered each floor's bare spaces. A single tear squeezed from beneath the lid of her left eye, the green one, as she hugged her knees and cowered. It was unthinkable to have to give herself to Him as the Law of The Book dictated, so she had run, pointlessly it seemed now that her recapture was imminent. She would be forced into the fate she knew would break her.
Her breathing hitched and she tried to shrink herself into nothingness, as though the searching proctors would not scent her fear for all her tight lipped silence. Suddenly the broken pieces of wallboard she had been crouched under were ripped away and the cat-eye pupils of the lead proctor stared down at her. Her eyes rounded, one green and one blue, and she opened her mouth to shriek but found her throat in his grasp in an instant. Any sound she might have made was cut off as he lifted her bodily from her hiding place and pinned her to the wall. Her fingers clawed automatically against the gloved fist she struggled against.
"Put your feet against my legs, girl," he commanded. "I've no wish to choke you." She complied, disbelieving, even as her hands pulled uselessly at his fingers. As her bare feet pushed against his hard muscled thighs she felt the pressure ease on her throat, realizing his fingers merely cupped her neck to the wall, they did not curl and squeeze. She pushed up further, and found she could slide a bit in his grasp. She stared at him, wide-eyed as he asked her his next question. "You knew it useless to run, girl. Why did you.?"
She blinked at him. Why was he asking her this? Surely she would not be taken back to Him to serve her term as concubine. Instead she would be cast up, to have her fine leathery wings replaced with those horrid white feathered ones. Her horns would be ground off, and worst of all her tail would be taken! Her beautiful sinuous tail, lopped off as if she were some docile mortal show dog. Her eyes blazed suddenly, and she breathed in deeply as though she would spew the fire that also marked her kind all over the proctor's masked features...as if that would do any good. Her shoulders slumped finally, and she sagged, defeated.
"I...I cannot serve Him, Proctor." Her soft words were tinged with despair. "He...He is...He is too Good."
She could tell the proctor smiled grimly behind his iron façade. Her admission had cost her, and she knew he knew that. She bowed her head and another tear left her eye, following the glistening trail of the first.
"I would be corrupted forever...for eternity with his taint. I would never be able to return to the Pit. Should I be cast down I would be as the damned are there. The lowest of the low. Lower." Her words held only traces of bitterness, the fire of her defiance was gone. She looked to him with a final plea for succor. "I would that you kill me now than return me and condemn me to such a fate."
