by W. J. May
Gasping for air, and unsure if my neck could handle another round of crush-testing, I clawed at my shirt trying to stretch the collar in an attempt to open my throat.
He dumped his large frame onto the other side of the couch, and banged his feet on the coffee table. He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Don’t screw this up. I might be the only one able to save you.”
Horse shit. Blackmailing and kidnapping did not represent protection. He was using me. He wanted me dead. I refused to acknowledge him.
“Your friends are toast. I can’t do anything for their kind. And you,” he said, shaking his head, “deserve what’s coming because you chose to associate with them.”
Hands clenched, I stiffened and my eyebrows crushed together as I stared Damon down. His hair clung to his head, plastering itself to the sweat on the forehead of his contorted face. I’d never really hated anyone, but at this very moment, I hated Damon. I hated his Alpha leader, and the twelve Grollics outside the cabin. All of them, they didn’t deserve to live.
I wished I had the Grollic book here. If Damon was telling the truth and if I was right about the book belonging to Bentos, everything would be seen in a different light.
I straightened and gasped: the book had been written to stop the Grollics, not understand them.
Glancing up, I turned to Damon. His head had fallen back, eyes closed and his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Only a brainless Grollic like Damon could fall asleep at a time like this. Maybe there’s a weapon hidden somewhere in the cabin. Quiet and with as least movement as possible, I slid from where I sat and snuck toward the hall.
A howl broke through the quiet night air. Damon jumped instantly alert. I moved to the couch in an attempt to drop into it and make myself disappear. The hair on the back of my neck prickled against my sweatshirt.
Damon walked to the front door and stuck his head out. Could he hear as well in human-form as when he’s a Grollic?
Nothing. Only silence.
Then a short howl, further away, echoed in the night. Damon shut the door. He stretched and walked back over to the chair I’d previously occupied. “Nobody’s coming to save you tonight. Your friends are searching the other side of town. They’re not even close to the lake.” He closed his eyes.
“You think I’m going to let you sleep?” It irritated me to think he’d just sleep. I’d probably be dead tomorrow and he had no issues of guilt or second thoughts. Had he killed before? “I have questions I deserve answers to.”
He didn’t bother to open his eyes, not even a tiny slit. “No.”
“You’re an ass. This is going to come back on you one day.”
Damon heaved a huge sigh and sat up, rubbing his face. Without a word, he went into the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards. Glasses clinked and then the tap water began running. He came back and handed me the glass. Before sitting back down, he set two white tablets on the coffee table. “Aspirin. Take them or I will. You’re giving me a headache.” He glared at me while I held the glass. His eyes turned dark when I refused to move. “At least drink the water, you’re voice sounds like shit.”
“That’s ‘cause you’ve been strangling me. I –”
“Drink it. Or I’ll force it down your throat.”
Not liking the amber color in his eyes, I brought the glass to my lips and swallowed down the lukewarm water. It tasted slightly metallic, coppery. I drank half, frowned and set the glass on the table, licking the roof of my mouth. “I’m not taking your little pills. Bull-crap they are aspirin.”
Dick-head smirked and interlaced his fingers on his chest. “Fine. Now you’ll sleep.”
“No, I won’t. I’m not…” I paused, wondering why my arms and head seemed suddenly heavy. Even my eyelids felt like they weighed fifty pounds each. Too late, I realized he’d used the aspirin as a ploy and drugged the water knowing I wouldn’t take the pills. My upper body fell against the cushions behind me. Just before my head followed, and my mind sank into oblivion I mumbled, “You bas’sard.”
A sharp pain along the side of my neck made me grimace behind closed eyes. I tried rolling my neck to stretch out the stiff muscle. When I inhaled a whiff of musty wet hair instead of the flowery scent of the pool house, I jerked and nearly fell off the couch.
I rubbed my neck where it had kinked. The groaned at the pain caused from the bruises that now probably covered my throat. Damon lay sprawled on the floor between the coach and the window. Idiot’s comatose and snoring. He’d shoved the coffee table against the wall while I’d been out. The room misted with morning light.
Whatever Damon had snuck into the water had made me dead to the world, but didn’t leave me feeling groggy. Either that or the thought of my eminent death cleared any residual effects away. I quietly stood and tentatively stepped over him to look out the window. It’d snowed more during the night.
Just as I lifted up my right leg to the other side of him, Damon grabbed my left ankle and sent me flying forwards. I turned, only to end up falling on my back and knocking the wind out of me. Damon pushed my feet, sending me sprawling across the wooden floor until the wall stopped my momentum. My head slammed against the wall and an instant headache spread. I was too stunned to move.
He crouched in an attack position, squatting on the balls of his feet. The noise that came out of his throat reminded me of the growl he had let out yesterday before turning into a Grollic. I stayed glued to the wall, terrified, but unable to look away.
The room became dead quiet, except for his mucus breathing. Still crouched, he shuddered and flexed his arms close against his body. “What the –?” His gaze narrowed in on me. He leapt to where I lay and with both hands, squeezed my shoulders painfully tight. He lifted me so his head and mine were level.
I tried to focus, his eyes swimming in circles from my head-butt with the wall.
“What the hell did you do?” he screamed and shook me.
Terrified, I tried to clear my thoughts and concentrate.
Obviously not fast enough from him, he held me by one arm and he slapped my face hard. “I’ll ask you once more. This time, answer me or I break your arm.”
I swallowed back the blood in my mouth oozing from my split lip. The side of my face burned and I ran my tongue over the swelling already forming on my lower lip. I blinked and tried to focus, scared he’d hit me again if I didn’t answer fast enough. “I-I d-didn’t do a-anything. I ha-haven’t touched you.”
“Lying spawn of Bentos! Whatever you did, FIX IT RIGHT NOW!!!” His face contorted as his lips curled over his teeth and his eyes shot daggers at me. The white and his pupils didn’t change color. No burnt yellow, only bloodshot red.
“I don’t know what you're talking about!” He’d bloomin’ drugged me, not the other way around. Wait a minute. The rye.
“Bitch! I can’t shift! Take back whatever you said and fix this.” He grabbed my wrist and turned it painfully in the wrong direction. “I’ll break every bone in your body until you do!”
Despite the situation, I croaked out a laugh. “It’s not some voodoo curse, idiot. I didn’t say something, and then add a no-take-backs.”
Damon dropped his hold on me, and as I fell, he punched me in the gut. It stopped all laughter as I rolled on the floor and tried to catch my breath and stop the pain.
“The next contact will be my foot in your face!” The malice in his voice made me believe him. “What did you do?”
“I… Y-Yesterday, I… It was the …” I struggled to find my breath. Stomach muscles PLEASE relax. I beg you so I can inhale the oxygen I need. I tried again, “Yesterday I made a drink to help me relax. You… You drank it.”
“So what?” He brought his leg back.
“It was whiskey, you know… rye.” I had no idea if he knew what that meant.
“You FED me RYE?” The spit from his shouting landed on my face.
I gagged. “You took my glass. You drank it.” I rubbed the wet off my face terrified he’d ask m
e how I knew about rye.
“I’m going to kill you. Slow and painfully and before you die, I’m going show Michael. Watch the light die in his eyes when he sees you, and then kill him in front of you.” He grabbed fistfuls of his hair. “I’m a Grollic who’ll never shift again. That’s more lethal than killing me!” He raised his leg again, ready to swing.
I scooted back against the wall, my hands up in defence. “I read… heard…” I couldn’t make a lie up fast enough, “On the internet... that rye might possibly prevent a Grollic from changing. It’s not forever. Just till the alcohol’s out of your system. I had no idea it would work, and I never meant for you to drink it!” I tried to play the scared human victim. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know this would happen.”
He paused, setting his foot back on the floor. “It’s not permanent?”
“Not that I know.” How long did I have?
A long, horrible scream, followed by a short bark erupted from outside. My gaze shifted towards the windows, but I couldn’t see anything from where I sat.
“Get your boots on.” He grinned wickedly. “My Alpha approaches. It’s time to go.”
When I didn’t move, he grabbed a handful of my sweater and tossed me onto the couch like a sack of potatoes. My heart thundered against my rib cage, or maybe it was my insides shaking that echoed against the beats. I slowly laced up my boots. With a sense of sadness I realized I could do nothing to stop the critical events about to maybe change, but more likely destroy my life.
Chapter 24
Damon had to physically pull me outside the door of the cabin. I no longer had the brain power to tell my body to put one foot in front of the other to walk. Cold air hit my face. It helped wake me a bit, however, I’d become numb inside. I could understand how a prisoner on death row felt on his last walk to the chamber. I shook my head to try to physically clear the fog out of my brain. I needed to focus and try to come up with something, anything. I had to fight.
Michael. His name made tears spring instantly to my eyes. I barely got to say good-bye to him yesterday. He had no idea how much I loved him or what he had done to bring color back into my life. I had spent the past eighteen years in shades of grey and black.
I had to wipe my tears with my shoulder when Damon grabbed my wrists and tied them together in front of me, with a rope trailing from them. I looked up confused. “Why? You never bothered binding me in the cabin?”
“I'm not having one of my so-called brothers claim my prize.” He started walking through the trees, giving the leash I was now tied to a hard tug now and again. Like a slave to his master.
Tears continued to course down my face, as I trailed behind him. I couldn’t stop Damon or figure out a way to live. Crying just helped feed the hopelessness.
I cried for everything I was going to miss out on with Michael. There was so much I wanted to know about him I would never get to learn. I would never get to share my life or experience anything with him. I should have told him how it felt to be with him. How we could talk, not just speak to each other. We connected as if we belonged together, like the Siorghra’s eternal love.
Damon yanked the rope, forcing me to keep up. I stumbled, almost falling, when a new wave of sadness hit me. Grace. I bit into my lip to try and stop the tears, which didn’t help because it broke open the cut Damon had given me earlier. I spat the iron taste out, the color bright crimson in the snow.
“Rouge!” Damon slapped my face hard enough to spin me around. I would have fallen if he hadn’t tugged the rope which forced me to stay upright. Pain shot from my nose and up into my eyes. More blood dripped, this time from my nose. I tentatively touched it with my bound hands, scared it might be broken. Thank goodness it wasn’t.
“Either start walking or I'll break your legs and actually have a reason to drag you.” Damon’s eyes darkened to a murky brown color.
I straightened, realizing the alcohol might be wearing off and he could change into a Grollic if he wanted to. I grew cold with fear and began to shake. Somehow, deep inside, I wasn’t prepared for him to shift, like an inner sense wanted me to wait for the right moment. Whatever that means… maybe after I die.
I carefully nodded. “Sorry. I'll walk now.” I knew enough from past life experiences that simple apologies and weak commitment might be adequate to avoid more violence. Pretending to feel bad and submit probably saved my legs from being broken. He turned and started walking again. I made sure to concentrate on following him.
As we walked through the almost knee-high snow, I tried to wipe my nose with the shoulder part of my sweater. The drops of fallen blood in the snow looked crimson compared to the brilliant white. My lip seemed to have stopped bleeding, and the blood from my nose slowed its rapid flow as well. I couldn’t pinch it with my hands tied, so I tried pinching it with the inside of my elbow.
The sky was still a dull grey color, but in a few lighter shades. An eerie quiet filled the leaf-less forest. I could hear the odd twig break to the left or right of us every once in a while, but saw no one. When a loud crack echoed to my left, a huge, ugly grey Grollic appeared. Its hideousness made me shutter. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of another to my right. They were probably flanked all around us to prevent Michael or anyone else from trying to rescue me.
We continued to hike around the lake but stayed inside the forest line. I wondered if walking by the frozen lake would leave the Grollics vulnerable to Michael’s family. A strange thought crossed my mind. Is there something about water Grollics don’t like?
Damon stopped when a very low and long howl erupted ahead of us – like a trumpet sounding. Damon pressed one knee to the ground, his head bowed and then stood. “My Alpha’s approaching in Grollic-form.” He shook himself and straightened his crumpled clothes. “If you care to live with hope of saving yourself or the Knightlys, don’t you dare look him in the eyes. He’ll kill you without a moment’s hesitation.” He leaned forward and freed my wrists from the tied rope digging into them.
More Grollics ret out the same howl as the first. We stood by a large tree. I leaned back against it for support, too tired to care if Damon bitched. Suddenly he dropped to one knee again and this time he didn’t get up, or look up. My heart rate quickened as anxiety flowed through my veins. Searching every direction, I tried to spot what might be coming. The air grew heavy, like just before a thunderstorm. My breath caught in my throat from movement in the snow straight ahead.
At first I could barely make anything out, but as the trees became thicker the white fur became prominent against the bark. Moving at a speed which seemed impossible for any man or animal, the silhouette matched Damon’s when he’d shifted.
Running towards us strode a terrifying, yet awesome creature. He was bigger than Damon, actually he made Damon look like a runt. The snow didn’t shine nearly as much as the beast’s coat and his eyes were a ruby red color. About twenty feet from us he slowed and rose to his hind legs… then walked like a normal human being, but still a Grollic. The beast had to be seven or eight feet tall. I jumped when he let out a guttural bark and stopped inches from Damon.
Damon rose slowly and leaned away from me. The Alpha ignored him and walked straight to me. His eyes narrowed and focused in on me. I tried to avoid meeting his gaze, as Damon had instructed, but I couldn’t. The Grollic cocked his head to one side and stood inches away. He stared down, his hot, putrid breath slapping my face.
He had to weigh three hundred pounds, maybe more. He was massive, with not a speck of dirt on his white fur.
Craning my neck, I couldn’t turn away even if I tried. The bright red of his eyes reminded me of blood, and I saw my reflection in them.
The beast made a noisy, wet sound as he inhaled. I cringed when his cold nose pressed against my neck and paused to smell the blood on my coat. I pressed myself closer into the tree trunk without even realizing until the rough bark scraped my cheek.
The Grollic stepped back and moved around the ancient tree. A second later he
appeared on the other side in human form, completely naked. He must’ve been about fifty, extremely fit, white hair and the same birthmark as Damon just below his clavicle on the left side. His mark appeared darker and raised, almost as if burned onto his skin.
“This the one?” He looked at Damon.
I now had no problem avoiding my gaze. He’s apparently oblivious to the cold and snow.
“Yes.” Damon’s head bobbed up and down.
“All this trouble for her?” He snorted and threw his hands up in the air. “It's weak and female! You’re positive she’s the seventh?”
“Seventh generation. Seventh descendent. Seventh of Bentos.” Damon bounced up and down with each syllable. I wished I could wipe the grin off his face.
“Does the demon’s offspring know?”
No, they’ve got no clue.
Damon scratched his birthmark. “She had no clue. If they know, they kept it from her.”
They don’t. Michael would’ve told me. Then why was I wondering if it might be true?
“Scoundrel,” he scoffed. “Will they fight for her?”
“The twins will without a doubt. We're not so positive about Caleb. He’s not too keen on the girl.”
The Alpha leaned forward and slapped Damon across the face. Hard. Really hard. Howls erupted and glancing around, I nearly jumped up the tree to climb it. My heart exploded into rapid beating. The other Grollics had formed a semicircle around us. I hadn’t noticed their approach. I’d been too focused on the Alpha. They were not as huge as the Alpha but big like Damon, and all different shades of ugly.
“Insolent!” the Alpha shouted at Damon. “I will not fight unless their Alpha is here! Why send for me if you're not sure?”