Chapter 2

Peter heard the muffled curses and screams long before he reached the heavy oak door leading into his conservatory. The deeper tone of the cries meant that it was the pimp and not the meth-addicted girl who was sober enough to be fully aware of his situation. He opened the door, causing the noise to come to an abrupt stop. Inside, the hothouse was mostly dark, being lit only by the feeble crescent moonlight shining through thick glass roof panels. The sultry air hit him and he smelled rich fertile earth combined with the tang of composted manure.

He was just able to make out the dark-furred Klup sitting on her haunches a few paces inside the doorway. To one side of the she-troll were the two banded iron cages holding the captives. As he had suspected from the screams, it was the pimp causing the ruckus. The clearly-terrified man’s head was straining against the confining iron cage as he tried to see who, or what, had opened the door.

Peter smiled as he noticed that Klup was trying to block out the pimp’s screaming by jamming her big thumbs into her sensitive ears. He was impressed that the troll had remembered his warning and was ignoring the terrified pimp while remaining vigilantly facing the far end of the room where the Pupadominus plant was potted.

“Hey Bro!” the pimp screamed. “Get me da’fuck autta here!”

Klup suddenly slammed one of her paws into the iron cage just over the man’s face. The action bounced the pimp’s head back onto the stone floor, stunning him into momentary silence. Peter chuckled at first but then scowled as he smelled the urine and feces the pimp had been unable to contain. He would either have to endure the mess until Miranda or Bella could clean the room tomorrow or do it himself before then. He then sighed as he realized that it would be better if he took care of it, as Miranda would be exhausted when she finally woke and Bella feared the death plant.

Peter peered deeper into the dark room and could just make out the dark green Pupadominus plant where it sat potted in its large horse-trough-sized container at the far end of the room. It was right where it was supposed to be but one could never be too careful with magical creatures. In the daytime, with three converging glass walls, that end of the greenhouse provided the necessary sunlight that the strange half-carnivorous plant still periodically required.

He was momentarily annoyed that the troll had not activated the fae-light globes that lined the room but then he remembered that, with her excellent night vision, Klup did not need the magical lights. Peter spoke the incantations which caused the globes to begin glowing and as the conservatory grew brighter, the full Pupadominus plant was revealed. As always, Peter felt both awe and revulsion as he studied the impressive magical specimen.

The new light also allowed the recovering pimp to become fully aware of his surroundings. First, he stared in horror at the mountain troll sitting right beside his cage. Next, he noticed the hulking, nightmare shape of the carnivorous death plant at the end of the greenhouse. Thankfully the confined man did not resume his shrieking and only moaned in terror, shaking his head back and forth as if to deny what he was seeing. Whether from the lingering pain or simply reflex, the pimp clutched his still-bleeding groin protectively.

Klup stood and moved to stand behind Peter. The action caused the terrified man to piss himself again, urine fountaining through gaps in his hands. Peter dreaded having to extract the filthy soiled man out of his now-soiled cage. He dismissed the pimp for now and moved closer to the death plant to give it a more thorough inspection. Despite the Pupadominus plant’s current lack of mobility, it was still very dangerous if one was not careful. With the late hour, the plant was only semi-active, relying on its stored energy reserves to carry it through the period of near-total darkness.

At the top of the plant’s impressive nine-foot height was a large, mostly-closed, main flower. This was its primary sensory organ and Peter saw that it was now slowly tracking to where he stood. Once it was focused on him, the flower slowly opened, revealing the horrifying image of a large bloodshot eye. Peter knew that the eye was fake, just a camouflage pattern of colors, and that the plant used it to distract and mesmerize any adversary. But still, despite knowing that, he found it hard to look away.

In focusing only on him now, Peter realized that the plant somehow was smart enough to know that of the four living animals in the room, he was its primary threat, even dismissing the physically larger and stronger mountain troll. Peter approached the plant and stood just outside the reach of its four-remaining tentacle-like leaf-covered manipulator stalks.

“You’re getting to be a big, scary bastard, aren’t you?” he muttered to the plant.

The flower quivered in response, and Peter wondered, as he had many times before when tending the strange creature, just what it was thinking ... if it was thinking? He directed his inspection below the terrible eye, down the stalk a foot to where the death plant widened out into a thick twisting stalk covered with nodules. These were its poison galls and Peter noticed that there were three new thorn-tipped coiled tentacles growing. He’d have to prune them soon before they became large enough to strike out.

Thankfully the plant’s poison thorns had a limited range of only eight or nine feet when fully grown. This was because they remained attached to the plant via a long, thin, coiled deployment tentacle. Peter allowed this specimen to retain one such fully-grown tentacle because he milked its poison periodically. The valuable substance was his primary source of revenue here on Kreven and it was also needed for tonight’s procedure.

To render the poison thorn safe had been tricky but he had figured out a method back when the plant was young. It involved, over many weeks, threading the growing poison tentacle through a long length of iron chain. Once the tentacle had grown to its full length, it formed a swollen poison gland at the end of the tentacle, and in doing so, neatly trapped itself inside the heavy chain. Peter then simply secured the end of the chain, along with the confined but still-functional tentacle, to a floor ring just outside the reach of the plant’s four larger manipulator tentacles.

When he needed to inject someone or something, or milk the thorn for its poison, all he had to do was untie the chain from the floor ring. Peter was strong enough to move the chain easily but it was far too heavy for the thin tentacle to budge.

Also, as an additional safety measure, he kept the needle-sharp thorn protected with an old wine-bottle cork. This was not only for safety but more to keep the thorn sharp and free from damage. Peter had learned this lesson early on when the plant still had the will to struggle periodically against its confinement. The first thorn he had successfully secured in the chain had been broken as the plant fought the chain trying to free its poison tentacle. Thankfully, the plant had learned, or accepted the inevitable, and while now mostly docile, Peter suspected that it was smart enough to exploit any weakness if he let his diligence lapse.

Lower on the plant’s main stalk was its large swollen digestive chamber. This bulging, burl-like growth had a large flexible sphincter near the top which acted as the plant’s combination mouth and anus. Dead or still living animal matter, up to human-child-sized, was delivered into this sphincter mouth by the plant’s manipulator tentacles. Peter kept the plant fed with fish and small animals, but not too much, so the plant was always a bit hungry. The plant also gained nourishment from the soil in its pot and Klup had the job of adding a bucket of composted shit every week along with its daily bucket of water.

Attached to the stalk just below the stomach burl and above its roots was the plant’s long, coiled reproduction and ovipositor tentacle. Peter spotted one large seed already in position near the base of the dexterous ovipositor segment of the mass. The size of the lump and its ready position meant that the woman captive would not have to wait long. If he got her processed tonight, the seeding could take place tomorrow, likely before noon, after the plant soaked in a few hours of sunlight.

The ovipositor segment of the reproduction mass was mostly hidden behind the swollen seed area but Peter was able to make out the retracted flexible applicator. He confirmed that the tip was wet with secretions. This also indicated the plant was ready to seed. He noted the four, strong, two-foot-long grasper leaves coiled around the leaking ovipositor’s end, protecting the tapered, clenched sphincter-tipped penetrator tip.

Peter then spotted a second, immature seed just visible near the base of the tentacle. He estimated the second seed would be ready for a host in another five or six weeks. With spring soon to arrive on Kreven, now was when the plant produced its three or four yearly seeds. It wanted them distributed far and wide and just forming roots when the ground warmed.

Also attached to the main stalk just above the roots for leverage were four large tentacle-like leaf-covered manipulator stalks. These were the plant’s ‘arms’ which it used to defend itself, secure its prey or hosts, and clear and maintain its surroundings. Each manipulator stalk had a reach of about five or six feet at full extension and was very strong, able to easily lift a human.

The stalks did have a downside in that they moved rather slowly, slow enough that a careful and quick person could easily avoid them. Each manipulator stalk was tipped with almost a dozen long, flexible ‘finger’ leaves that could wrap around a log or limb and grip with surprising tenacity. They were also strong enough to tear chunks from larger prey in order to fit into the plant’s digestive chamber. Smaller tubes in the ends of the manipulator tentacles could also exude the various secretions the plant used to prepare its hosts.

A fully formed ‘wild’ Pupadominus plant had ten such manipulator arms. Peter had pruned all but four from this specimen to make it easier to manage. The plant survived the reduction because Peter kept it fed and its space clear of competing growth. In the wild, so crippled, it would have surely perished before it regenerated the missing limbs.

Finally, Peter inspected the bottom-most segment of the plant. This was the large gnarly burl which had formed just above the soil surface of the pot. This was also where, over a decade ago, he had grafted the dangerous plant to safer, non-magical rootstock. By cutting off its leg/roots which had allowed the Pupadominus plant the mobility to relocate at will, Peter had found a way to safely confine and utilize the hobbled plant for profit. The death plant had been just a harmless sprout at the time and as far as he knew, Peter had been the only one to figure out the method.

Long ago, Peter had found a reference in an old scroll about a method to render the dangerous plant safe. The method had simply been to periodically cut off the plant’s mobility roots when it was young. The problem was that the fast-growing magical plant soon rejuvenated the roots and the process had to be repeated every few days, lest the plant escape or kill you in your sleep.

Peter, with the benefit of his Earthly knowledge, had postulated that grafting the upper, active portions of the Pupadominus plant to a fixed and non-magical rootstock might fool the plant into not regenerating. He experimented and found, much to his surprise, that the procedure worked. He had since guarded this secret, which mainly involved simply not letting others see his prized now-safely-potted specimen.

With his inspection over and now having enough strength to deal with the two human captives alone, Peter dismissed the she-troll. Klup got to her feet and, after giving him a short bow, loped tiredly out of the room. At this hour, she would go to her nest which was located just outside the manor. There, even if sleeping, the sensitive troll would hear or sniff out any approaching foes and wake, dealing with them herself or sounding the alarm if the foe proved to be too formidable. Her nest was close enough that the she-troll could be called from the manor if help was needed inside.

As the she-troll closed the oak door behind her, Peter again noted her pregnancy. With this realm in the middle of winter, he realized that he had better prepare a new nesting area for Klup and her pending pups inside the heated manor itself. Not having to constantly remain with her newborns to keep them warm would free up the troll enough to allow her to continue performing at least the most critical of her manor chores. Another task for him to worry about.

He went to the cage containing the pimp and lifted one end up off the stone floor.