"Never!" she repeated determinedly. "I thought you were... I thought you must be..."
I hugged her tightly. "Alive and well," I whispered in her ear.
"You look okay." Kitty reached for my arms, holding me still as she appraised me. "A few scratches, but they're already healing. Nothing broken. Your hair looks nice. Why does your hair look so nice? My hair never looks that nice after a scrape with evil."
"You two can continue your reunion later," Étoile said, all business now as she separated us, pushing me lightly into a chair. "We'll start soon."
I looked around at the small audience. It never occurred to me my memories would have an audience, and the thought rather jolted me. I didn't know what happened, and I wasn't sure I was ready to share my suppressed memories, even with the people who were closest to me.
Evan caught my eye, and held my gaze. A wave of calm descended over me and I wondered if he sent it, or if it were just his mere presence setting me at ease. With a wrench that only I could feel, I broke his gaze, looking at Kitty, then at Gage. They had all been with me, and we experienced so much together, but the idea of them seeing who knew what, and through my very eyes, was a little overwhelming. Until I knew exactly what happened to me, and had time to process it, I couldn't reveal my memories to them. I glanced up at Étoile, finding her watching me with concern.
"In here," said Seren, coming through the door, a woman entering behind her. "Stella, do you remember Lisette?"
I nodded. My first impressions of Lisette weren’t great. We met during my trial, another one of Georgia's nasty manipulations, and she was the one who extracted my memories of the fateful day when I was forced to kill Eleanor Bartholomew in self defence. She had placed her palms against my head and sent her magic swimming uncomfortably through me as she sought my memories, pulling them out of their dark places and projecting them onto a screen like a movie playing. It wasn't a truly horrible experience, but rather unpleasant and I felt drained afterwards. But vindicated, too. There would be no vindication this time. The black hole where my memory should have been might contain anything.
"Clear the room," instructed Étoile. I heaved a breath of relief at her decision, and pinched my mouth shut.
"I'm not going anywhere," said Evan without moving an inch.
"Nor I," added Gage.
"This isn't a discussion," Étoile shot back.
"We need to know what we're up against," said Evan.
"We need the information first hand," said Gage. "I'm the leader of the werewolf pack and a High Council member. You can't order me around. I'm staying put."
"I'm here for moral support," said Kitty, gently cutting through the brewing storm of opposition.
"You're all guests here," said Étoile, her voice steely calm. "Please don't forget that."
"Oh, we’re guests now?" Gage scoffed. "We're also Stella's friends."
"Your first suggestion was merely information, and provides no support," pointed out Étoile.
"Okay, stop. Just stop!" I stood quickly, the blood rushing to my head. "This is my brain, okay? My memories. I want you all outside. Now!" I don't know why I pointed to the door, since they all knew where outside meant, but I did anyway. I kept my arm raised, willing them not to argue.
"Stella..." Evan said softly.
"Please wait for me outside. Please." I paused, hoping no one would ask me to explain my reticence.
"I'll be right outside," said Kitty, giving me a brief hug before she left the room. "If you need me, holler and I'll be here."
"All of you," I said when neither Evan nor Gage moved.
Silently, Evan rose and walked to the door. A moment later, Gage followed him after throwing a pointed look at Étoile. I hoped the offence I might have caused was minimal.
"Don't worry about him," Étoile said as my lips began to form the word for trouble. "You're the important one in this."
Indecision pricked at me. Maybe I was wrong. "No, the information is important. Gage is right."
"Yes, it is, but it's not everything. Stella, you're important too and no one should have to see your memories without your authorisation. You're not on trial here. You're helping; and you get to choose who sees your memories and who knows the details later."
"What if I don't want anyone to know?" I asked as my indecision gave way to fear.
"I'll extract the details pertaining to our needs in finding The Brotherhood. Everything else is yours to remember, or forget."
"What if my memory doesn't come back even after everything is extracted?"
"We'll worry about that later. You might not want to remember anything."
"What if..." I stumbled, then stopped. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as I asked, "What if something horrific happened to me?"
"We can suppress your memory permanently, if that's what you wish."
I nodded, my eyes still closed. I had to do this; I knew that. I had to know what happened and there was no other way. "I'm ready," I told them, opening my eyes to focus on Étoile. "Let's get it over with."
"I'll wait outside too." Seren stepped backwards.
"No." I held up a hand. "Stay. I might need healing."
Seren glanced at Étoile, and Étoile nodded before turning to her desk. She picked up a small device and pressed a button. "This recording will remain in my custody," she told me, "before I destroy it with your consent."
I nodded my acceptance before glancing at Lisette. "How do you want to start?" I asked her. I fought back a shiver of fear and reminded myself why I was doing this.
"I'll try and make this as easy as possible," she said, pulling up the other chair in front of me. "If it gets too intense, squeeze my hand."
"Won't your palms be on my forehead?"
"Yes, one of them, but this time, your hand will be on top of mine. Here, like this," she said, placing my hand on top of hers before resting her palm against my left temple. "Don't pull at my hand, just squeeze if it gets too much for you, and I'll alter what I'm doing; but I won't stop unless absolutely necessary. Ready?"
I relaxed my mind, while steadying my body. I couldn't answer her question. No one could prepare for this. So, I simply nodded and let her begin. The jolt came quickly and then it was like being sucked under water as my vision disappeared. My body was not my own, my limbs felt heavy, and my mind clouded with thick fog. It seemed like I was swimming against a rising tide, my body barely responsive as a strange magic coursed through the fog, reaching for my hidden memories. My natural urge was to resist Lisette's magic, to slam down my defences and push her out, but instead, I focused on relaxing, allowing her to continue until I became aware of hearing murmurs. She and Étoile were talking to each other, but I couldn't understand what they said.
"I need to go deeper," whispered Lisette against my ear. I gave the lightest squeeze to her hand so she would know I heard her before I readied myself.
The magic surged forwards, stronger than before, leaping across my synapses. I knew the moment she found the black hole where my memories should have been and couldn’t help wincing in pain. The magic drifted around the edges, checking, familiarising itself, I decided, then plunging forwards without warning. A drill inside my head would have been preferable to the pain that ricocheted through me. I tried to steady my hand over Lisette's, struggling to bear the torture, and then it was like the dam burst as relief passed throughout my body. The pain was gone. I could hear voices, several of them now, but still couldn't make out the words. Someone stroked my hair and I didn't know if it were real or remembered as I forced my eyes open.
I was suspended, somewhere inside my body and somewhere outside, floating in a weird half-world. The tension began to dissipate inside my body and I could see my memories flickering on the wall. Auberon and Georgia were at my door, then a sudden blackness, and a fuzzy image of waking up in an unfamiliar room with a locked door and several beds. Chains were bolted to the floor.
My memories sped up. I was being guided through a flame-lit tunne
l, up a flight of stairs, with my arms bound. As if I were actually there, I felt the suffocating sense of my magic being suppressed, but that could have been made worse by Lisette’s control of me. Screaming. Then the images stopped.
Next, I lay on my bed, staring at small strips of light that periodically crossed the ceiling, and concentrating on what I could hear rather than what I felt. I knew I'd already tried to reach the narrow, filthy window, but the cold, thick chain kept rubbing my sore ankle, and wouldn't let me get any closer than a couple of feet away. All I could ascertain was: we might have been held in a basement, which was not completely below ground. There were narrow panes of glass running across the top of the wall, each covered in thick grime. With no way to reach them, and nothing to throw at them, all I could do was watch. From the brief flashes of light, I guessed it was night, and the lights came from headlamps of vehicles that were either pulling in or leaving.
I wasn't alone. There were five more women in the room with me. I watched their faces appear on the screen and felt their despair deep inside me as my memories unlocked. Someone was crying. The picture sped forwards and then stopped, playing again. This time, I heard my voice. "How many of us are down here?" I asked.
"I don't know. I've never been out of this room since I got here."
"Anyone else?" I turned, looking to the other women in the cell.
"I got into the corridor once. I think it was two weeks ago. There's a bunch of doors. I saw some faces. Then..." said the woman closest to me. She had thin, lank hair and watery eyes.
"What happened?"
"I heard them talking about you. Then some big guy punched me and pushed me inside. That's when they started chaining us to the cots."
"A guard?"
"I guess, but he was huge."
"Was he armed? Or magical?"
"I don't think he was magic. I didn't feel that, but..."
The red-headed woman cut in, "We haven't felt any magic down here. It's like we're all blocked."
"Yeah, but I still didn't get that from him. I can innately sense you're all witches, but him...? No. Also, he had some weapons on the wall. Like curved knives," said the first woman.
"Sickles?" I asked.
"Maybe."
"When do they open the door?"
"Lately? Never," said the redhead.
"Never? What about food?"
"It gets pushed through on a tray through a little gap in the door."
"Shhh. Someone's coming."
We quieted, waiting in the stillness. I tried not to look up as a shadow passed across the door. The shadow remained, blocking the light, and I saw the whiteness of eyes. Then the phantom vanished, and the footsteps receded.
"He's gone," said the redhead.
"What about the bathroom?" I asked.
"In the corner, behind that curtain."
"Really?"
"This is not a hotel, Stella. This is hell."
"You mentioned the guards were talking about me?" I asked. "Can you remember what they said?"
"Something about watching over you, making sure you stayed alive."
"That's how we're getting out," I told them. "I think I have a plan and I need your help."
My memories stopped, rushed forwards, stopped, and rushed forwards again. A montage of scant food, quiet talks, interspersed with the screaming of individuals we couldn't see, were interlaced with the sun rising and falling. I couldn't count the days as they passed on the projection screen. The scene stopped again, Lisette apparently finding the memory interesting.
"But you don't know the way out," said the first woman. She looked worse than the last time with hollows now developing under her eyes.
"Who cares? I just need to be unchained and I’ll keep going."
"What about the rest of us?"
"Just try and get away too. We'll split up if necessary. The moment you can get someplace where your magic works, shimmer." That was met with silence. "What?"
"None of us can shimmer," said the redhead. A large bruise covered her left cheek.
"Then run, or cause distractions. Try and free the other prisoners. Just do anything you can."
"Someone's coming."
"Now," I said, throwing myself on the floor, and forcing my body to convulse.
"Help her! Someone help her!" shouted the redhead on cue.
"What's happening?" grunted a man's voice.
"She said she didn't feel well then she just started flailing around," shouted the redhead. "I can't reach her."
I continued to thrash around, gurgling, as someone banged on the door. "What's going on in there?" yelled another male voice, deeper than the first.
"I don't know. One minute she was talking, then she just dropped to the floor and now she won't stop shaking."
"What do you mean?" asked the guard.
"I think she's having a seizure. She was complaining about a headache earlier."
There was shouting in the hallway and running footsteps. Someone yelled "Get back!" before the door was pulled open. It was hard to see what was going on as I concentrated on shaking and convulsing, but hands gripped me under the arms, unceremoniously rolling me over. I made their life hard as their hands wedged under my arms and they began to drag me to the door, my heels scraping against the cold ground. They stopped and the chain at my ankle tugged before I was freed.
The visuals turned fuzzy and I realised we were all watching through my half-lidded eyes as I pretended to be ill. I barely saw the flash as one of the witches launched herself at the nearest guard. They tumbled to the floor, rolling onto the ground. Then I was back in my memory, feeling everything.
I wrenched my arm from the other guard and punched him hard on the jaw. His head jerked back and he stumbled onto the ground, hitting his head. I kicked him in the knee and scrambled to my feet. Looking around in the doorway, I regained my bearings quickly. We were at the end of a long corridor punctuated with doors. Each door seemed to be locked with a heavy bar, and the only set of keys dangled from the belt of the guard, now advancing on the other witches.
"Open the doors," I yelled, slamming my fist into the guard from behind. He twisted, shoving me to the floor with a meaty, mitt-like hand. I jumped up, grabbing the biggest sickle I could find, and swinging around as the red-headed witch screamed in pain. The guard had her by the throat, and her feet dangled a foot above the floor. Without thinking, I swung the sickle at him, letting it sink into his flesh. He screamed and dropped her, his hands reaching for the sickle, screaming again as he tore at his own skin. I grabbed another sickle and slammed it into his shoulder, driving him to his knees. With him shrieking loudly, and the second guard out cold, there was no time to waste. I grabbed another sickle and ran forwards, away from my cellmates before pulling at the doors. All were locked.
I fled, trying not to look at the eyes that followed me from quiet cells. Behind me, someone began to unlock the doors, the hallway filling up with other creatures. Some were witches, some other beings. Some looked like they just arrived; others had the same hollow, desperate looks of those that had been here far too long.
"Which way is out?" I asked, turning to the crowded corridor. "Does anyone know how to get out?"
"That door," said a young werewolf, glancing back toward the commotion behind us. Some of the prisoners had turned on the two guards. "That's where they take me."
"Take you?"
"When they experiment." His voice was flat, emotionless.
"What's up there? Guards? Could you see outside?"
"I know we're near the front of the house. I could see a delivery truck when..."
"When what?"
The werewolf peeled back his lips. "When they pulled my fangs out."
I gaped briefly at the dried blood on his gums and the holes where his fangs once were. "I'm so sorry," I whispered, appalled.
"Don't be. It was them who did it, not you. I know who you are. Let's get out of here. We're going to fight."
"Lead the way."
As soon as we appeared, we were confronted by more guards. Behind them, I saw Auberon, rising from a chair. And right next to him was Georgia.
"We need to get out," I told the werewolf. "Some of us should raise the alarm. We need our people."
"We're outnumbered. They're armed and there's something wrong with us."
"I can't use my magic here," I told him as an older werewolf shot past, barreling into the first guard he approached. I gasped at my weakness, and sudden mortality, as well as my confusion in being deprived of my magic.
"The door." He pointed and we raced toward it, the fight at our backs as the corridor spilled more captives. A pair of massive eight-foot doors, made of plate glass that should have flooded the entryway with light, barred our exit. I grabbed a handle, pulling, but it didn't open.
"It's locked!"
We stepped back. The werewolf looked over the situation. "Hold on," he said, grabbing me.
"What are you doing?"
"Tuck your head into my chest and... sorry!" Before I could ask him what he was sorry about, he grabbed me, swinging me into his arms. I just had enough time to tuck my head into his chest as he ran forwards, launching us at the glass. The force hit me like a car before it started breaking, the glass shards splintering and flying through the air. The wind was knocked out of me as we dropped and rolled onto the ground. We were under a sliver of moon. "Get out of here," he heaved. "I remember when they brought me here that the perimeter fence is just over there. It's not far. Your magic might work over there."
"What about you?"
"I know who you are. You can shimmer. I can't."
"If I can activate my magic, I can shimmer us both."
"Something happened to us all here, they weakened us somehow. I need to help my people. Get out of here and send reinforcements. Please!" He turned, springing spryly back into the warehouse as shots rang out. That didn't stop the supernaturals from engaging. If anything, it seemed to make them more enraged. I watched the fight for a few more brief seconds, feeling I should rush back before realising that I couldn't. He was right. I was the only one who could get away. I had to get away.
Endless Magic (Stella Mayweather Series Book 6) Page 3