Bound

by Lee Taylor

  “Damn it.” I grumbled to myself.

  Slowly Arkham began to pace toward me, a skinless smile reaching from ear to ear with his mottled flesh. I slid across the tiles and grasped at a shard of mirror. I swung it wildly at him as he approached; again it passed harmlessly through him. His brows arched over his beady eyes, and I could see him dripping with glee, what with his teeth and face caught in his constant petrified grin, slowly moving his head from side to side, his hollow eyes not breaking contact. I tried to make a break for it, getting past him with the shard. The door was locked, and so I fidgeted with the glass and saw that on my top it said sotkra. I would say I was relieved at finally making out the word written over my heart, but as soon as Arkham realised what I had done he took the opportunity I gave him and plunged forward, knocking me flying in the air. I smashed through the bathroom door. The impact snatched the wind from my chest before I could utter a syllable, and sent me sprawling over the landing and backwards down the staircase. When I opened my eyes blood was clouding my vision. And so I tried to call out mustering what breath I could.

  “Sotkra!” I rasped. Footsteps drew nearer to me as I lay coughing up blood on the bottom of the staircase. Nothing spectacular was happening. The thought finally occurred to me that the words written on my shirt in the mirror had been inverted... When I finally looked up, wiping the blood from my view, I could see George frowning down at me standing with another man who looked human. He stood several feet behind him wearing an expensive tailored suit but was caped in blood. A lethargic outburst broke through me, and I spotted Arkham float down my imaginary staircase. His smile instilled me with the feeling that I had just consumed a litre of liquid nitrogen. Tears began to trickle down my face.

  The colours of my house faded from the dazzling white that coated the stair case, draining away into a dull red. I cried out, not sure what good it would do. Hoping that calling the name would take my pain away. My brain finally put together the fragmented chips to form the word that had so cleverly evaded my incomprehensible mind.

  “ARKTOS!” I gurgled, screaming the words. The figures looked at each other as if they were expecting the word to make any difference. I started to fade into the red ochre that surrounded me like a veil between worlds; their devilish eyes glinted as they glowered at my dwindling form, and the man in a suit spoke to the others. I could not hear. Slowly they lifted me from the haze that had engulfed me; I lay limp in their grip.

  It was the sound of my heart slowing that soothed me, lulling me to rest with its morbid melancholy.

  Chapter 23

  “How long is he going to be like that?” Mike asked, his eyebrows pinching together in concern, pointing over to me, as I lay mumbling in my dream state. Brushing his hand casually through his hair, Mike leant against the cells wall. His clothes were soiled from the ordeals he had been through, dried blood ringed around his neck tainting his once white polo top. Lycaon was trying to listen to my thoughts, hoping to hear a murmur as to what was happening; there was a stiff silence with crackles and hums as he attempted to focus in on my mental quarrels. His effort was wasted, it was like trying to fine-tune a radio station which didn’t exist, and so defeated, he turned to Mike, assuming that some well-mannered reassurance would be required right now as grim as the situation was.

  “It will take as long as it has to for Ursine to learn what is required. Rest assured, as soon as he does, he will return to us. Ivan has already managed to break the blood-magic that was holding his forms apart. Now it is up to Ursine to reconnect with his other half.” Lycaon realised how bleak the situation was looking. And the truth is, even if Ursine figured out what was required, George and his companions could be down at any moment, and he still wasn’t sure what grim fate George had in store for them. Parts of what was happening just didn’t add up. Why would George go out of his way to make sure that they were all put together? Usually when dealing with these sorts, they were not akin to a monologue while their captives escaped. George was too brutal for that, he could sense it. Or was George really that short sighted? George was opulently arrogant at times and yet, he did not seem that dense. Kitty nodded in agreement at Lycaon’s unuttered words. Lycaon was beginning to understand why I had been complaining so much. He hadn’t even thought the words so much as deduced their circumstances, and yet she seemed able to pluck the thought from his head. Lycaon was disturbed at the mental trespassing, squinted his eyes into a grimace, attempting to pick any thoughts from Kitty. Still nothing, but that was not as surprising as she was not lycanthropic in decent, and of course he had not bitten her either.

  “You are right, you know, mate. I think this “George” has some other motives for this.” Mike said nothing; although he was listening in, he knew that Kitty’s past pained her to speak of. When he asked her questions before, she would usually tell him to drop the subject, and when he didn’t, she would make the floor swallow him up to his mouth and leave him breathing through his nostrils until she decided to allow the floor to spit him up.

  Yeah, she was definitely touchy with her whole past subject, Mike commented to himself releasing a sigh,

  “I said I knew of him. My sister and I... we were only little. We thought that we were finally getting some luck to come our way with a new home that could take both of us in, but some flippin wanker had other plans.” Kitty broke off, upset at what she had just mentioned out loud, her jaw hung open for a minute as she looked around the room. Changing the subject she asked a question out loud which neither Mike nor Lycaon was sure if she was addressing them or if she simply was saying what was on her mind.

  “Eh, you don’t think that that prick George has warded the entire room do you?” Mike and Lycaon looked at each other, exchanging a gormless glance before facing Kitty. Mike shrugged and smiled.

  “I am asking because I really don’t think that we are equipped to take thirty of em out.” She thumbed toward the door. Lycaon was taken back with her gesture, although Kitty may at a glance appear to be a powerful embodiment of femininity with her lavish hair, jewellery and somewhat risqué attire, yet the way that she spoke and acted was very tomboyish. She was a paradox. After mentally evaluating Kitty, Lycaon allowed the words to sink in.

  The outer chamber door opened, and there was a grim silence followed by a rhythm of footsteps huddled together, shuffling down the steps to the dungeon’s entrance. Lycaon surged forward, pressing against the door, and began to change, dropping onto all fours. He stretched out again, his temperature rising, and his skin splitting with the movement, revealing a dull glow, growing brighter as his bodies metamorphosis reached its climax. The air was filled with ash from his form, he looked skinnier than usual, and Kitty looked at him oddly. She noticed it too.

  Lycaon nudged the table that he had been lying on minutes earlier in an attempt to barricade the door.

  “Right then, lads, here’s the plan as it stands. Mike, seal the door; I don’t care if you have to make that door and that table have a baby. I know the strain is going to hurt, but it’s your own fault for not building your muscle up enough,” Kitty chided. She wasn’t joking, and Mike knew it. He had a rough idea of what he was going to do. Part of Mike’s ability was playing with molecules, and with that he could influence the state of matter; like changing something solid to a liquid, to a gas, then condensing the gas back again, or even changing gas to plasma… He had only accomplished this once though, and that was what saved my life. It was when the Helsing Agent had pointed the gun at my head and pulled the trigger. Mike had ionized all the air around me to the point that when the gun fired, although it did not stop the bullet dead, it did prevent it from smearing my brain all over the floor. Now, what Mike was going to do was simple in comparison. He was going to take all the moisture from the table, put it into the door, and make it swell in its mantle and freeze shut.

  Unfortunately, Mike being Mike began to try and melt the table and door so they could conjoin together. As a result, both burst into flames. Some people say t
hat you can do anything, and that it just comes down to mind over matter… Those people don’t know Mike…

  “OH Shit! Sorry, sorry, sorry sorry!” Mike ran back from the table cursing and whimpering. Dancing around the room in a panic, thinking that the flames had spread to his clothes he patted himself vigorously.

  “I am sooo sorry,” he said, avoiding eye contact. Lycaon found the scene slightly amusing although he was not willing to admit it, especially with the imminent threat that stood on the other side of the charred door. Kitty made no attempts at hiding her feelings, her brow furrowing, giving her youthful face decade’s worth of wrinkles.

  “Um... Mike... What the hell was that?” Kitty asked; she was a little more disgruntled than usual. Mike gulped in a lungful of air before answering.

  “I tried to make them... You know... Come together like you said... It always worked with the coins!” His voice was high-pitched and scratchy; even an observer could tell that he was not comfortable.

  “Michael, dear... I was using it as a metaphor... I didn’t really flippin expect you to try and melt them together... I wanted you to melt the shackles into nails and force that door to stay shut. What on earth made you think that you could melt wood?” She paused angrily, looking around the room while she thought of what else to say.

  “Lycaon, did you tell him that he should melt the wood?” Kitty’s asked, her mocking tone was sprinkled with the anxiety that she felt more so now that the doorway was more than breachable. With a disgruntled moan she began sifting through pieces of the charred remains. Profanities were rolling off her tongue more frequent than her heartbeats, stringing together into one long intricate insult that could make a sailor blush. Mike was behind her in an instant, not helping, but just standing in her proximity so that he could help if she needed it. Kitty flicked a glance over her shoulder and huffed before finally speaking.

  “You really need to pay attention in physics,” Kitty said. Mike nodded and was pouting, Lycaon could not tell from where he was standing if it was genuine or not, but the taste of adoration was in the air. Mike was lusting over Kitty, like a childhood crush, and being in his lycanthropic form meant that he could taste it.

  One of the downsides, Lycaon grumbled to himself.

  “Do you understand now, mate? Wood does not melt it... what?”

  “It burns,” Mike mumbled, and his bottom lip hung so far out that his answer was almost inaudible.

  “Right then, okay... What can we do?” Kitty mused for a moment, trying to think of the available options as the door handle shook as it was being unlatched. Lycaon was over in an instant, his four legs propped him at an angle in which supported the door, whilst quietly praying to himself that he wasn’t putting enough force on it to break it.

  “Okay, mate. I want you to pee for me if you can?” Kitty asked. Lycaon was comically puzzled; releasing deep sighs and grunts in his wolf form. It was one of the most bizarre requests he had been asked. Kitty tutted, rolling her eyes she began to elaborate.

  “Look, Lyc, would you kindly pee so that I can help secure the door... Frozen water expands... And at the moment we don’t have enough to make that big a difference.” Lycaon’s breath caught in his chest, exhaling a slow huff of air as he realised that she wasn’t joking. Lycaon wasn’t really gifted with a normal sense of humour; instead he was instilled with logic, honour and duty. Working alongside Kitty was tiring for him, almost as much as dealing with me. But he had to admit that she had something about her, like a rival Alpha’s had. Something that was commanding even if not a little unorthodox, but still. Kitty was not without her charms. Grunting and blushing even in his wolf form Lycaon set about expelling some unnecessary bodily fluids. She cringed at the pungent odour.

  “This really isn’t going to be pretty; okay... in a minute I am going to do what we women are famous for, multitasking. And all that I want you two boys to do is get out of my way!” Kitty snapped, Lycaon went to turn, but she threw her arm up and pinned him in place.

  “Not right now! Bloody hell, I said in a minute.”

  Apologies Lycaon sent to her.

  I misunderstood Kitty nodded in acceptance. A slow steady stream from Lycaon’s urine began to trickle towards the door, following the crevices in the stone flooring along the cement lines, pausing before reaching the frame, which was now shaking on its hinges with the force behind bashing away. The door absorbed the moisture, warm steam still rising from the now sodden surface. Kitty began to tremble where she stood. Lycaon thought that she was on the verge of a mental break down, but it was the exact opposite. The air seemed to chill around where she stood and the stones on the ceiling and the walls around her began to seep out their moisture that they had been holding within. Whenever Kitty absorbed moisture this way it reminded her very much of passing through a cloud-bank in an airplane with the dry looking surfaces in the interior, but as soon as the plane passed through a cloud it was like the fuselage began to weep. Lycaon and Mike were stunned as they watched the free flow of water gather and disperse into the door. Clapping her hands together Kitty called out.

  “Now! Get out the soddin way!” Her voice resonated in the chamber; Lycaon dived from the door, pouncing across the room in a single movement. The air was still chilling around him. Even in his form he could feel the gathering energy, torrents, slotting together around Kitty, strings of the unseen force burning his nose with the sensation. Clapping her hands as soon as he had moved from it, the seeping wet door was frozen instantly, changing from a fluid to solid as quick as a light switch flicks from off to on. Now Lycaon and Mike fully understood what she was trying to accomplish, there was a howl permeating from the other side of the door, muffled, cries of outrage. Kitty seemed very smug at what she had just accomplished, taking a step back to admire her work. Her step faltered. Lycaon’s reactions were as precise and flurried as a seasoned gun fighter from a spaghetti western. Closing the gap between them instantly, he let her fall onto his back where he nudged her lightly, encouraging her to stand.

  Mike was still staring at the door doe-eyed and slack jawed. Up until that point the only powers he had seen Kitty employ were possessive techniques, like she had exercised with him the night in the alley, when I vanished. Touching the door, it wasn’t as cold as he expected, but the side of the door and all the crevices were filled with ice.

  “Step back from the door you, eejit.” Mike paused, looking to Kitty to see if she was amused or scowling; his tongue was on the verge of crossing the threshold of his lips. She sighed at his gormless expression.

  “Drugs really did a number on you, didn’t they?” She turned and patted Lycaon appreciatively for steadying her. With a grunt and deep exhalation of air Lycaon moaned, she chuckled.

  He is as bad as Ursine... You could see that he wanted to lick the door that I had just urinated on... Lycaon shook his head in disdain at what Mike had just tried, and glanced at the door that had suffered the sudden “cold snap.”

  “You are a speedy one, aren’t ya? I hope not in all departments,” Kitty said seductively.

  Lycaon blushed again; he wasn’t accustomed to being flirted with. He always did his best not to socialize or fraternize. He had several pack mates back when there was not a big divide for powers amongst the lycan packs, but when the Summers came to their land and slaughtered countless others just for the territory, all the fraternization stopped.

  The voices on the other side of the door sounded more excited, more animated now, and that was definitely not a good thing now the cold chill had disappeared along with most the moisture from the surroundings being channelled to a point and frozen. It had left an odd scent in the air... A dry stale copper and salt smell, looking at the torturous surroundings the effervescent hum of blood made sense.

  “Okay so let’s say that door can hold for another two minutes, then what?” Mike asked discerningly.

  Well if the door holds in place then we can wait for sleeping beauty and the old man to wake up... If not, then we don�
�t have an escape plan; I am sure you can smell it Lycaon, but he also coated all the walls in blood, making the whole room useless to us.” Mike looked at her blankly, and the point was lost. Lycaon however gripped the basics and though not verbally, he mentally added to the conversation.

  So he has in affect put us in here in straitjackets in a proverbial rubber room. Lycaon sneered. He was terrified at the prospects of blood-magic. Blood-magic is used from draining life forces, effectively murdering people then absorbing their essences to make the users power grow. Whatever George was dealing with, he made Kaitlyn’s magic look like Lance Burton’s show in Vegas, beautiful, terrifying and weak in comparison. The room began to shake almost on cue, dancing on a waltz that even Lycaon with his heightened hearing could not discern. He could, however, hear the loud shouts and bangs on the other side of the door. He could hear familiar voices. The Summers were there. A resounding voice reverberated the inside of the chamber. The violent tremors from within seemed to be moving every brick, like the stones were coming alive with their masters tone.

  “It’s futile to resist; I made this place after all, brick by brick I selected and brought here, sealing the door with a basic shift from a liquid to a solid. You know if you would simply kill someone the power that it can give you is astounding. Let me show you.” The room grew still although George’s presence was still felt. Seconds ticked by without so much as a whisper to be heard. Mike stared intently at the door, terrified of what awaited him on the other side.

  “Mike look out-” Kitty was caught off guard as well. A crimson hand had reached out from the wall and had snatched a handful of her hair while another materialised and covered her mouth. Lycaon turned to help only to be tackled to the floor by a larger black set of tendrils that held him in place, coiling around his body. Mike was lifted by an arm that appeared from the ceiling; its grip on his throat slowly tightened. All the assailants hadn’t existed a moment before, so this was blood magic. This was why it was revered; it could breathe false life into existence, a suitable power for the Necromancer.