It was almost midnight by the time Eztli was finished with Angela, inside his dungeon. She was utterly spent by this point and did not stir when he stood and glided away silently, leaving her resting on her side, on the smooth, stone floor. Returning refreshed and resplendent in a new, dark-blue suit, white shirt and cravat, he bent down and stroked her sweaty forehead briefly. When this elicited no response, he sighed loudly and scooped her up, then carried her up to the bedroom, just as he had done the previous night.
"You best not get used to me carrying you everywhere," he remarked, while depositing her inside the bed once more. "Remember, if you want to survive in my world, you must be both smart and strong."
Angela's eyelids fluttered.
"Eztli," she whispered, weakly. "You drained me... I need... need..."
"Yes, fräulein, you need my blood," he said, finishing the sentence for her. "And you'll have it, before long. But not yet."
She registered his words with a feeling of dismay. Opening her eyes partially - in itself, an effort, in her present state - she gazed at his handsome face in silence, too worn out to even argue.
What more does my impossibly beautiful master have planned for me?
she thought to herself.
What would make him want to keep me in this weakened state?
She was wracking her tired brains, imagining the kinds of torture he had planned, when he smiled at her and said,
"Don't let your imagination run away with you, dear. I have no desire to keep you looking like this for a moment longer than necessary."
This made her frown, with her womanly pride demanding answers. "Looking like what? What do I look like?"
"Like a sick person," he replied, calmly. "More specifically, someone with a fever."
As he picked up her phone and passed it to her, Angela understood what he wanted her to do, and she groaned out loud.
"Oh no... No, no. I don't want to talk to my parents, right now. I can barely keep my eyes open. Please Eztli... don't do this to me."
Eztli's pale gaze never left her own as he deposited the phone into the palm of her hand and closed her unresisting fingers around it.
"Come now, fräulein," he said, giving her a knowing look. "I distinctly remember you saying, your mother needs you. The least you can do is give her a call."
"But... but... it's the middle of the night," she stammered, after glancing at the screen and noting the time. "Surely, she'll be asleep."
"In that case, you can leave her a message, so she can hear just how sick you are." He raised an eyebrow at her, expectantly.
"You won't back down until I call her, will you?" Angela asked, her resistance fading.
He did not bother to reply, and after pausing to clear her throat - it was still sore, courtesy of all the screaming she did that night - she did as he suggested and dialed her mother's number with a shaking hand.
"Make sure to switch on the camera," he told her, while turning and moving away. She did not really want to, but she found herself flicking the camera on, anyway. Was it because she was afraid of disobeying him? No, of course not, she told herself firmly. But even as she thought this, her back began to burn, where his whip had lashed her. Reminding her of what happened the last time she provoked him.
"Angela! Darling! I've been so worried about you!" her mother's voice came, snapping her back to attention. She looked down at the small screen, and said,
"Hi Mom... Sorry to call so late, but I had a fever and fell asleep, earlier."
"Don't apologize, my darling, I wasn't sleeping anyway," her mother replied, while rubbing her red-rimmed eyes. She took a long look at Angela then went on, "My darling! You look terrible! Absolutely terrible! Are you sure your fever has broken? What are you taking to treat it? Have you seen a doctor yet?"
Angela gave her a wan smile.
"Mother, please. Don't worry about me. Just tell me about Dad. How is he?"
"He's still in hospital, darling. They're planning to operate on him, first thing tomorrow. I stayed with him for as long as I could, until visiting hours were over."
They discussed the finer details of the scheduled operation, as explained to Angela's mother by their doctor. It was not a very long conversation, with both of them too tired to chit-chat like they usually did. Nonetheless, Angela almost dozed off toward the end, prompting her mother to declare,
"I'm really worried about you, Angela. You look as pale as a ghost. Say... Why don't I send Auntie Mae over, to look after you? That way, I can at least stop worrying about you while all this is going on with your father."
"No, mother, please," Angela protested, in alarm. "I'm not as bad as I look, honest. Just worry about Dad and please call me or message me when he gets out of surgery."
"Are you sure, baby?" her mother said, persistently. "You know it's no trouble for your Auntie, she loves you so much..."
Angela closed her eyes for a moment, so she would not have to see the anxious look on her mother's face as she told her, "I know, Mom, but I meant what I said. Look, I must get some more rest, OK? Love you, Mom."
"I love you too, baby," Angela's mother replied. "Please, take care of yourself."
After reassuring her mother once again that she would be fine, Angela hung up and slumped against the pillows wearily.
"God, that was painful," she sighed to herself. A moment later, she felt a familiar dark presence nearby and looked up to see Eztli standing at the foot of the bed, watching her. Despite how stunning he appeared in his elegant, dark blue suit, she could not suppress a note of annoyance as she asked him,
"Why did you make me do that? Ha?"
