Lucy at War

by Mary E. Twomey

  Lucy at War

  Book Seven in the Undraland Series

  An Undraland: Blood Novel

  By

  Mary E. Twomey

  Copyright © 2015 Mary E. Twomey

  Cover Art by Humble Nations

  Author Photo by Lisabeth Photography

  All rights reserved.

  First Edition: October 2015

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ISBN-13: 978-1517412647

  ISBN-10: 1517412641

  For information:

  http://www.maryetwomey.com

  DEDICATION

  For Madeline.

  You give me courage when I can’t find it,

  and you find me when I’m not me.

  To our many adventures.

  May they always be filled with laughter,

  long island iced teas,

  And a little world domination.

  One.

  Captured

  I awoke in the same cell I’d been held in for the past… I’m not sure how long. Suffice to say I’d been without a shower, the sun or sanity long enough to be on the edge of breaking down in horrifying tears on a daily basis. Though there were no windows, I was certain I was being watched by a dark blob above me in the corner of the ceiling. I saw it when the slot in the door opened to give me food. And by food, I mean tapioca-like oatmeal and water.

  I moved my arms and fought back a groan at the heaviness of the iron shackles around my wrists. They’d trained me well in the time they’d held me in the concrete cage. If I made a noise, the hard collar around my neck sent a little shock through me. It was in proportion to the volume, so I made sure not to open my mouth at all. The old Foss would’ve been thrilled. The one I loved? I’d like to think he’d Hulk out and destroy everyone who’d imprisoned me, leaving any hint of diplomacy at home.

  The sirens had poured something that burned like scalding honey down our throats when we’d first arrived at our lovely new abodes. It had damaged something in our throats, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to think about the possible permanence of that. I guessed, though, that since they viewed the shock collar as a necessary tool to keep us quiet, that our throats would eventually heal.

  I moved my arms again, shifting along the few inches I was allotted, pressing my lips together to silence the agony the slight jerk ripped through me. I was in the purest of blackness, unable to tell sometimes if my eyes were opened or closed. My arms were covered in a long-sleeved thin shirt and opera gloves to keep my painted stars from giving me any relief from the darkness. My wrists had been fitted with fetters – actual pirates or knights-era fetters, and the chains led to the floor, giving me precious little space to move at all. They didn’t even allow me enough slack to stand, so I alternated between kneeling, sitting on my butt and lying down. I could do pushups, which I’d never been stellar at before, but as I had nothing else on my schedule, I kept myself motivated and focused by doing as many as I could before I collapsed. I’d worked my way up to twenty-five, which may not sound like a lot to you, but it was about four times more than I’d been able to do before my imprisonment. I was malnourished, so each one was an effort I didn’t always have in me.

  Tucker. Tucker will die for this. I’d never considered myself a violent person growing up, but that one mantra kept me going through each pushup, granting strength to areas I’d been weak in before.

  Tucker St. James had been Jens’s old friend on the Other Side, a fire elf who tricked us all into thinking he was helping to hide me and keep me safe. Boy, was I a lousy judge of character. I’d hugged him and let him hold my hand, giving him the benefit of the very legitimate doubt time and time again. I downgraded myself from nearly grown woman to utter flake. It was the naïve idiot in me who thought every monster was a kitten and every villain was misunderstood and redeemable. It was what had me voting against the death penalty growing up and pushed me towards Foss. In some ways, I won that bet on my former husband. He really had grown to be a little more considerate, tracking me down after searching across states for me. Of course, he’d unwittingly led a group of bounty hunters right to me, but it’s the thought that counts. I wondered if Foss still thought of me as I did him.

  Wherever he was, I was certain of one thing: Jens was searching for me, leaving only the rock I was under unturned. It was his stubbornness in conceding a fight that fed me spoonfuls of solace in my darkest of moments.

  There had been thirty-two meals. I couldn’t be sure if they were feeding me twice a day or once, but it was definitely not more than that. I did my best to keep track of the passing of time by the sliver of dimness that greeted me when a tray was pushed into the cell at just the right spot for me to reach it if I really stretched.

  Jens would come for me. Jens was no doubt already on his way here, not that I knew where “here” was. Though, of the four men I’d ever kissed on the mouth, two were now dead. Best of luck for all involved.

  I wondered where Jamie was, and knew they were giving him or me something to mute our bond. I could feel him in that fuzzy kind of way you can feel cold smoke, but can never really hold onto it. We kept slipping in and out of each other’s minds, giving just enough human contact to keep me from turning into a raving maniac.

  I was terrified, freezing and ached all over. The only bathroom privileges I’d been granted were in the form of a bucket with a lid just within reach of my tether. Though as they continued starving me, that need grew less and less. It was just as well; I hated that someone on the other end of that camera was watching me. A few times I gave them the finger while relieving myself. The next meals had been half-portions in punishments. While I wasn’t above starving myself and rejecting any attempts at nourishment, I knew Jamie needed the sustenance. He had a baby on the way, and I wouldn’t jeopardize him getting to have his dream for anything in the world. Someone would get something good in the end; I was determined. For the pacifist I used to fancy myself, I knew I would fight to the death for something that important. I needed Jamie to make it out of this. He’d been cursed enough of his life. I was determined not to add to his misery.

  What bothered me, aside from the obvious, was that I had no idea why they were holding us. There had been no attempts to get information from me, no threats or demands made. I’d been simply fitted with the collar, given long-sleeved green scrubs to wear and cast into a pitch black cold cell that stank of freezing death.

  Jamie? Jamie? Can you hear me? I called. I tried to check in with him periodically throughout the day, but the response was the same. I heard nothing. I felt the presence of my buddy, but couldn’t get to him. It was unreal how much I’d grown to rely on our connection. Now that it was defunct in my hour of need, I had to fight with everything in me to stay calm. Jamie’d been the literal voice in my head to talk me out of ill-conceived ideas and coax me off a ledge. Now that he was muted, the loneliness and panic clawed at my insides, removing bits of flesh I desperately needed to keep from icing over.

  My fingers were stiff as I curled them, hoping sensation would return soon. When people used the term “iron grip”, they really had no clue. Though the irons didn’t dig into my skin if I was careful and kept my fists straight, they allowed my wrists little movement and were heavy as all get-out.

  Something invisible smacked me across the face, and I knew Jamie’d misbehaved. The surprise of it set loose a miniature squeak of pain, which s
ent a jolt of electricity through my body from my neck all the way to my toes. I silently sobbed and prayed that Jamie would stop, that he felt the sting on his end and realized I was barely holding on over here.

  Jamie! Jamie, it’s okay! You’re alright, sweetheart. I’m here! I’ll get us out of this somehow! Just stop pissing them off!

  I tried my pep talk to myself that Jens would find us, that Foss would somehow best their top security, but it had been weeks. Though they were my own thoughts, I knew they were false hopes. No way would either of them let this go on as long as it had if they could rescue us. Either they were searching in the wrong place, or they had assumed us dead. I blinked my eyes a few times, willing tears to go away. The thought of Jens giving up on me sent a horror through my spine that made the cold feel like a joke.

  Lucy? Lucy! I heard Jamie’s faint cry in the foggy distance.

  Jamie? I’m here! I can hear you! Trying to fend off my tears was no use at this point. Warm droplets heated my freezing face as they slid down my cheeks and splashed on the unmercifully hard floor.

  It’s the food! They’re putting something in the food to numb the bond. Don’t eat it! We’ll die quicker if we don’t have each other. Where are you? I can’t see anything. I’m in a cell and have no clue where I am.

  I was on my knees, leaning toward the door, pulling at my restraints. I don’t know where I am! I’m in the same kind of cell, but I haven’t heard anyone outside of it. I don’t know if it’s soundproofed, or if we’re just that far away from each other. Quick as I could, I conjured up my living room in our shared imagination. As soon as the fireplace, leather sofa and clean olive walls - that were in all reality burned to a crisp - appeared, we ran to each other, attacking in hugs and kisses like frantic puppies eager to greet their best friend.

  Jamie picked me up, and my legs wrapped around his waist. My thighs were strong again, not the weakened ones that were straining as I knelt on the concrete, blissed out in my vision. I cupped Jamie’s bearded face and kissed it all over, sobbing as he did the same to me. Though we’d never been so affectionate with each other in real life, our desperation fueled us as we sought comfort in whatever manner possible.

  Where are we? I’m so scared, Jamie! I’m losing my mind over here!

  Me, too, syster. Me, too. His arms around me tightened as he collapsed backward onto the rich caramel-colored leather of the couch I’d spent days poring over catalogs to pick out. He positioned me so I was straddling his lap and continued kissing my face, and then his lips trailed down to kiss feeling into my arms. We were starved for physical touch. This kind of torture took its own awful toll. My proper prince was desperate, as was I. Are you chained to the floor, too?

  Yes, and it’s awful! If only they’d tell us what they want!

  Jamie’s voice was grave as he stopped kissing my arms to look at me seriously. No matter what, we must not give them anything. Do you understand me? If they ask your name, you don’t tell them. Whatever they want, they won’t get it.

  But, your baby! I protested. We have to get you out so you can be there for your kid! I’ll tell them anything to make that happen. We have to get you out of here!

  He shushed me and hugged my body, rubbing warmth into my cold places. Jens will find us. All we have to do is stay quiet until then.

  I can’t take much more of this! I cried, imaginary tears wetting his green scrub shirt. Tucker stole my family’s ashes! He took my necklace! I need them with me!

  My tears and our state of heightened anxiety brought about an admission of despair from Jamie. They have rats in my cell. I hear them, but I don’t see them, so I never know when it’s safe to fall asleep without one of them gnawing on my face. It’s unsettling.

  I combed my shaking fingers through his curly chestnut hair, shushing his increasing worry. It’s not real, I told him, letting him in on a bit of technological torture I’d cottoned on to the first day. It’s just a recording made to make you think something creepy crawly’s in your cell. Have you ever felt a rat brush up against you?

  No, he admitted. You’re certain? It sounds so real.

  Surround sound, baby. I held tight to him, our torsos pressed together. So we’re not eating?

  Not a bite, and don’t drink the water either, he warned, squeezing me so tight, I was grateful my need for air was only imaginary in our bond.

  I could tell he wasn’t going to hold up much longer under these circumstances, so I stated the obvious. We won’t last long without food or water.

  Jamie nodded, understanding the implications of our choice. Then we die as ourselves, not the slobbering messes they intend on turning us into. We’re not very much alive in here as it is.

  What about your baby?

  Jamie clutched me and screamed into my shoulder. I held him as he let out the grief he was only just expressing. They aren’t going to let us go, Lucy. I don’t know why they have us, but I gave up hope a month ago that they would turn us loose. My child will know I loved him or her through Jens and Britta telling them every day. Jens will care for my child as if it were his own. Jens will watch over Britta.

  He will, I agreed, swallowing through the agony of coming to terms with never seeing my perpetual dragon-slayer ever again. My brain caught onto something Jamie had said. A month ago? I’ve counted thirty-two meals. Aren’t they feeding us every day?

  No, honey. Thirty-two meals consisting of one cup of oats. I’m fairly certain they’re feeding us once every other day. Two months. We’ve been here over two months. I think we’ve played their game long enough. I won’t stay here another week.

  I thought they were feeding us one or two times a day! There’s no way we can survive on what they’re feeding us! We’ll die soon anyway! Even if the meals were calorie-fortified, which I had to guess they were, no one could live forever on gruel.

  Jamie pulled back and nodded solemnly. Then we make that choice. They don’t decide when we die; we do.

  I returned his nod with tears, forming as much resolve as I could to resist the little food they gave us. I knew I’d thinned out by the looser fit of my filthy green scrubs, but as this was my imagination, I pictured myself as I wished I was – with a healthy amount of curves for a girl my age. I leaned my forehead against Jamie’s and exhaled. We live together or die together. Not another bite, I agreed.

  Jamie held me on his lap and brought my head to his shoulder to rest there. In our imaginations there were no rat noises, no torturous loneliness, and no social rules that kept men and women so very separate.

  Jamie smiled into my hair. I brought you something. Into the living room scampered my gray squirrel. I’d conjured him up when Jamie’d needed a distraction to keep from losing his mind back when Jeneve poisoned him with a curse that twisted his gentle personality.

  David Cassidy! I patted a spot on the couch next to us, and my sweet little squirrel jumped up so he could climb on our arms and perch on our heads and shoulders. I forgot about this little guy. Hey, buddy! I cooed, taking his bushy gray body into my hands. He pawed at Jamie’s half-inch long beard, making us both laugh.

  I hadn’t laughed in what felt like ages.

  Thanks, Jamie. I needed him. I tilted my head to the side as I examined my favorite prince. You get me.

  I do. But then again, I have the owner’s manual. Come here. Jamie pulled me into another hug, sighing contentedly as David Cassidy chittered between us. Though we were still freezing, the imagined body heat warmed our insides where it was needed most. I love you, liten syster.

  I love you, I whispered. Don’t leave me alone in there. Two months!

  Never. I’ll never leave you. He gripped me tighter. Though we were afraid, we would end this together.

  Two.

  Let it Come

  When the food tray came the next day, it was pushed through the small slot in the door just as it had been every other time. My stomach lurched while my body actually leaned to snatch at it.

  Control! Jamie warned me. We decide
when we die!

  I let out a silent sob and shoved the tray out of reach. Now no matter how much I was tempted, my iron restraints wouldn’t allow me to compromise the plan. Such a plan it was. Choosing to die.

  I spent the next innumerable amount of hours saying goodbye to my parents, my brother, Tonya, Jens, Britta and Jamie. I couldn’t think about Foss. I couldn’t even conjure up his face or think his name – the pain was too great. I loved him too horribly to say goodbye to him. There was no part of me that would allow even his memory near my current state anymore. I was ashamed at how low I had come, and knew his disappointment in my bedraggled state would be the first thing he would comment on. I loved him, and I deserved to die with that self-inflicted burden.

  Foss will always love you, Jamie told me, and I instantly wished for some of the bond-numbing food to keep my thoughts private. No! he scolded me. I’ll keep quiet, I promise. Don’t eat the food!

  I just can’t, I sobbed. He’s too… I’m too… I just can’t. Don’t say his name to me. I’m barely hanging on here.

  I’m here, Jamie assured me. My imagination was muted and bleak, so I could only conjure up an image of what I pictured I looked like in my cell, only with Jamie chained next to me, instead of wherever they had him holed up.

  The rat noises multiplied, along with something squishy and creepy that kind of reminded me of a worm or a spider or something. My spine tingled, knowing they were amping up the fear factor due to our defiance.

  My tears dried in that instant, and my besotted face drew into a menace I was glad I couldn’t see in a mirror. Let it come, I thought as much to myself as to Jamie. Whatever they’ve got for us? Let it come. I’ve got nothing left but breath, and I’ll choose when that stops.