Thorns of Fate

by Hayley Todd

  The man—Raoul, if the British woman were to be believed—stomped his way towards me, taking his time and clearly enjoying the moment. He loomed over me, casting his shadow across me until I felt as though the moon had been entirely eclipsed.

  “W-why are you doing this to me? What have I done?” I moaned, trying to stall him if only in the hopes that one of the staff members may come to take the trash out and come to my aid.

  Raoul simply grinned at me lecherously. “Ladies should only speak when spoken to,” he grumbled like he were reciting house rules. He lifted a fist high above me and brought it down with such speed it was a blur to me. His bony knuckles cracked against my chin.

  My world exploded into light and sound. I could see him through tunnel vision and heard a high pitched whining in my ears. My head rang and spun, feeling as though I may have been knocked into a full 180 degree swivel.

  The monster before me lifted me by one arm and I could feel the limb twisting at a horrible angle. My body had begun to go numb which I knew could bear no fond tidings. He held me in the air, like a marionette spinning on its strings. One of his hands ducked out of sight, reaching under my skirt and pulling my undergarments to my knees. His fingers ran along the inside of my thigh and sent a shiver of utter disgust through me.

  “Get the hell off of her, you sick brute!” A familiar voice thundered from behind the monster. Raoul turned, a hideous growl low in his chest. Each stomp of his feet shook me, though I barely felt it. My limbs had begun to grow cold, no blood seeming to reach my extremities.

  Through my dizzy, half-blinded haze, I saw my savior in the light cast by street lamps. Tyler stood before us, his hands balled into fists. He was furious, that much was obvious. He placed his feet, somewhat clumsily, reared back his arm, and slammed his fist into Raoul’s face.

  The mammoth man rocked back a step, his head snapping to the side. “Oh, what a mistake you have made, little man,” he grumbled. Faster than I could see coming, he slammed into Tyler with his shoulder, hurling him backwards much like he had done to me. With the colossal sound of a screeching car wreck, Tyler slammed into the club door, denting the metal surface and slumping into a heap. He didn’t move, not even the rhythm of his chest.

  A pain formed in my center, a lump in my throat.

  A blossoming red stain formed around Tyler’s figure and the ground around him.

  Raoul sniffed audibly. I shot my gaze toward him and through flashing white spots, could see a devilish smile forming on his lips. “I thought I was just getting a treat but now it seems I’m getting dinner and a treat!” He sounded gleeful, almost like a child. He snapped my arm, almost like you would snap a towel to smack someone. My cold numbness transformed into a burning that traveled from my arm all the way into the center of my chest. I vaguely considered that pain should probably follow that line of thought. It didn't.

  At the arc of the snap, Raoul let me go and I crashed to the pavement. I knew by the sound that exploded in my ears that my head had just connected with the concrete.

  The fabric of my skirt was forced higher along my thighs and I no longer felt the taut tension of my underwear between my knees.

  Red eyes leveled on me again as he shifted his weight between my legs. “I know it’s awful,” he murmured, “but I think I’ll have a snack before dinner. I know, I know,” he continued, creating his own grating monologue, “They don’t fight nearly as much when they’re drained.” He paused, as though listening for a response, then resumed his speech. “I know, it’s more fun when they fight.” His face twisted up in distaste. “I don't care,” he hissed pointedly. “I wants a taste.”

  He reached down, grabbing me by the straps of my dress and lifting me several feet from the ground towards his face. Though I couldn’t see it, I felt the straps snap. He adjusted his grip to my shoulder and the back of my neck in one hand before I slipped away.

  “What do you suppose this silly thing is?” He held aloft my black strapless bra--a damn expensive one too. He lifted it to his nose and sucked in a breath. “It smells tasty.” He tossed the slip of fabric away and leaned near me again. “That must mean you smell tasty!” He chortled and nuzzled his face into the crook of my neck. He inhaled deeply. “So tasty!” he shrieked. Then I felt the last thing, the last expression of human nature. Pain. Violent, indescribable pain. From my ear to my shoulder, my body radiated mind-numbing pain.

  Until it didn’t.

  Or not as bad anyway.

  Chapter Three

  With an exhalation of breath, Raoul launched away from me. He soared through the air farther than Tyler or I had. His back slammed into the brick dividing wall of the alley. It crushed beneath him as though it were made of clay instead of ancient red brick. From my prone position, I couldn’t see where he had landed. Dust and debris billowed into the air.

  There was a commotion from the wreckage--shouting, and the sound of blows landing. What poor soul had been condemned to save me this time?

  I screamed in fury.

  Or at least I tried to.

  My fury fizzled as no air left my lungs. My vision went fuzzy but the dust before me still hadn’t settled, making me unable to see what was happening anyway. I tried to sit up, knowing my skirt was hiked clear to my hips. The top of my dress had all but been entirely ripped apart with my bra discarded somewhere in the alley. I must’ve been a sight, my body battered, my breasts exposed to the night, wearing my designer dress like a belt.

  My view didn’t change.

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t wiggle toes or crinkle my nose or even close my eyes. My body didn’t respond to my thoughts.

  Panic filled me, my heart pounding faster, harder in my chest. Each heartbeat thumped in my head, sheer agony in and of itself. The pain didn’t stop there though.

  Thump, thump.

  My arms pounded with pain. My legs shuddered in horror. My chest struggled to lift itself for another breath.

  Thump, thump.

  My vision pulsated with red edges, the gigantic hole in the alley wall blurring in and out of focus.

  Thump, thump.

  The next breath was more than a struggle. It nearly didn’t come at all. My teeth chattered against each other as a weak breath leaked from my lips. My chest barely even moving.

  Thump, thump.

  What was that round shape on the other side of the wall? It was on the ground, outside of the settling cloud of dust. It seemed lumpy and misshapen.

  Thump, thump.

  Even my eyes hurt now. They just wanted to close. It seemed so easy. My vision was halved by eyelids.

  Thump, thump.

  The lump had two orbs, glistening in grooves on one side.

  Thump, thump.

  The orbs were white. And black. And red.

  Thump, thump.

  Eyes. Those were eyes.

  Thump, thump.

  A head. It was a head. It was only a head.

  Thump, thump.

  Someone finally emerged from the wreckage.

  Thump, thump.

  My vision was even spottier, barely functional.

  Thump, thump.

  It wasn’t Raoul. This man’s silhouette was too slender, too natural.

  Thump.

  If I’d had any breath to give, it would be gone.

  Thump.

  Curses. That’s what I heard. Curses.

  Thump.

  Something touched me. It was warm. So warm.

  Thump.

  Not something...someone touched me.

  Thump.

  How to you breathe when your chest is broken?

  Thump.

  My vision swirled into a spin of utter darkness.

  Thump.

  More curses. Desperate curses…

  Thu--

  I was uncertain how many times I came to before I truly left unconsciousness. I saw more odd things than I could count but I was uncertain how many of them were real. The first thing I remembered was being warm. In that half aware st
ate, I had been desperately cold. It was so, so good to be warm. Blessedly warm.

  I caught snippets of voices I didn’t recognize, in that hazy, dark place.

  “Can’t we just heal her?” uttered a hushed voice.

  “We can’t risk her turning right now,” urged the other.

  The response was a crash of falling items which was followed by a slamming door. Then silence.

  “Did he...rape her?” The first voice was back, sad, heartbroken. He sounded like he cared an awful lot for someone I didn’t recognize. Maybe he didn’t mean me? But who else would he mean? Who else would that have almost happened to?

  Wait...did he? Raoul? Even my mind hissed the name with hatred. But I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure. Did he? I was so in and out. He could have. He had me all but naked in that alley. My body was almost completely numb at the time. Would I even know if he had? I eagerly awaited the answer but was greeted with a painful silence instead

  “Did he rape her?!” The man asked, more aggressively this time.

  Answer him, damn it!

  “We...we don’t think so,” a tertiary voice finally responded. He sounded hesitant to give a straight answer, however. That voice actually sounded familiar.

  “You don’t think so? Didn’t they run their tests? How do they not know? How do you not know? You were there,” Voice A hissed.

  “Yes, they ran the tests and said that she could’ve healed evidence of it. I was there, yes. But so were you.” Voice C reluctantly responded. Voice C seemed hesitant to draw the ire of Voice A.

  “She’s still this torn up but she could’ve healed from that?! Dammit!” shrieked Voice A suddenly.

  More items clattering, more mess, more door slams.

  Voice B returned, evidently having been loitering quietly in the background. “Do you think that vile monster touched her? I realize the results aren’t conclusive but you were there, do you think he did?” He sounded sad. Not hurt, but infinitely sad.

  “Honestly? It’s plenty possible. Raoul is known for...those kinds of things. She was pretty torn up when I found her.”

  “Was. Was known for those kinds of things,” Voice B urged insistently, like a reminder he’d already issued several times.

  “Ah, yes. Was. You saw those other girls, though. The ones in the next alley. The one girl was completely ripped apart. The other was entirely drained and definitely raped. She hasn’t healed except for specifically what you had done though, so it’s doubtful that that’s the only thing she would’ve healed on her own. My skepticism comes from the fact that it’s much easier to heal that than her other ailments. Hell, anyone’s will heal given enough time.”

  Voice B paused, then sighed heavily, obviously angry but sounding as though he were too weary to truly get mad. “Dammit. We can hope not. But, either way, according to his report, she wasn’t far off. That may leave hard enough scars to erase.”

  I struggled to cling to whatever semblance of floating consciousness this was. I was intrigued by these three and wanted to hear more about what had happened. My memories were an insubstantial jumble. But, alas, fingers reached from the dark anyway, pulling me back into the blackness.

  “I wish I could kill him again.” Voice A had returned, calmer this time, though the calm was almost as frightening, with that edge of pain and panic and fury tingeing his words. Something warm pressed against me. A hand, perhaps? I didn’t know. I wasn’t even certain where it touched me. My arm, maybe? I was still too numb to tell. The lack of awareness didn’t make it feel any less warm.

  Someone cleared their throat. “Calm yourself,” Voice B chastised, gently, but firmly. “He is dead. Do not waste your time dwelling on him.”

  Someone else chuckled. A different voice than the throat clear. “I wouldn’t have minded a crack at him. If not for her, then for everyone else he’s ever done this to.” That would be the flippant tone of Voice C.

  “This isn’t a joke,” Voice A hissed and I couldn’t help but echo his outrage. This was my life and a pretty severe trauma that he was making light of.

  “Oh, calm down. You know that I don’t find this any funnier than you do. I care about her too. Maybe more. You got to pound out your anger though. I didn’t.”

  “That’s enough,” growled Voice B.

  “This is bullshit is more like it,” Voice C said again, hurling the words like an insult.

  Stomping. Slammed door.

  “He’s an idiot,” Voice A spat, but the wind was blown from his sails. He sounded utterly exhausted. For some reason, I immediately wanted to draw him into a hug, to cradle his wounded soul, to help hoist the troubles weighing on his shoulders.

  Voice B sighed. “He hasn’t been around as long as you have. He hasn’t seen the things that you have. He isn’t you, but he cares about her in his own way.”

  Voice A scoffed. “As a means to an end, perhaps.”

  “Perhaps,” Voice B conceded and I definitely picked up a hint of vitriol in the word.

  Beep, beep, beep, beep…

  Something beside me began shrieking, the beeps becoming more and more rapid until I thought they may become one solid tone. A distant ache panged in my chest.

  Doors slammed open, crashing into walls, shaking glass.

  “Clear the room!” A voice shouted from the general direction of where my feet should rest. It wasn’t a voice that I had ever heard before.

  Footsteps shuffled, and the warmth at my side abandoned me.

  Don’t leave.

  But still, darkness swallowed me once more.

  “How long until she wakes up?” Voice A whispered across the room as though he were interrupting my slumber. The warmth was back! My chest filled with glee. Or I think it was my chest. This whole inner monologue, hearing things but being entirely unable to see or feel was strange. Was this what coma patients felt like? Could they hear all the words around them, wanting only to reach out and be a part of it? Did they feel like a perpetual bystander?

  “We don’t know,” Voice B replied. He seemed to be the voice of reason and gave me the impression of being older than the other two. “Evelyn has been here every day for three days now. Each time she has been completely drained trying to heal her. Her progress has been slow.”

  “Don’t you have anyone else? Maybe someone better?” Voice A responded petulantly. Someone shifted their weight on my left. Was he standing beside me? Or maybe sitting? Whichever it was, he was close. I could feel his breath on my skin, warm and soft. Something grabbed me. It was warm too. Was that my hand? Was he holding my hand?

  “Healing is a rare gift. It also requires a lot of energy. Evelyn is the only person nearby who has that skill. You will have to be patient,” the other man replied.

  “What if it’s not helping?!” Voice A returned immediately. I felt like my brain was watching a game of tennis. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  “Do you not see the change? Do you not see the swelling going down? Her breathing getting easier? She is getting better. Just slowly.”

  “Why is it taking so long for her to heal?” Came a separate voice. Voice C had returned. He didn’t seem to be here as often as the other two.

  Someone hummed thoughtfully. It came from my right side, likely Voice B then. “It’s hard to say,” he replied.

  “Why not just give her blood and be done with this?” Voice C insisted, his words cold, targeted.

  “Don’t you even fucking dare!” Voice A screamed, letting go of whatever part of my body he had grasped and launching up so fast that something toppled over behind him.

  “Don’t you see, you selfish idiot? Then she could be with us, with me.” Voice C hissed in response. His tone was protective, territorial even. It would have been enough to send a shiver down my spine, could I feel it.

  “You will never make that choice for her. Either of them.” Voice A said in an unnervingly calm tone.

  “You know she’s mine. You can’t change that.” Voice C returned, dangerously tense.

&
nbsp; “Fuck that,” Voice A declared.

  The warmth vanished. The door slammed.

  “You have to stop antagonizing him,” Voice B said, harshly, the words clipped, like he was holding back anger.

  “You irrevocably tied her to us. Not me. If you have a problem with me declaring her as mine, you can only blame yourself.”

  “If she chose...she could challenge you. If you lose? You’re no longer the heir. I could sway her, as could he. Do not challenge me, child,” Voice B growled. His voice was rough and dark. It frightened me in a way it never had during my time eavesdropping.

  “You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t risk the ire of the Council or my father,” Voice C threatened.

  “I am the Council. Your father has his power because I wish it. Do not threaten her again,” Voice B declared. His voice boomed around the room, reverberating with a resonant power.

  There was more stomping, the door slammed again.

  Then there was silence.

  I’m not sure how long I managed to stay in the in between state. Long enough that Voice C decided to touch me. I think he grabbed my hand. His touch was cold. It almost felt clammy, like nervous fingers were gripping my own. Something stroked what I thought was my knuckles. I couldn’t have been sure. Curse this damnable lack of feeling…

  “You will be mine. There’s no use in fighting it. You will make me more than what I am. The sooner we both adjust to that, the better. Now, I just have to subtly guide you there…”

  “So...sh-she’s alive?”

  That was a voice I knew! That was Kellic’s voice! Kellic, like Will, was both family, and one of my two best friends. I was exultant to hear her voice so near to me.

  “For now.” There was Voice C again with his flippantly negative attitude. I couldn’t be sure how to feel about that one. He seemed to care for me at times, then seemed like I was only his golden ticket at others. Maybe he only cared for the opportunity I somehow represented?