by Claire Marta
Twitch was suffering. Teasag had another Jinn beating the boy. The creature’s fists had already left a pattern of swelling red bruises across his youthful face. One eye swollen shut, blood seeped from cuts and lacerations. Eric could smell it. The scent was strong to his vampiric senses. Magic laced, it was tantalisingly tempting. Centuries had passed since he had tasted a wielders blood. This was a distraction he did not need.
The fact Jasmine had asked Eric to protect the boy was making this all the more difficult. His conscious demanded he act. Logic and common sense aired on the side of caution. The witches were yet to catch on he was not a Jinn. This could be used to his advantage.
In the past Eric would have felt nothing. Watching Twitch being assaulted should have been of little concern. This is why he rarely got attached to those who were not Vampiria or vampires. Mortals broke far too easily. Even those supernatural or magic wielders with extended life spans eventually died.
The ruthlessness he once owned he now found gone. Concern for the mage poured through him. Hardening his heart, he stamped it down. Icy control was what he needed. But now that he knew Jasmine was alive, he was finding it difficult.
Eric had sensed her. There had been a trickle of pain, yet it had not been his. She had survived the cliff and the sea. Relief swelled through him. His little kitten was somewhere on the island. If she had any sense she would find a way back through the portal. Knowing her, as he did though, she was no doubt blundering into more danger.
Peril was drawn to her like a magnet. And she seemed to go to it willingly, drawn like a moth to a flame. At least she lived...
Twitch gave a blood splattered toothy grin. “Fuck, is that all you twat waffles have?”
Melinda pushed away from one of the walls of the large windowless room where she had been leaning as she watched his beating. “My my little brother, it looks like you have grown some balls in your time away.”
The mage spat in her direction. Spittle sailed across the distance to land by her foot in a small red wet dollop. “You would know all about that having a pair yourself, Melinda.”
The Jinn looming over him dealt a back handed blow. Twitch’s head jerked sideways, blood and saliva spewing from his swollen lips.
“Smart arsed now, I see,” Melinda murmured back. Wrinkling her nose in disgust, she stepped away from the blood. Her perfectly neat ringlets bounced gently around her flawless features.
Face hidden beneath a curtain of tangled, knotted, cinnamon curls Twitch snapped. “Fuck you.” A tremor ran through his shoulders. He was trying to be brave, but Eric could taste his fear.
“Shame about your girlfriend, but the red headed bitch got what she deserved. I’m sure the fishes are dining well on her corpse. You should never have brought a mortal here. They are far too breakable.”
Twitch’s head jolted up at his sister’s words. He paled. His expression was stricken for a moment before a look of pure hate replaced it. “When I get loose, I’m going to fucking incinerate you. The flames of hell will feel like a fucking breeze compared to what I am going to do.” His words dripped with venom.
“Where is Grandfather hiding?”
“I have no fucking idea, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell a traitorous cow like you,” he bit back, fighting against his bonds.
“Carbrey won’t get far. He is one old man,” Teasag uttered from where she sat, her voice low and husky. “I have what I need now anyway.”
The veiled crimson witch was sitting like an empress. Her well-built frame sat leaning back in a massive leather chair. A gathering of her shrouded followers were in attendance around her. Eric had heard her refer to them as handmaidens.
Melinda’s confidence waivered. Moistening her lips, nervously, she turned to the coven leader. “Three of my cousins are still missing…”
“They too are of no consequence,” Teasag reassured her with a wave of her hand. “Four magic wielders combined do not have the power to stop me now.”
“If you’re sure...” One of the handmaidens replied, hesitantly.
“I am. Besides, I think we have found the virgin that’s needed for tomorrow evening’s festivities.” The faintly discernible eyes beneath the netting fixed on their prisoner. “I know it’s outdated, but I do enjoy a good defilement.” Frowning, Melinda turned to stare at her brother.
“Don’t look at me, cuntbag. I had my cherry popped years ago,” Twitch told them as he glared through his dishevelled, curly locks.
The witch gave a deep, gravelly laugh. “Why do you lie? You should not be ashamed of something so precious. The young give it away too freely nowadays.”
The mage’s chin jutted out aggressively. “I am not a fucking virgin.”
“I have a nose for such things. Deny all you want, but I know the truth. I can smell your untouched innocence. You have no idea how special you are.” The well-shaped lips which could barely be seen beneath the veil stretched slightly in a grin. “Take him to a cell,” she told one of the other Jinn.
Eric could detect the stink of death around the crimson witch. It was not a physical smell, but a psychic one. The death of many was on this female’s hands. This was the only possible reason he could perceive it. He was curious why he had picked up no other scent. The witch seemed to be without one.
Eric was no fool. If Avalon fell to the darkness of these witches, then the plane Earth was on could swiftly follow. A war would no doubt ensue. The magic wielders around the globe would try to reclaim it back. Humans would become aware of their existence. This was not acceptable. A plan was and had always been set in place for when humankind became aware of others.
So far they had coped well with the existence of vampires. His own kind, the Vampiria, the born vampiric race, which was hidden among the turned human vampires, had guided this smoothly. So far it had gone well.
However, if humans became aware too quickly of other supernatural creatures and races which lived among them, it could become too much. They could turn fearful. Even violent. This was why the ruling races had all agreed to wait. It was a delicate matter.
He could not let Avalon fall into the wrong hands. Teasag had to be stopped.
A gentle sea breeze rustled Jasmine’s hair. Following Wyllt’s instructions, she carried on along the beach until she found herself below more cliffs. This had taken a few hours. The boatman had been very vague about what she would find. All she knew was that there was the means to destroy the orb.
Jasmine sighed. Distractedly, she tugged up the bust of the grey dress. He had also refused to give her a weapon saying she had all she needed with her. When she’d stolen one he had somehow known. Wyllt had shaken his head with a disappointed look and taken it back.
Frankly she would have felt happier with a knife or blade of some sort. The island obviously wasn’t the safest place to wander about unarmed. She had no defence. Wyllt’s raven glided above her in the cloudy sky. The bird seemed to be keeping an eye on her. Occasionally she could hear its cry.
She was at the other end of the island now away from the city. The mist had vanished. Wyllt explained that it only shrouded the island when the portal was open, for three hours, every few days. Now it was clear and she could see the vast green forest which stretched across half the land.
Jasmine clamoured over a large, grey, jagged rock. Sharp edges sliced into her hand, making her gasp. The terrain was unfriendly here. Checking the wound, she found it wasn’t too deep. Ripping a piece of cloth from her skirt she wrapped it around her palm.
Somewhere along the journey she had gotten the shakes. A fine tremor plagued her hands. Her stomach was also still cramping. Was this, she wondered, the start of the pain she was to face? The addiction for a vampire’s bite growing? So far it wasn’t so bad. Maybe she could live with it.
She was supposed to be looking for a cave. Wyllt was just as cryptic as the rest of the bloody magic wielders on the island. Jasmine wondered if he had sent her on a wild goose chase. She had not found a cave. All she co
uld see was miles of hard, unpleasant rocks. Scanning ahead, she could see a large, jagged, uneven stone against the cliff base. It looked inconspicuous, yet there was something about it that drew her to it.
Jasmine caught sight of a cave mouth. Narrow, it was a thin, black slash. The entrance marred the greyness of the rock face. If she hadn’t been looking for it then it would have easily been missed.
Nibbling on her lower lip, she tugged up the bust of her dress again. The bloody thing kept slipping down. Even though there was no one around, she still didn’t want her tits hanging out.
The wall was damp against her hand as she peered inside. She guessed the whole place was submerged when the tide was in. Seaweed and limpets clung to the rocky walls. Jasmine glanced uneasily at the sea. She didn’t like the thought of being trapped and drowning. The tide, though, was not yet coming in.
Impenetrable blackness lay ahead of her. The warmth of the sun ended as she stepped across the threshold. Rays seemed unable to pass the denseness of the dark. She shivered at the chill in the air.
So, she had found the cave. It really did not look inviting. Yet Wyllt had said there was something important inside. Silence lay ahead of her. Jasmine stood for a moment, squinting into the dark. Anything could be waiting. Her heart missed a beat. It sent a little buzz through her body. Without another thought she stepped into the tunnel.
The way was narrow. Turning sideways, she wiggled between the gap, edging slowly deeper. Cold, rough, rock walls were on either side. They were damp against her palms as she pressed them flat. Every so often her fingers connected with something slimy and limp. Barnacles and limpet shells would catch against her flesh.
Jasmine swore inwardly each time something hard and sharp would slice into her skin. This left it stinging. Her hands were so wet and cold now she couldn’t tell if any were bleeding. She continued to slowly worm onwards. The utter absence of light was unnerving. It made her almost frightened to speak. How she was going to see anything she still wasn’t sure.
The tunnel abruptly widened. She found she had plenty of space. One arm out blindly, she groped forwards, but could find nothing in the way. Using the wall as a guide, she shuffled forward.
Torches spluttered into life. They lit the dank tunnel, bathing everything in an orange glow. Eyes adjusting, Jasmine noticed they were on metal brackets secured into the stone. It looked like they had sparked into flames all by themselves.
Water dripping and the sound of her footsteps were the only sound that could be heard. Spine-chillingly eerie was the word. Jasmine stumbled forwards. Smooth, golden sand lay beneath her ankle boots. Soft and yielding. In silence, she continued on. She getting that cemetery vibe. A place of unnatural silence, and the feeling you shouldn’t be there.
That’s when her sixth sense kicked in. Starting right at the back of her brain, it started to ring. Softly at first, like a phone sounding in another room. Jasmine followed the line of flickering torches. The tunnel eventually opened up.
A large, deep pool lay in the centre of the cavern. The water was unnaturally still and crystal clear. Every hair on the back of Jasmine’s neck rose. The shrill warning of her sixth sense was getting louder. Almost painfully in its intensity, it rang through her head. Jasmine moved cautiously.
She really didn’t want to be caught off guard. What the fuck could be so important that Wyllt would send her down here? A large oval boulder jutted from the centre of the pool. The whole thing was covered in thick layers of slimy looking ropey seaweed. They glistened in the soft light. Torches encircled the area. This was enough to keep most of the shadows at bay.
“Hello?” Jasmine’s voice echoed around the space.
She noticed a form at the edge of the water. The woman sat with her back to her. It looked like she had her legs immersed in the pool. She sat hunched. The dress she wore was more like a tent. Lumpy, it was like a sagging sack of beige cloth. Her hair hung in sodden clumps down her back. The strands were matted and saturated with sand.
“Wyllt sent me,” Jasmine murmured uneasily. Her hand crept to the bust of her own dress which had slipped down again. Heart starting to pound in her chest, she tugged the garment back up. Her eyes were pinned to the woman.
Every single horror movie Twitch had ever made her watch on their film nights started reeling through her head. Mostly it was the Japanese ones. The kind with the freaky little girl who lived in a well. She was trying hard not to think about it, but the images kept playing. This was freaking her out.
Foreboding scuttled down her spine like a crab. Jasmine glanced around nervously. She noticed the bone shards in one corner of the cavern. They were piled in a heap of gleaming white. Rags and other bits of clothing were scattered around it.
Oh fuck. A cold sweat broke out over her body. The woman didn’t move, but the skirts of her dress did.
For a moment Jasmine thought she was adjusting her legs. That was when she realised she had more than two. The garment was withering in the back as well as the front.
Dread crept up her neck like a ghostly hand. The sand beneath Jasmine’s feet tilted. Caught off balance, she fell sideways. She grunted as she hit the floor.
The sand was damp and gritty under her palms. Confusion ricocheted through her. Turning her head she checked the ground. Wiggling worms were poking out from where she had been standing. They were chunky and red like fat sausages. Squirming, they seemed to curve towards her. The sand crumbled and shifted. These she discovered, were no worms.
Tentacles. Thick as rugby player’s thighs, they were rubbery and fleshy. The quivering suckers ran their lengths. Jasmine lay frozen. She was trying to process what the fuck she was seeing. A mass of tentacles twisted menacingly in the water. Veins throbbed and bulged from the stretched skin.
The woman contorted backwards unnaturally. Her entire body bent in two. The red tentacles writhed around her. A mouth gaped open. This wasn’t in the usual place. No, this was where the woman’s waist should have been. The whole section separated, revealing razor sharp rows of serrated, algae green teeth.
Jasmine kicked into action. “Not good. Not good. FUCK,” she chanted, scrambling backwards.
Abnormally, huge, yellow eyes were glued to her from the sides of its head. They were watery pale as if it spent most of its time in perpetual darkness. The skin, of what she could see of the body, was a quivering gelatinous mass of tangled limbs. Jasmine was reminded of a giant squid or octopus. One from her fucking nightmares.
A meaty, muscled tentacle wrapped around her left leg. The rubbery flesh was cold and clammy. Jasmine tried to kick it away but it wouldn’t let go. With a jolt it began to pull. The cavernous mouth opened and closed slowly. With a tug, it dragged her towards the watery depths.
Adrenaline flooded her nervous system. Her heart was thundering hard in her chest like it was trying to get out. She could sense the monster’s hunger for her flesh. Jasmine kicked it again. This time she used the heel of her boot, digging it in as madly as she could. Its flesh was dense. She barely managed to dent the surface.
It still must have hurt because the creature roared. Jasmine found herself airborne. She was tossed in the air like a toddler with a shiny new rattle. The blood flow kept whooshing from Jasmine’s head to her feet. Her stomach felt like it was jerking up into her mouth. The world became a sickening whirl of colours and sounds.
Worse than any amusement park ride, it was a million times more terrifying. At any moment she was likely she be smashed, crushed or drowned. That’s if it didn’t decide to stuff her in its gaping maw first.
As she flopped close to the rock in the centre of the pool, she grabbed blindly at anything secure. Her fingers knotted in slick, slimy seaweed. They seemed to be anchored to the surface. Curling it around her hands, she held on desperately. The monster yanked at her legs. Pain shot up through her imprisoned limbs and up into her back. Jasmine screamed.
The seaweed slipped from her hands. Shaking one hand free, she searched frantically for somethin
g better. Her breaths were coming out in short, jerky pants. Any moment she might lose her grip. Sweat sprang up on her forehead and lower lip.
Cold, hard metal met her finger tips. Without hesitation, Jasmine grasped hold of it. A handle. She had hold of one side and it didn’t seem to want to budge. Freeing her other hand, she hunted for the other.
The creature still had a hold of her. She could feel the bone-splintering pressure it was exerting round her legs. The burn of its suckers was working their way through the layers of her flesh. Blood trickled like a caress across her skin. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Literally.
Panic was screaming blindly through her. Her arms and shoulders were burning with the ridged strength she was using to cling to the handle. She felt like she was being wrenched in two. The second time in only twenty four hours. How much more could her body take?
Jasmine’s eyes focused on the handle. No. A hilt. A sword hilt, to be exact, was what she was clinging to for dear life. Her mind worked furiously. The rest of it had to be embedded within the boulder. Would it hold? If it was eroded it wouldn’t last long. Was there any way she could get it loose? This was a weapon, after all.
Monstrous tentacles once more yanked on her legs. More power was exerted in its pulls as if it was done playing. Had it worked up an appetite and now wanted dinner? Her legs were going numb. Heart thumping so fiercely it felt like it might crack her ribs. Another spike of adrenaline shot through her. Everything zoomed sharply into focus. Everything seemed brighter, every smell stronger.
Jasmine’s grip tightened furiously on the sword. No way was she about to let go. No. Fucking. Way. Something tingled against her sixth sense. Faint at first, it was just a glimmer of something potent slumbering. The sensation was enough to galvanize her into action. Her mind shut off as instinct took over.
Jasmine wrenched upwards with her hands. The movement provoked the sensation she was feeling. It flared upwards. In an upsurge of momentum, the force blazed. Mystic energy pulsed through her palms. Gushing up her arms, it energized her body.