by Unknown
One by one, they fell only to be replaced by another that appeared from seemingly nowhere. We were surrounded. They filtered into the room from every window and doorway, slipping past any barriers that stood between them and their prize. Where was Rhys? Was he okay? I didn’t have the time to worry as they swarmed us. Bursts of electrified light flew from my fingers wildly and aimless, hitting anything that could be managed as a last ditch effort to survive this hellish ordeal. Claws raked down my back, burning as they went. A heavy pressure wrapped around my throat, flinging me backwards. I flew through the air and smacked the far wall with a loud crack as my head hit the blocks. My vision blurred and my head swam, I feared I would soon be unconscious. The shadows began to move in for the kill, taking their time and savoring every moment of my terror. Everything was starting to fade. Perhaps the darkness would be better. No more pain. I could find peace.
“Maya, get up. You have to get up. Fight back!” It was Rhys.
A faint flicker in the back of my mind kept me from giving in. What was it? Images flashed through my mind of Rhys and myself, of Angie. I had to fight, if not for me than for them. My mind had become a thick mud-like substance that I had to struggle and swim through in hopes of breaking through the surface. I came back to myself slowly.
Rhys was beside me, flinging little balls of light of his own at the oncoming hoard of Bacalou. Arlen was on my other side. He looked ethereal as he fought tirelessly. I struggled to my feet, slightly dizzy, my body protesting the whole way. The shirt I wore felt heavy and sticky, when I pulled it away from my skin I instantly knew why. Blood had soaked through, covering the back while small splotches stained the front.
“Enough!” A deep male voice reverberated throughout the room. The Bacalou scattered away from us and disappeared back into the shadows from whence they’d come.
Brad stood in the doorway, appearing fit, dapper, and smug like he had been the first night I saw him in the Spotted Cat. My gut told me that something was very off about this man. He strode forward, stopping several feet away.
“Nice to see you again, Maya. I fear the circumstances aren’t ideal, but I do believe we have some business to attend to.”
With a flick of his wrist, Rhys and Arlen were thrown into opposite walls and suspended by some unseen restraints. From what I remembered, zombies didn’t really have any magical abilities. They just mindlessly followed orders and were the muscle behind the man. The person whose body was taken over was essentially gone, not being able to control themselves or their minds. Their memories disappeared and their body’s went on like any normal person, usually dying because the thing squatting inside them, pulling all of the strings, usually didn’t bother to take care of their hosts. They lived to serve their masters. Whatever Brad was, it was not a zombie.
“Where’s Angie? What the fuck have you done with her, you sick freak?” I screamed at him.
A cruel smile touched his face. “Ah, yes. She has been quite fun, however my employer deemed that she would be much more useful to him if she were with him instead of enjoying our company,” he said, motioning to the shadows that slithered around the room waiting for their signal to finish us off.
Nausea rolled through my stomach, he made my skin crawl with discomfort to even have him near me.
“And where can I find him?” My tone was clipped, asked through gritted teeth.
“Well, if things were only that simple. You see, we have the small matter of the deals you’ve been striking up all over the place. My employer would just as soon not have to try to strike up a bargain for you. You do belong to him now, don’t you?”
I stiffened. How could he possibly know that? Was he watching me? Shit.
“How do you know that?” Confirming everything that he’d just said, I couldn’t meet Brad’s eyes.
He chuckled. “You really are stupid. You think that you can get to where we have gotten without having eyes everywhere? There isn’t anything that you could do that we wouldn’t know about.”
I knew that Rhys had heard every word that Brad had said. I refused to meet his eyes. I couldn’t take the hurt expression that would surely be on his face. We just needed to get out of there and then maybe I could confront the dreaded conversation that I knew would lead to the end of us.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I hated feeling so helpless. This smug prick thought that I was done, giving up. The only thing I was giving up was my patience and tolerance for putting up with anymore psycho bullshit.
“So, are you going to sit here and gloat or are you going to kill us and get it over with?” I let the snark loose on him a bit. The venomous glare almost made me regret goading him. It was reassuring though that I was capable of getting under his skin. Now, if I could just get into his head.
He crossed the short distance between us and let his hand fly out, making solid contact with my cheek. My head snapped sideways. The side of my face hot from the impact. I could taste blood in my mouth. I spit on his shoes in a dare for him to lay a hand on me again. Should he try it, one of us wouldn’t be walking out of there at the end of the day. My bet was that it would end with him rotting on the floor.
My head throbbed all through. It was making it hard to concentrate enough to pull that familiar prickly magic to the surface. I needed to figure something out. Maybe if I could get Rhys and Arlen loose from their bindings then they could take Brad out while I distracted him.
My back had finally stopped bleeding leaving the shirt to dry into a hard crust that kept trying to stick to my shredded, angry skin. I peeked over at Arlen, one of the Bacalou were creeping closer to him with every pass as it circled in the shadows. After the fourth pass, it was close enough that it reached out and slashed at his leg. Arlen groaned. Spittle flew from his lips as he tried in vain to conceal his pain. He could do nothing because of the imperceptible bindings that held him.
“I think Drake will enjoy taking his time with you, maybe dragging it out.” Brad strode closer to me. His hot, wet breath fanned over my face. He smelled like death. The stench clung to me as he refused to move back away. He leaned forward and ran his tongue over my lips. I screwed my face up, trying not to vomit. The man was vile.
“Sweet. Mmm, like raspberries. Maybe he’ll let me play with you. Maybe he’ll play with you himself? Fucking you raw until you scream and beg for it to stop, then maybe he’ll slit your throat and let you choke on your own blood.” His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he sighed, adjusting himself. Sick motherfucker.
“Don’t fucking touch me! You’re disgusting!” I lashed out, ripping my nails across his face. He was barely phased and seized me by the arm. He dragged me across the room to stand in front of Rhys. He settled behind me and ran the back of his hand down my cheek before wrapping his thick, stumpy fingers around my throat. Luckily, he didn’t squeeze or apply any more pressure. I felt my magic swirling under my skin, leaving me feeling antsy for its release. It wanted out almost as much as I wanted to let it out and get the fuck out of there. An idea danced at the edges of my mind and the lower Brad’s free hand slid down me, the more I wanted to entertain that idea.
Brad removed his hand only briefly to fish a blade from his pocket before returning his attentions to my breast. He ran the tip of it down me, hooked it into the delicate material of my shirt and drawing it down, splitting my shirt in two and exposing my bra clad breasts before Rhys. I tried to wiggle and cover myself, but Brad pressed the knife harder against my flesh, preventing any further movement.
“Ripe as a plump peach, isn’t she? Maybe we should have a taste, hmm?” He taunted and tortured Rhys who had no way to turn away or help me. Rhys growled, the anger flaming his face.
My head was beginning to clear enough to focus on exactly what I wanted to do.
Brad grabbed me by the back of my hair. “Maybe we should continue this little party-”
A hard smack echoed through the room and Brad let out a throaty groan before collapsing at my feet. I spun to meet a fierce Arl
en standing behind him with the glowing stick. How had he broken free? Rhys dropped to the ground a few seconds after Brad had fallen like a rock, unconscious. Our momentary reprieve was upset by swift breeze zipping around us. Bright flashes of violet swirled about the room aimlessly.
The three of us huddled together, back to back as the Bacalou began to scream like banshees and darted around the room. It was the single most terrifying sound I’d ever heard in my life. I wanted to cover my ears and protect myself from the horrific shrieks. They came closer on each pass, slowly closing in around us. One would dip closer to us, swiping at us with its dark shadowed talons that would cut through flesh like a hot knife through butter. We were surrounded and there were dozens of them. Some hung back in the corners between the ceiling and the walls, waiting for their opportunity to jump in on the action. I readied myself. The familiar glow began to pool in my palms, ready to be unleashed on the next thing that came too close to us. I felt Rhys strike out at something behind me. Arlen’s swift movements mirrored Rhys’s. Neither man strayed far from our little trio. We had each other’s backs and, should one of us fall, we would all likely befall the same fate.
They were within a foot of us. The screams were deafening making it hard to focus on anything other than them. The shadows were so thick they were casting us into darkness if not for our little energy orbs.
I had to do something. There was no way out. The Bacalou were too thick and vicious to try to escape through. We would have to fight. I decided to take the battle to them instead of waiting meekly for my death. If I was going to die, then I was doing it on my terms. I let out a shrill scream and started throwing those little bursts as fast as I could manage. Ashes flew around us as we fought. Lacerations decorated almost every inch of flesh that was bare. My limbs were getting heavy with exhaustion. My head was hot with searing pain, but I refused to take my focus off of them. I pushed on. My palms were blistered from the heat of the magic pouring from me. I was thankful that it hadn’t failed me yet, but I knew that it was coming. I could only hold so much. It was bound to happen and by the feeling of weakness and of being on the verge of collapse, my end was near. Where were they coming from? The three of us had to have dispatched over fifty of them by now, but they kept coming one after another.
Something was building in my chest. It was a strange sensation almost like a pressure that kept growing and it was getting harder to ignore. It filled me with dread. Could that be it? Was that the end of my magic? My eyelids were starting to droop and my limbs started to get chilly. I couldn’t ignore the fact that all of this was not the Bacalou siphoning off my life force. I was extinguishing myself. I tried to build up a dam within myself to keep it contained just a little bit longer, but it wasn’t working. With every brick that I tried to push into place for that wall, it was pushed right back out with a much greater force. I was straining to stay upright. My body was getting hotter and I knew I didn’t have much time before I would combust from the inside out. The building pressure was making it hard to breathe. I could no longer think about anything else, but the mass growing and spreading like cancer through me. Talons raked down my cheek just barely missing my eye. I cried out and fell. Rhys tried to reach for me, though he couldn’t get to me from his own battles. Arlen was locked in his own little world, sending them back one by one to the hell from which they’d come.
I couldn’t hold it back any longer. The surging heat within me was about to erupt. I gave it one last shot. I gave it my everything, trying to hold it back for one last second. I saw a bright flash as the pressure exploded from me. It was the last thing that I witnessed before the blackness overtook me, enveloping me in an endless nothingness.
Chapter FIFTEEN
Difficult Truths and Harsh Realities
Light filtered in and brightened my eyelids, rousing me from my unconsciousness. It stung and I tried not to open them while I took stock of my body. I knew the damage must have been pretty severe and I hadn’t yet determined if I was dreaming or dead. With a little more consciousness, I braved opening my eyes and stretched slightly. Light was streaming in through the windows with a light breeze that made the curtains dance. The aches made themselves known with full force, almost enough to double me over if it weren’t for the fact that it would hurt too much to move. I flung the blanket back and took in the rest of me. My thin underwear and my bra were the only clothing items I had on and mottled bruising covered huge areas on my legs and stomach.
How was I not dead? Bits and pieces of the fight were coming back to me, the hoard of Bacalou and Brad as he hit the floor after Arlen’s assault. The room was empty, save for me. Where had the men gone? The room was familiar to me. I knew I was in Rhys’s house. It was his room.
Booted footsteps sounded on the wooden floorboards coming down the hall. They stopped outside the door for a second before the creak of old hinges sounded in the silence and the door swung inwards.
Rhys’s comforting smile poked into the room. He seemed thrilled when he looked me over.
“Good, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”
I thought it should be obvious by the permanent grimace I had, but I humored him anyways.
“Like I got hit by a bus. What the hell happened?”
The floor creaked again. I caught a glimpse of Arlen making his way into the room as silently as a predator. He didn’t make himself comfortable by pulling up a seat. No. He walked up and leaned against the wall on the other side of the bed. Arlen didn’t seem the least bit interested in me or the conversation. He only occasionally looked up to meet my eyes. It’s the only way I knew he was listening.
“Well, um, you kind of blew up. Sort of. I guess I’m just not explaining it very well, but you fell and then there was a huge explosion of magic from you and you vaporized every Bacalou in the building.” Rhys was rubbing the back of his neck. I had noticed that he did that when he was worried.
“All of them? Then what? Where’s Brad? We still have to find Angie.” I was worried that he had gotten away. The memory of his hands groping at me made me shudder.
“You passed out. I thought you were dead. There was blood everywhere...” Rhys trailed off, sounding a bit choked up.
“How long was I out?” It was daylight again. We couldn’t have missed our opportunity.
“Only about twelve hours. It took a few for the salve to kick in. The tonic took effect pretty quickly, but your magic hasn’t kicked in and helped the process along,” Rhys said, giving Arlen a worried sidelong glance.
“Do you know why? I mean, it should’ve right? If it’s not, then there’s something wrong. Am I right?” I was scared of what would happen if my magic was gone.
“Well, you’re not wrong, although we don’t really know what’s going on. Based on what we saw last night, we know that nobody has ever used so much power all at once before. We just don’t know what that might mean.” Wonder tinged the worry in Rhys’s voice.
“Don’t worry, Brad’s been…” Arlen paused for dramatic effect. “Taken care of.” His face lit up like a kid’s on Christmas morning. Whatever he’d done to Brad must have been gruesome.
“Is he…?” I didn’t have to finish the sentence. They both knew exactly what I was asking.
Rhys nodded. It felt like the thirty-pound weight that had been dragging me down was lifted from my shoulders. I could feel the tip of his knife as he had dragged it down my body. No. I wasn’t sorry he was dead. However, his death presented me with different problems all their own.
“He might’ve been our only chance at finding out where they’ve taken Angie! And now we’ll never know! They’ll kill her before we can find her.”
Hysteria was seeping into my blood. My hands started to shake and I wanted nothing more than to break down, but I couldn’t conjure a single tear despite wanting to sob for my best friend. My breathing was quickly becoming shallow pants and my throat wanted to close with the sticky moisture that came with intense emotions. I had let her down. I had let everyon
e down.
“I don’t know about your white knight over here, but this isn’t my first rodeo dealing with some whack job hard ass. I’ve lived a very long life and in that time I’ve come to understand the art of extracting information from more or less unwilling participants.” Arlen had an air of indifference about him while he examined his blade. This man had enough arrogance and cockiness for ten, but I wasn’t necessarily sure that he was wrong. I knew he was dangerous. He set me on edge by just being around him, but I didn’t really know him. I had seen him fight with skill and precision. He had a certain promise of lethality about him and a darkness that didn’t seem to be quenched.
“So, you tortured him, is what you’re saying?” I wished that he would just speak plainly, but I didn’t think that he really knew how. A man with as many years under his belt as he claimed, would likely be fairly set in his ways.
My body was beginning to itch for movement. I scooted to the edge of the bed and gingerly tested out my footing on the floor before taking a chance and putting all of my weight on my poor battered limbs. I wasn’t ashamed of my nakedness. I had never seen the hype about it, but I blushed slightly at being in such a state of undress in front of Arlen. Rhys was glaring like he might gouge the Fae’s eyes out with a spoon. Rhys didn’t say anything to Arlen, however he quickly handed me one of his oversized shirts to cover up with. I slipped it on, grimacing at the straining motion. My back had pulled taught, stretching out the scabbed over lashes. They weren’t excruciating like they had been when they’d been fresh, yet they stung enough to let me know that they were there. I hobbled over to the full length mirror in the corner of the room and turned, pulling up the shirt, to get a clear peek at what was left of my back. What I was expecting and what I actually saw were two very different things indeed. I knew a lot of damage had been done the night before, however none of it was apparent that morning. Four gashes ran from the right shoulder blade down to the left kidney. The top most two were now just thickly ridged pink scars. The lower two were still scabbed over and hot with inflammation. The amount of healing that had taken place already was shocking to say the least. It was one thing to be told something like this would happen but another entirely to see it firsthand. Those lacerations would’ve been cut nearly to bone and the bruising was likely some internal bleeding that was patching itself up. Amazing really.