“The police saw him,” I said out loud, returning to the present. “There was no way it could be covered up. I should have at least been questioned.”
“You don't need to worry about that anymore,” Alaric assured.
I curled my legs up underneath me and huddled in on myself. “What really happened?” I asked in a strained voice. “Why did Ray die? I've been over that memory so many times. He hadn't lost enough blood. He was conscious and cursing at me as I tried to stop the blood flow.”
“It is your gift, Madeline,” Alaric said softly.
I shook my head over and over again. “I don't understand.”
Alaric stayed kneeling in front of me, but put his hands on my knees in a comforting gesture. “You have the power to release the lives of those who are suffering.”
“I don't believe you,” I said petulantly, though part of me did.
I'd stayed up far too many nights wondering what had happened with Ray and Matthew to not have considered that there was something different about me.
Alaric sighed. “You'll see in time.”
“And what do you have to do with any of this?” I asked suddenly. “I still don't understand why I'm here.”
“You'll understand soon enough,” he explained seriously. “I promise I'll do all that I can to help.”
I laughed but it turned into more of a hiccup because of my tears. “You know, I preferred you when you were flirtatious,” I said, suddenly embarrassed by my breakdown.
He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “As my lady commands.”
I smiled, then quickly wiped it away. A girl shouldn't smile at her kidnapper, even when he was trying to cheer her up.
“I'm tired,” I said again.
He nodded. “I wouldn't go wandering,” he advised. “Many things less pleasant than my sister wander these halls.”
With that ominous advice ringing in the air, he stood and left the room, shutting the door gently behind him. I leaned down and took off the high-heeled boots. Apparently I'd just been dressed up to meet with Estus. He was their leader, in some way, so I supposed he merited proper attire.
I paced around the room, feeling sick and dizzy, and none too happy to be left with only the form-fitting dress to wear. There were a few dressers in the room that matched the bed, and as a last ditch effort I started going through them. Many of the drawers were empty, but eventually I came to two drawers filled with clothes. I found some silky red pajama pants with a matching shirt, but passed them over. I didn't actually want to go to sleep. I couldn't go to sleep. I had to find a way out.
I searched through the clothes a little bit more and came out with a pair of black jeans and an indigo blue tee shirt. The jeans fit me like a glove. My imprisonment had obviously been well-planned. Gre-at.
I dressed quickly, nervous that someone would come calling while I was naked. I felt slightly better in normal clothing, more like myself. There was even a pair of black running shoes underneath the dresser. It was as if they actually wanted me to run. I was happy to oblige.
When I could find nothing else of use in the room, I sat on the bed to wait. Hopefully everyone would go to sleep and I could search for an exit unhindered. I wasn't sure how anyone could even tell that it was night-time without windows, but I felt tired enough for it to be night. That meant that it had already been a full day since I'd been taken.
I tried to just wait on the bed, but I was too nervous to sit still. Instead, I began examining the room, even though there wasn't much to it. Wood had been added to the fire before I was re-delivered to the space. The flames crackled happily as they gave off their warmth, contrasting drastically with my mood.
I stood by the fire for a while, because it beat sitting on the bed. Eventually I went through the dressers again, even though I knew I'd find the same things, and looked underneath the bed as well. There was nothing under the bed, not even dust bunnies.
Finally I'd had enough, and went for the door. I reached for the knob and hesitated, then placed my ear against the door to listen. I couldn't hear anything on the other side, but the wood of the door was so thick that it didn't mean much. I took a deep breath and grabbed the knob, opening the door before I could think better of it. I let out my breath when it was revealed that no one was waiting on the other side.
With a steadying hand against the wall, I tip-toed out into the hallway, almost wishing I would have gone with bare feet rather than running shoes. I crept down the hall, cringing at the little tip-taps of my steps on the stone.
The lighting in the halls was more dim that it had been earlier, but still enough to see by, luckily. Not sure where to go, I finally decided to go back down the hallway where I'd had my encounter with James. I did not want another meeting with him, but it seemed the most likely place for an exit. From what I'd seen of the opposite direction, the other halls led deeper into the compound.
I looked over my shoulder every few seconds, wanting to run, but afraid of the noise my feet would make. I was mid-step when I heard a low-throated growl that raised the hairs on my arms. I turned around in what felt like slow motion to see a dog the size of a grizzly bear creeping up behind me. It must have come out of one of the rooms, else I would have noticed it approaching.
I stood perfectly still as the beast took a slow step toward me, scraping its long nails across the floor as it moved. Upon closer observation, maybe it wasn't a dog. It had a face similar to that of a rottweiler, but with an elongated snout. Something about its stance was wrong as well. I took a slow step back as I realized that its neck was far too long, and what I could see of its tail was too thick. It had the body of a bear, the head of a dog, and the neck and stance of a giant lizard. Dark brown fur flowed over its face and body, blending the aspects of the different animals seamlessly.
The thing cocked back its head and sniffed the air, then let out another low growl. It shifted from foot to foot, as if preparing to pounce. Knowing that I would have no chance if it jumped on me, I turned and ran.
I was no longer concerned about my footfalls as I rounded a corner in the hallway, my heart thudding in my chest. I grabbed the knob of the first door that I saw, praying to whatever I should be praying to that it wasn't locked.
The door came open and I practically fell inside. I felt the air shift behind me as the creature went barreling by. I slammed the door shut and slid the deadbolt into place, not waiting to see if the creature came back. I was suddenly very glad that all of the doors in the place seemed to be made of heavy, sturdy wood, though it was a little strange to have a deadbolt on an interior door.
I turned to look at the room I was now trapped in as I tried to regain my breath. The room was made of stone, of course, but something dark stained the walls and floor. I couldn't tell what the substance was, as the room barely had enough light to see by, but I could tell it had been a thin liquid, spattering the walls lightly, then pooling in large puddles on the floor.
I walked toward the nearest wall and touched the stains, smoothing my fingertips across the stone. My fingers came away with something thick and sticky. Older, dry stains were spread underneath the more recent ones, flowing in patterns like water. I stepped away from the wall, rubbing my fingers on my jeans as I went. When no noises sounded on the other side of the door, my breathing began to slow. The creature wasn’t trying to come in after me.
My sneakered feet stuck to the floor as I explored the dimly-lit room a little further. Large cages with thick steel bars came into view as I approached the far wall. The refuse inside of the cages hinted to the fact that they had once been occupied, but they were all empty now. I wondered if the cages were for other beasts like the one I'd seen. The room stank of rot and a strange burnt smell.
A scratching at the door caught my attention. My heart leapt into my throat at the thought that the creature had realized where I was, but then I noticed that the scratching was coming from somewhere beside the door, not outside of it.
I crept toward the sound, barely able
to hear the scratching over the thudding of my heart. There was something small moving around where the floor met the wall, but there wasn't enough light to quite make out what it was.
I crouched down and reached out a hand to try and coax the thing into the dim light. It worked. Too fast to follow, the thing lunged for me. It was only the size of a very large rat, but it flew into me with such force that it knocked me to the ground.
The moist stickiness of the floor seeped into my clothing as I frantically tried to grab at the thing that was scratching its way up my torso. I wrapped my hands around it, but the creature was wet and slippery. It slipped right through my fingers and went for my throat, wrapping tightly around my neck to cut off my air supply.
My breath wheezed in and out shallowly as I pried at the thing's fingers. Fingers? It felt like a hand around my throat. Flashes of fear and rage pulsed in my mind, just like the other emotions I could sense from people. I saw blurry scenes that I knew had nothing to do with my own memories, they were somehow coming from the creature. The scenes faded as my vision began to go black from lack of oxygen, then I felt a small rush of energy and the thing suddenly went limp. I threw it off me and pushed myself backwards across the floor.
My vision came back in stages as I caught my breath. I could see the dark shape of the thing a few feet away, but it didn't move. I got to my feet and ran forward as quickly as I could manage in my panicked state, then stomped the creature with my heel as soon as I reached it. I jumped on it until I heard bones crunch, then finally leaned down to examine it again. It was a hand.
The hand was now bruised and misshapen from my stomping, but that wasn't the worst of its injuries. Right above the wrist bone, the hand had been severed from its owner. Bone gleamed in the dim light as blood continued to gush forth. There shouldn't have been that much blood in just a hand, but the thing was covered in it. That was why it had been so difficult to keep a hold of.
Yet, none of those things had been what killed it. I had killed it, just like I did Matthew. I knew it with a sickening surety. I had felt the same rush of energy when Matthew died.
I pushed myself away from the hand, just before I lost what little dinner I'd eaten. My vomit and tears fell to commingle with the substance on the floor that I now realized was blood. The whole room was covered in congealed blood.
I quickly got to my feet and tried to wipe my hands off on my jeans, but the blood was too sticky and I couldn't get it all off. I stumbled back toward the door, ready to take my chances with the creature in the hall if it meant I could just get out of that room. How had the hand even moved to begin with?
I glanced back at the hand in question, half-expecting it to have disappeared, but it was still just lying there. My own hands were shaking so badly that it took me several tries to undo the lock. When I finally managed to open the door, I had to jump back because someone was in the doorway. I ended up slipping and falling hard on my tail-bone.
Alaric's hair fell forward over his shoulders as he looked down at me. “I thought you might try to run again. I figured I'd make sure you didn't get eaten.”
“Great job,” I replied shakily.
He crouched down and picked me up effortlessly into the cradle of his arms. He stood and carried me out of the room of horrors without a word, and I let him.
“You need another bath,” he commented once we were walking down the hall.
“W-what was that room?” I stammered as I wrapped my arms around his neck to feel more secure. “There was a hand.”
He chuckled. “Sometimes parts get left behind. They can be a little cross about what happened to their bodies.”
I almost thought that I was going to vomit again, but I managed to hold it in. “And what happened to their bodies?” I asked weakly.
“Did Estus tell you why you were brought back to us?” he asked rather than answering my question.
“He said you needed a new executioner,” I answered breathlessly, as if it were a normal thing to say.
Alaric stopped to hoist me up and get a more firm grip around me. “You just met the hand of our last executioner.”
“You killed him!” I exclaimed, trying to wriggle out of his grip.
“Not me personally,” he replied holding on and not letting me drop. “Though I would have. He was a traitor.”
The struggling was getting me nowhere, so I stopped. “What did he do?”
Alaric looked down at me with a cold expression. “He was a traitor, and we cannot afford traitors in times like these.”
“Times like these?” I prompted.
“My dear executioner,” he replied. “We are at war.”
My next question froze on my tongue as I considered the complexities of what he was saying. Who would want to go to war with people that dismembered their victims, and let enormous, furry lizard beasts run loose in their halls? More Vaettir? Were there other places like the one we were in, with more crazy freaks populating them? I began to feel dizzy again.
Alaric let me down to my feet as we walked into the bathroom. He gave me a scrutinizing look. “I assume you can get back to your room from here?”
I looked at him as he prepared to leave me while visions of lizard dogs and bloody hands danced in my head. “Please stay,” I said before I could think it through.
He looked surprised, then smiled. “You mean, stay?” he drew out the word as if it meant more than just staying.
My eyes widened. “Oh no,” I corrected. “It's just. What if there are more body parts wandering around?”
“You handled that hand all on your own-” he began.
“Please,” I interrupted.
He shrugged and entered the bathroom fully so he could shut the door behind us, then went to sit on the closed toilet seat.
“You have blood on your clothes,” I observed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable as I stayed standing by the closed door.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “You have much more on yours.”
I looked down. He was right. The sticky, congealed blood had soaked into the back of my jeans, and there were smears of it all over my shirt.
“Close your eyes please,” I said, more than ready to get out of the soiled clothing.
“And what if I said no?” he asked with his eyes still wide open.
“Then I would take my chances with the severed body parts,” I answered bluntly.
He laughed at me, but still obeyed and closed his eyes. I peeled the soiled clothing off and hopped quickly into the tub. Instead of just filling it right away, I ran the water and splashed off any of the blood that was on my skin so I wouldn't have to soak in it. The pinkish water running toward the drain would have almost been pretty if I didn't know that it was from a man who had been brutally murdered. When I was clean enough, I plugged the drain to trap the hot water.
“Can I open them yet?” Alaric asked in a tone that implied that I was being very silly.
“Yes,” I answered. “But keep your gaze forward please.” If modesty was silly, then baby, call me the queen of slap-stick.
“You know it would be much more efficient if I could just hop in there with you,” he joked. “At this rate I'll never get to bed.”
“I'll be out soon enough,” I grumbled.
The water had filled enough for me to start scrubbing myself with the vanilla soap. As I washed, I found I still had a few little patches of crusty dried blood on my skin, and a decent amount in my hair. I scootched forward enough to lean back and dunk my hair into the water. When I came back up, the water was pink. I quickly turned off the faucet and unplugged the drain.
“I was only kidding,” he said.
“I need to refill the water,” I explained, turning to look at him. “Hey, avert your eyes!”
He looked away with a laugh. “Why do you need to refill the water?” he asked, obviously trying to distract me.
“There was blood in it,” I answered.
He laughed again. “It will be interesting to see how you adapt a
mong the Vaettir.”
“Why?” I asked. “Do you enjoy bathing in the blood of thine enemies?”
“Something like that,” he answered soberly.
“You can't keep me here forever,” I added.
He turned to look at me, but he seemed so serious that I just hunched down to cover my breasts rather than telling him to look away.
“It would have happened again,” he said cryptically. “The taking of life is your gift.”
“The taking of life is not a gift,” I snapped, once again thinking of Matthew.
“Not always,” he replied, finally averting his eyes. “Nor is it always a curse.”
I plugged the drain and renewed the water flow, then slipped down into the tub, fully prepared to sulk. It would have happened again, he'd said. I couldn't bear what had happened with Matthew happening with someone else. Of course, as far as I could tell, these people wanted me to use my gift, which I was definitely not okay with. I washed my hair and scrubbed my skin nearly raw in silence.
“You have lovely skin,” he commented, pulling me out of my thoughts. “You should probably try not to scrub it all off.”
“Stop looking!” I exclaimed as I huddled up to cover myself again.
“I can't protect you from severed hands if I can't see you,” he argued with laughter in his voice.
I smiled in spite of myself. He was being a lech, but he was also trying to cheer me up again. I had to appreciate the latter, at least a little.
“If you died,” I began, then cringed when I realized how inappropriate the statement sounded.
Alaric turned wide eyes to me, though he was smiling. “Do you have plans that I'm not aware of?”
I glared and removed one of my hands from my chest to gesture for him to look away. “If you died,” I began again, “would you reanimate just like that hand?”
Alaric kept his eyes firmly forward, for once. “As would you.”
I gasped. I hadn't thought about that. I believed that Alaric would reanimate. I could no longer argue with all of the evidence laid before me, especially when one of the pieces of evidence had just tried to kill me. Yes, I believed that Alaric, and the others weren't exactly human, but me? I still couldn't wrap my mind around it.
Bitter Ashes (Bitter Ashes Book 1) Page 4