That monster, Agorias was just the first. I am going to make them all pay for what they did to you. I promise.
“Gabriella, is that you?” whispered Peter.
I wiped the blood from my beaten face with the back of my hand and then pressed as close to the crack in the wall as the shackles would allow.
“It’s me,” I replied and heard Peter sigh with relief. “Thank you for what you did. If you hadn’t created that distraction…then I don’t know what he would have done to me.”
“You’re welcome. I couldn’t bear the thought of that sick creature hurting the woman my son loves.”
“Then you’ll be glad to know I killed Physicker Agorias.”
“Good. I hope the bastard suffered.”
“I made sure of it.”
There was a pause and then Peter said, “If you managed to kill the Physicker, then you could have tried to escape. You had the lock pick.”
“I’m not leaving this place without you or my teammate Troy. We’re escaping together, it’s as simple as that.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, the emotion evident in his voice. “That you stayed when you could have gone means more to me than you will know. In return all I can promise you is that we will escape tomorrow during the event, or we will die trying. Either way, this will be the last night either of us spends within these walls. Are you ready for that?”
The thought of my life ending in the awful colosseum, away from Alex and my friends made me feel sick to my core, but it was better than having my sprit slowly destroyed through years of systematic torture and mental manipulation. I’d only been in the colosseum a short time, but already the things I had been forced to do had broken me in ways that I would never be able to piece back together. I knew that every time I fell asleep, the faces of the innocents I had been forced to murder would be there, waiting. I can’t bear to stay in this place another minute.
“I’m ready.”
*
Just as I had expected, my tormented dreams forced me to repeat my horrific actions in the arena. Except at the very moment I stabbed the knife down into each of the prisoners, their faces shifted and became Alex’s. A tortured scream ripped from my lungs as my soulmate choked and stared at me with betrayed confusion. Each time I tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t prevent my own hand from sinking the blade deep into their hearts. And each time there was nothing I could do but watch as the person I loved died by my own hand. When the light had gone out of his eyes five times over, the dream shifted and I was back at the beginning, thrusting the blade down all over again. Around me the blurred faces of the spectators laughed and jeered at my misery, and standing in the centre of all the mockery was Lilith.
I woke up screaming, and my screams became sobs as I remembered where I was and what had happened to Grey. Peter couldn’t console me, because he was having nightmares of his very own.
The time before the Spectacle Event passed as a blur. The Pitguards removed me from my cell, but instead of beating me as usual, they treated me with care, walking slowly at my side and ensuring I didn’t fall – which wasn’t an issue as the fever had finally subsided and I was close to getting my full strength back. I couldn’t tell if the guards were being gentle with me due to a newfound respect because of what I’d done to the Physicker, or because they were wary of harming me before the Spectacle Event. Either way I was glad of the respite.
First the Pitguards took me back to Physicker Agorias’ workroom. As soon as I stepped over the threshold, my breath seized in my lungs and I started to sweat with fear. The guards sat me down on the stony operating table, where the evil creature had found great pleasure in taking me apart, piece-by-piece. I half-expected to see his twisted face and hunched body appear at the doorway. But the psychopath was gone, and in his stead I was worked on by a silent Pitguard who cleaned my already-healing wounds, injected me with more boosters and wrapped the worst of Lilith’s sword slices and the Myaline Salt burns with waterproof surgical gauze, whilst the other Pitguards stood at the edges of the room with their rifles trained on me.
Once my wounds were tended to, I was ushered back into the catacombs, moving further away from the exit into the seemingly infinite depths of the Abyss. After what felt like an age we reached a small wooden door set between two cells. One of the Pitguards unlocked it to reveal a tiny stone room containing a single wooden table and chair, and lit by a flaming torch locked behind adamantine bars. Sitting in the middle of the table was a plate filled with different types of meat, and a large jug of water. My mouth started to salivate as soon as I saw them.
“Eat,” a Pitguard said and closed the door.
I ran to the table and grabbed the jug. My instincts took over and I drained half its contents in one go, unable to stop myself as my parched mouth pulled the refreshingly cool water down my throat. I could feel my stomach swell and I retched a few times, as my body struggled to deal with the sudden barrage of water. I let out a gasp as I lowered the jug from my lips, setting it back on the table with a trembling hand. Sinking down onto the chair I picked up the first slab of charred meat, tearing into it with my teeth. It was burned and had no flavouring whatsoever, but to my starved body it was the tastiest thing I had ever eaten. I barely bothered to chew, swallowing mouthfuls at a time, and in less than a minute I had cleared the entire plate. I finished the rest of the water and then placed my head in my hands on the table, closing my eyes and feeling the last bit of missing energy return to me. My Chosen senses kicked into high alert and for the first time since I had arrived at the Abyss, I felt strong and alive again.
They don’t realise it, but they just gave me exactly what I need to help me escape.
Not long afterwards I was collected and taken even further through the catacombs to a large room, split in half by an archway. The section we entered first was covered in grimy grey tiles and had a shower plate the size of a car wheel descending from the flat ceiling. Sitting on a bench at the side of the room was a soft towel and a selection of liquids in glass bottles. As the Pitguards ushered me into the room, I glanced through the archway and saw a wooden chair sitting in front of a mirror, and a withered, naked Succubus waiting with a makeup brush in her hand.
“What is all this?” I asked.
“Quiet, Taken. Just clean yourself up and then go through to the next room,” ordered one of the four Pitguards, moving towards the door we’d entered from. “There is an All Seeing Eye here,” he said, pointing at a winking lens high up in the corner with a nauseating smirk. “We can see everything you do, so don’t try anything, or you won’t make it out alive.”
They walked out and closed the door behind them; a moment later I heard the bolt latch. I stared around, searching for some way they could be tricking me. Finding none, I stripped off the bloodstained, bastardised uniform, covering myself with my arms as I padded over cold tiles to a button on the wall. I hesitated, my fingers poised over it. A part of me wondered if this was the trick. That I would press it and a deadly gas would be released instead of water. I did kill Physicker Agorias.
“Everyone worries about the button,” said the Succubus from the other room. “But I can assure you its safe, dear. They can’t afford to kill anyone, not today. Use some of the fragrances to clean yourself with if you like. They are all quite lovely. ”
“Um, thanks,” I called back.
Here goes, I thought as I pressed the button. True to the Succubus’ word, all that poured onto me was a stream of hot water. I grabbed a random bottle from the bench and then rushed over to the shower and stepped inside. At first I was cautious, knowing that the camera system could see me at my most exposed, but as soon as the hot water touched me, I stopped caring. I raised my head and let the water hit my face, washing away the misery. When most of the blood and grime had been removed from my skin, I opened the bottle – which had a pink liquid inside – and the powerful scent of Quinberry hit my nose. I washed myself with it, feeling the harsh sting as the soapy liquid reacted w
ith my un-gauzed cuts, especially on the Umbra patches that the dead bastard had carved open with his little scalpel.
After a while the water switched off automatically and I was left dripping in the middle of the tiled room. I rushed over to the bench and grabbed the towel, wrapping it tightly around my body. Then I walked to the adjacent section, standing awkwardly underneath the archway. Beyond the mirror and chair, I noticed that the area also had a table full of makeup and jewelry, as well as a long shelf lined with faceless mannequin heads, all wearing different wigs.
The Succubus looked like she had gone months without draining any energy, and it was horrible to see how much she was regressing, her naked body lined with wrinkles and loose skin that hung from her bones like old elastic. She was busy sorting through the makeup. I cleared my throat and she turned, wearing a showbiz smile on her leathery face.
“Don’t be shy my dear, come sit down,” she said.
I walked over to the chair and sat down on it. My cut and bruised reflection stared back at me from the mirror. Whilst I might have felt more like myself, the wounds coupled with my shaved head and hemorrhaged eye, meant I still didn’t look anything like myself. At least…not the self I remember. The Succubus walked behind me and placed her hands on my shoulders, making me flinch.
“It’s okay,” she soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Good,” I replied. “Because if you do, I’ll hurt you a lot more.”
“There’s no need for hostility.” She leaned towards the table and picked up a wooden box of makeup and a brush. “I’m not your enemy,” she whispered before standing back up.
The Succubus ran her leathery fingers over the top of my head, letting her fingers ride along the healing blemishes of Physicker Agorias’ razor. She gave a sigh. “Brutes must always destroy beauty, such is their way.” A small smile appeared on her face, and I saw a glimmer of the former elegance that had once been hers. “Let’s see what we can do to remedy that shall we?”
The Succubus stylist went to work – her wrinkled face close to mine as she deftly applied a base layer of foundation. Afterwards she added concealer, which had the effect of hiding all the cuts and bruises that littered my face. Then she used a tiny amount of blush on my cheeks, followed by mascara and eyeliner.
“Why are they doing all of this to me?” I asked.
The Succubus was finishing off applying a deep red lipstick with her finger. “Our great leader appreciates attractiveness. He would be very unhappy for anyone to look anything other than their best when they are presented to him for battle.” She stepped away and admired her handiwork.
“Magnificent!”
The stylist moved so that I could see. I caught my reflection and drew in a sharp breath. I looked amazing. The Succubus had no doubt made up countless prisoners before a Spectacle Event, and it showed. Not only had she hidden all of the cuts and bruises, but she had also enhanced my facial features and exchanged my stressed pallor for radiance. This is how I looked when Alex and I went to the ball together. Tears started to spill down my cheeks.
“Oh no don’t cry, dear,” the Stylist soothed, grabbing a soft cloth from the table. “You’ll ruin everything I’ve just done.” As she held the cloth to my eyes, she let her other hand linger on my cheek, in an expression of genuine compassion.
“What’s your name?” I asked when I had managed to compose myself.
“Leyala,” she replied.
“That’s a beautiful name,” I said.
The Succubus smiled. “Thank you. What’s your name?”
“Gabriella.”
“That’s a beautiful name too.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Leyala, do you like being here?” I asked as she put the cloth back down and checked over my face.
“Of course I do!” she said with a huge smile. “I love serving the Umbra cause.” I could see in her eyes that she was lying. She let her gaze flick up to another All Seeing Eye I hadn’t noticed in the corner. Then she moved over to the mannequin heads with the speed of the infirm, her back hunched over like a crooked finger. She won’t live much longer if she doesn’t feed.
The Succubus scanned her eyes across the selections and chose one that was almost identical in length and colour to my original hair. “This is perfect,” she said with a smile, carrying the mannequin head over to me. “What do you think?”
“I think it looks great.”
The Succubus smiled and I took her hand, gently pulling her close to me. She was so frail she felt as light as air. “Leyala, how long has it been since you fed?” I whispered.
“Please let me go,” she said, looking up at the All Seeing Eye.
“How long?”
“I don’t know…a long time. I was an Upriser who got caught. They only give us just enough of what we need to survive.”
“Drain a bit of me.”
“No…you’ll need strength for what’s coming.”
“I’m not letting go until you drain a bit of me.”
Leyala glanced up at the lens. “They’ll know. They’ll see it ”
“Just enough that it gives you some energy.”
Leyala looked at me and then nodded. I felt a tingle in my hand as she absorbed some of my energy, and an instant headache spread out across my temples. The Succubus broke the connection and took in a deep breath, as if she had just discovered air for the first time. Her eyes glistened and her back straightened.
“T-thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome. Now keep going before they notice something.”
“Of course.”
Leyala still moved slowly, but I could tell that some of it was now acted. She scooped the wig off the mannequin and set it down on my head. When I looked at my reflection again, I saw me.
“Perfect,” she said. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks to you.”
Leyala gave a wide smile. “I just have to bond the wig to your head now.” She reached over to the table and picked up a bowl of paste, which she layered inside the fleshy part of the wig and then set it down on my head. It was cold and smelled bad. “Don’t move for a moment,” she said. “It’s an unpleasant feeling, but it’ll set quickly.”
I ran my fingers through the hair. “The hair feels very real,” I said.
Leyala glanced at me in the mirror, and I could read the discomfort on her face. “It is real,” she admitted. “They make the wigs with the hair of those who have died in the colosseums.”
Repulsion rolled through me. “I am not wearing a dead persons hair!” I hissed and tried to pull the wig from my head, but it had already set firmly in place.
“Please don’t do that,” pleaded Leyala, glancing nervously up at the All Seeing Eye. “You have to wear it or you’ll get me in trouble.” She placed a hand on my arm and caught my gaze. “Please, Gabriella.”
I could see the desperation and fear in her face and as disgusted as I was at the thought of wearing a wig made from the hair of the dead, I stopped trying to remove it. I made a silent vow to myself that this was the last time I would allow the Umbra do something to degrade me. “This had better come off again,” I said through gritted teeth.
“I promise it will. It needs water to break the bond. If a Taken wins a Spectacle Event, then they get rewarded with several things, including a shower. So if you survive you’ll be able to get it off then. If you don’t survive…” she gave a sad smile, “then it won’t matter anyway.”
I won’t be winning or surviving. I’ll be escaping.
Whilst Leyala was styling the wig, I heard the door crank open and Solomon appeared in the room. The Bloodseeker was carrying a leather garment bag in one hand and a pair of knee-high heeled boots in the other.
“Thank you, Solomon,” said Leyala, taking the items from him.
“Leyala,” he said with a nod. Then he glanced at me, pointing at the garment bag. “Try not to die, Chosen. That is some of my best work.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
The Bloodseeker gave a chuckle, straightened the cravat he was wearing. “We’ll see,” he said and then vanished from the room.
“He used to be so gentle and kind,” Leyala whispered as she placed the boots down on the floor and hung the bag from a hook on the wall. “This place has corrupted him as it does most.” She unzipped the bag and revealed another version of my uniform. The main difference was that the new one looked like it had been tailored from the finest materials. Even the metal embalm of my order had been recreated in perfect detail.
“Come,” said Leyala. “Let’s turn you back into a proud Chosen.”
I stood up, hitching the towel around my body and walked over to the uniform, running a hand against the material. It looked like leather, but felt as soft as silk and as light as gossamer. I shook my head in disbelief.
“Lovely isn’t it?”
“It’s beautiful,” I admitted.
“Solomon is a talented individual.”
I put the clothes on, feeling the soft material slide over my skin. When I was dressed, Leyala took me back to the mirror for a final time. The uniform hugged my figure and enhanced my curves, and coupled with the boots, changed the Alliance’s design from functional to borderline alluring. The thought of being ogled by Hades made me feel sick.
“You look beautiful. Hades will be very impressed when he sees you.”
I stared at my reflection, coiling my hands into fists. Hades is going to wish he never laid eyes on me.
A moment later the door opened and the Pitguards came storming into the room. “Time to go, Taken,” one of them said.
The Veil Page 57