The Best Medicine Ch. 01

The woman who had been speaking was probably one of the darkest-skinned individuals that Vanesse had ever seen. She wore snug blue jeans that hung low on the hips and leather chaps, along with a denim vest over her "Actually, I'm laughing AT you" red tee shirt with white lettering. Her black hair was done up in cornrows and hung down to the middle of her neck. Exposed skin showed that this woman was ripped, with every muscle standing out in profile. This did not mean that she was huge, but rather was sleek and toned to the point of obscenity. She had a number of tribal tattoos up and down her arms.

She had a calm, classic beauty to her face, despite the white bandage on her nose. Her full, dark lips were curled in a smirk that just seemed natural. Green eyes sparkled as they looked Vanesse over in a way that did not make her entirely comfortable. Then one of those long arms held up a bottle of water. When Vanesse just stared at it defiantly --

"Listen, if we were going to hurt you, we would have done it already. I WILL get a funnel," the woman added meaningfully.

Vanesse grabbed the bottle, glaring at her captors. There were five other captors in the room, including two burly and bearded white males that appeared to be identical twins, a woman with light brown skin whose origin was a bit of a mystery, and a man of Asian descent who looked like he could lift a bridge-troll over his head. He also had colorful tattoos that covered his arms all the way down to the wrists, and he appeared to have them on his chest as well. That man was standing right behind the woman who had been speaking, giving the impression that he was her right-hand man. The Princess put the bottle to her lips and quickly downed the entire thing.

"Looks like sweetcheeks was a little thirsty after all," one of the men chuckled.

"My name is not 'sweetcheeks'," Vanesse shot back, drawing herself up and sticking her chin out defiantly.

"Well, we don't know what else to call you," the primary woman said.

"Wait, you kidnapped me and you don't even know who I am?"

The woman shrugged. "Honestly, it didn't seem important. Our . . . employer, well, he just said to go to this spot in Alaska, break into an invisible stronghold, and retrieve some elvish broad --"

"Broad?!"

"-- and take her wherever he tells us to go. Which he'll tell us when we get away from here. So in the meantime, why don't you give us your name?" The woman leaned back, still smiling wickedly. "Or we could come up with something more interesting than sweetcheeks," she said, looking pointedly at Vanesse's full chest.

Vanesse blushed from head to toe. "My name is . . . is --"

"Your REAL name will help. Otherwise, you'll never answer it, we'll know it's fake, and it'll be back to calling you --"

"Vanesse," she hissed. "My name is Vanesse. What did you do with my friend?"

"Your battle-dancer you mean?" the Asian man said.

"It's okay Jack," the main woman said. "Show her."

Vanesse's heart was in her throat as she feared the worst, then the one known as Jack opened the door to the restroom. Trina was inside, sitting up in the tup and wrapped from head to toe in chains. She had a piece of cloth wrapped around her mouth as a gag, and she was even blindfolded. Vanesse rushed to her friend's side.

"Are you okay?" she whispered glancing over her shoulder at their captors. "Did they hurt you?"

"Hurt her?" the black woman asked. "She broke my nose!"

Trina tried to mumble something, but the gag stopped her.

"Was the blindfold really necessary?" Vanesse asked, struggling with the knot.

"She was shooting daggers at me with her eyes," Jack muttered.

Vanesse glanced at him. "She can't actually do that."

"Hey, after what she did in the garage, I wasn't taking any chances."

Vanesse got the blindfold and gag off of Trina, while Jack muttered something to the effect that he was sure the battle-dancer could kill with her eyelashes.

"I'm sorry," Trina said, staring with tear-stained eyes at the face of her charge. "I failed you."

"You did more than anyone could have asked. I was the one who wanted to be in the garage." Vanesse leaned in and whispered, "What should we tell them?"

"The truth would help," the woman in the main room said. "And yes, we can hear you."

"They're lycanthropes," Trina said in a normal tone. "Most of them have very good hearing."

"Savages," Vanesse replied. "And I don't care if they can hear that!" she practically shouted.

"Now Vanesse, I can't have you shouting and raising a ruckus. We don't want anyone calling the police now do we?" the woman said, coming over and pulling Vanesse by the arm back into the room and depositing her none too gently on the bed. "Jack, bring in the other one . . . hey, what's her name?" she asked.

"Trina," Vanesse informed her. "Her name is Trina."

"Okay, so it's Vanesse and Trina. My name is Farmer," the black woman said. "these honorable gentlemen . . . and lady," she added, pointing at the brown-skinned woman, "are Jack, Bud, Ace, and Alani. We are going to be your caretakers for the next few days. First, we have no intention of hurting you, but we will restrain you if you decide to cause us trouble."

"Right," Trina said suspiciously, "You're just going to let us run around --"

"Oh, I didn't say that," Farmer interrupted. "I figure that the princess here is very much dependent on you, so if we control you, we control her," she said to Trina.

Vanesse could not be angrier if she had tried. She had been kidnapped, looked down on, and now she was being dismissed as any kind of threat? Then she realized, "Wait, you said you didn't know who I was!"

"I didn't," Farmer say, looking confused.

"Holy crap!" the other woman, Alani, said after a pregnant pause. "You ARE a princess? You're Princess Vanesse Bellethial? Everyone was wondering what happened to you."

"Why, so that the anti-elf crusade can seek me out and kill me like it did my parents? You're a bunch of savages --"

"What anti-elf crusade?" Farmer asked, looking perplexed. "Did I not get that memo?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about," Vanesse snarled.

From the look on her face, Farmer had no idea what her guest was talking about. "Oh-kay. So we have an honest to goodness princess amongst us. Oh, won't THAT whet the boys appetites," she said with a grin directed towards Jack.

"I'll tell them to put the knives and forks away."

"I think they'd rather eat with their hands anyway. Amongst other things."

It took a moment for Vanesse to catch up with the conversation. "You wouldn't dare?! Well maybe you would --"

"Calm down sugar, I ain't gonna make you a party toy for the boys. First, I don't do that. Secondly, my boys don't do that. But if you ask real nice, I might just take you for a ride," she added smoothly, then had to dive for cover when Trina swung her entire body, chains and all, in an attempt to remove Farmer's head from her shoulders.

"See, that's what I'm talking about," Farmer said. "Jack, give the Princess another shot."

"What?!" Trina said. "No! Coward, don't take it out on her --"

"But you see, this is what I meant about controlling the both of you. I don't want to keep you chained up all the damn time, and I don't want to worry about you causing problems. Now Alani here is kinda our magical froo-froo expert, and she says that you battle-dancers types have a special promise that you make. Right?"

Trina controlled her shiver. She was in deep enough shit for being a little too careless with giving her Word, so the idea of this woman using it against her made her stomach sink.

"It's called their Word," Alani said calmly. "Once they give it, it's like breathing to them. They can't give it up."

"So I want you to give me your Word that you won't try anything funny," Farmer said, looking back at Trina.

"Farmer," Alani said, interrupting Trina before she could speak, "it's not that easy. You've got to be careful, or they can find ways to circumvent their Word. You tell her not to do anything funny, she'll interpret that literally and beat you up in a unfunny way."

"Crap," Farmer muttered, glancing at the battle-dancer. "Don't suppose you'd be willing to make this easy on me?" She was encouraged in a way when she saw the captive woman trying to suppress a smirk. "Fine, go get Bobbo. He used to be a lawyer. On second thought --"

Farmer paused, pulling up a chair and staring at Trina. "Okay, here's the scoop. Again. I need to take the Princess here somewhere to deliver her to my boss. As far as I know, he doesn't want to hurt her and neither do I. I want you to give me your word that you will not try to harm me or any of my people unless you or the Princess are attacked first or with my permission and, if you do retaliate, you only retaliate against the offending party. You will not try to escape our custody and will do what I say as long as it doesn't involve harming or allowing harm to come to you or Vanesse."

Trina looked at Vanesse, who was obviously terrified. Okay, maybe she was thirty years old, but she had led an incredibly sheltered life for the last fifteen, and before that she'd been a kid whose parents had been killed in a violent fashion. It was Trina's mission to prevent anything else from happening to her friend and the heir to the crown. She had basically been given carte blanche to defend Vanesse, which she could not do while bound or drugged.

"Princess --"

"Do it," Vanesse said. "I don't trust them, but I trust you."

'And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe,' Trina thought. 'Like always.' She looked at Farmer. "You have my Word."

"Let her loose," Farmer said, standing up.

The other kidnappers looked at her like she had just lost her mind.

"Loose?" one of the twins asked.

"Seriously?" the other said.

"Now?" Alani put in.

Jack did not say anything. He fished a set of keys out of his pocket and started unlocking padlocks. Finally, Trina was free. She got to her feet to stretch, and everyone except Farmer cringed a little bit.

"Are you all right?" Vanesse asked.

"Nothing really hurt except my pride," Trina said.

"Well, there's the matter of my nose," Farmer grumbled.

"Sorry about that," the battle-dancer said before she could catch herself.

"Okay, what's with the apologies?" Farmer asked. "You were apologizing the entire fight in the garage."

Trina sniffed and turned her nose up at the woman. "Not everyone appreciates violence."

Farmer let out a laugh. 'Great,' she thought. 'I've got a real elvish princess, a battle-dancer that doesn't like hurting people, and the Alpha gave me no idea why the hell I'm doing this. Bastard's lucky he can afford to pay for my time.' She stood up. "Okay, let's move out. The sooner we get where we're going, the sooner I can get back to business."

Vanesse watched as Farmer stood, her body practically uncoiling to her full height. She was as tall as Trina, which was impressive, though she seemed much more solid that Vanesse's elvish bodyguard. Her clothes clung to her curves like a second skin, and those curves were certainly noticeable. Her legs seemed impossibly firm and toned, leading up to a picture-perfect --

'Stop that,' she chided herself. 'Gods you're sick. No wonder you were in therapy for so long.'

Farmer opened up the door to the outside and a burst of freezing air entered the room. Neither Vanesse nor Trina had any cold weather gear, nor any personal belongings at all for that matter. Trina grabbed a blanket off of the bed and wrapped it around her friend's shoulders.

"This should help for a bit."

"Keep forgetting how delicate you elves are," Farmer said. "We'll pick something up for you at Walmart."

Vanesse's face froze in more ways than one. She would not be talked down to by a wild animal. She dropped the blanket. "I can handle anything you can, pathetic cur."

Instead of getting angry, Farmer just grinned. "Sweetcheeks, anytime you think you can really handle what I can, just say the word. I promise to give you way more than you can handle."

Hating herself for doing it, the Princess blushed again. She walked out into the sub-freezing weather, shaking the whole way. Outside were --

"Motorcycles?!" she exclaimed. "You want me to ride on a motorcycle? In . . . this?!" she added waving at the blustery sky.

"What's the matter? Can't handle it after all?"

'That's it,' Vanesse growled mentally, 'I'll freeze to death before I give this woman the satisfaction of more complaint.' "Fine."

Farmer let out a laugh. "Oh, you're too cute when you're being defiant. It's okay, Princess. The boys are bringing something around for you. Not everyone has this rockin' metabolism," she added, pointing at her cut abdomen.

Vanesse was not sure what that chiseled muscle group had to do with anything, but it did not keep her from staring. Her reverie was interrupted by the rumbling as more motorcycles arrived. And there were a lot of them. "Oh my --" she started to say. There had to be thirty or so ruffians pulling into the parking lot or parking on the nearby street, each one looking meaner and nastier than the next. All of them wore denim jackets with a playing card on the back. The card was a joker, and it was surrounded by black flame.

All of the bikers took time to oggle the newcomers, giving Trina a chance to scope them out as well. She was interested to see that there were as many women in the gang as men, something of an oddity in organizations like this. At least, as far as she knew. All of them looked tough, all of them looked armed, and each and every single one of them was a lycanthrope.

'Amazing,' she thought. Normally, different types of lycanthropes did not like to hang out together for extended periods of time unless they were part of a House, which these obviously were not. 'So are they wolves?' she thought. She could not think of anything else than would run in a pack this large.

Amongst the revving motorcycles was a large SUV with black tinted windows. The entire thing looked like it had seen better days, as the doors were dented and scratched, the rear bumper was missing entirely, and the words "Loose women wanted. Inquire within" painted on the side.

"Your chariot awaits," Farmer said, giving an overly elaborate bow and holding open the passenger-side door.

"You want me to get in that?"

"You WILL get in that," Farmer said, still smiling, but her teeth seemed sharper now, as was her voice.

"She sits next to me," Trina said calmly. "I need to be in a position to protect her."

"This baby is warded inside and out," Jack said, putting his hand on the hood. "Safer than a tank."

"Bud and Ace sit in the back," Farmer said firmly. "You're in the middle," she told Trina, "with Jack on one side and Alani on the other. The Princess here sits in the passenger side, and I drive. These arrangements are not negotiable." She patted the seat. "Now slide that cute little ass in here so we can get going."

Vanesse knew that she would accomplish nothing by holding out, so she climbed in, then waited for Farmer to close the door. Farmer just smiled and walked around to the driver's side. Trina moved forward and grabbed the door.

"Just remember, I'm right behind you. Like always," the brown-haired elf said, then closed the door and got into the middle row of seats.

Farmer rolled down her window and looked at the gathering of bikers. "Okay, everyone knows the directions and the time-table. Since we're going through some relatively unknown territory for a lot of it, we need to do something I've never asked of you before."

"Have sex with a giraffe?" someone shouted from the back.

A round of laughter ensued, with Farmer joining in. Trina found it odd . . . the laughter. It sounded a bit high in pitch, and they seemed to be doing a lot of it.

"Juan," Farmer said at last, "How'd you find out what your Christmas present was?" More laughter. "Seriously as I can be folks, let's watch the speed." A round of "awh's" filtered into the wind. "And no recreational fist fights --" (more "awh's") "-- unless I start one or otherwise say so." (A "woo-hoo!")

"Her longest streak is three days," Jack whispered. He looked amused.

"Three days?" Trina whispered back.

"Three days without starting a fight. She had bet she could last a week."

"What did she bet?"

Jack grinned. "Wait and see. I'm sure we'll have a chance to call her on it sometime on this trip."

Trina was curious in spite of herself. It also occurred to her that she could use this situation to her and Vanesse's advantage. They had wanted to escape, and now they were getting taken . . . somewhere. She just was not sure about what kind of people these were. Did she dare trust them enough to tell them . . . 'No,' she thought. 'Whatever their purpose is, it's their purpose. I'm not exactly going to put it all on the line to someone who's just handing us off to someone else.'

"Also," Farmer was saying, "if anyone makes a pit-stop, take a couple of boys with you. People are looking for our package already, and who knows what they're going to send. When I hear more from you-know-who, I'll tell ya. Oh, and Robbie?"

"Yeah?"

"What happens to you if you hurt my bike?"

"Uhm, I die in a horribly painful fashion?"

"For starters."

Trina looked out through the window and saw a young man on what had to be Farmer's bike. It almost glowed black, with a sleek frame and chrome accents. Near the headlight, someone had sculpted the head of an animal so that light shone out from between powerful jaws with chrome teeth.

'Looks to short in the snout to be a wolf,' she thought, 'but too long to be a cat. It's almost like a bear or --' Trina's brain stopped in its tracks. The grinning, the laughing . . . Farmer being in charge. Not a lot of the lycanthropic breeds had or even allowed females to lead. But there was one.

"Werehyenas?" she said out loud, without even thinking about it.

"At your service," Jack said, that grin still plastered on his face. "You know, you could've just asked."

"They're hyenas?!" Vanesse hissed from the front seat. Werehyenas were one of the smallest sub-populations in the lycanthrope community. Seeing this many together probably represented the majority of them in the country and possibly on the continent. They were notoriously unpredictable and violent, and the only lycanthrope species that was matriarchal in nature.

"Could you scream, 'Oh mah Gawd, we is all gonna die?' Seriously, you sound like one of those old Hollywood actresses tied to the train tracks when you get like that," Farmer said. "Hey Bud, what's the chick from Dudley Do-Right?"

"Nell," came a gruff voice from the back.

"That's it," Farmer said, pounding the steering wheel gleefully and shooting a sideways glance at Vanesse. "You're her. Oh c'mon, you've seen Dudley Do-Right, haven't you? The cartoon? Rocky and Bullwinkle?"

"Is she even speaking English anymore?" Vanesse said over her shoulder.

"It was a cartoon," Trina informed her. "You never watched it because it was not Looney Tunes, and you were a purist."

"So what was your favorite cartoon character?" Farmer asked.

That was when Vanesse realized that she was having a civilized conversation with uncivilized people, so she turned away from the driver and stared pointedly out the window.

Farmer gunned the engine and pulled out onto the frozen streets of whatever small Alaska town they had stopped in. "C'mon, share a little. Otherwise, this is going to be a long ride. See, I like noise --"

"That she does," Jack said.

"-- and these guys have heard or been around for every one of my stories --"

"True dat," Alani concurred.

"-- and so I am desperate for new blood," she finished meaningfully. Then another sideways glance. "What size do you wear?"