by Mary Martel
A dark cave appeared. The cold, icy air that blasted out of the darkness sent an ominous shiver racing down my spine. Death lurked inside this cave, I could sense it. It waited for me to discover it inside its dark depths.
I had a feeling I knew what else waited for me inside, and it wasn't something I could run away from and leave behind. It was the sole reason behind my coming into the woods tonight. The reason why I'd done all the awful things I'd had to do as of late. There was no turning back now.
I held up my hand, flicked my fingers together, and a flame burst to life in the palm of my outstretched hand. The heat of the flame didn't burn me, it only served to light my way.
The vines fell closed behind me with a slight rustle as I stepped into the cave without looking back. The crashing sounds of men coming through the woods faded away to nothing with the closing of the vines behind me. If not for the flame in my hand, I would have been plunged into complete blackness.
My body immediately began to shiver as the cold seeped into my exposed skin. I wrapped the long, heavy robe tightly around myself with my free hand that was not holding the flame out in front of me. The hood covering my head was large enough that only my face was exposed to the bitter cold.
The walls on the cave glistened with the ice covering them. The dirt and pebbles on the ground crunched under my feet with each step I took further into the cave. I cursed the heels I'd been forced to wear, missing my combat boots that laced all the way up to mid calf. I supposed I should have just simply been happy I wasn't wearing flip-flops, I would have lost those suckers on my run through the woods, not to mention my little toes would have probably gotten frostbite in here. The black kitten heels sucked, but at least my toes were covered. Not so much for the tops of my feet. The robe swished when I walked and brushed over the tops of my feet, but no warmth came from it. I wished I could hold my hands up in front of my face and blow my heated breath into my cupped palms, but I would rather freeze to death than be plunged into darkness.
I followed the path that took me deeper into the cave and what felt like further into the ground. I could see my breath in front of my face, and the further along I went, the colder it seemed to get.
I came to a fork in the path. Left or right? Which way to take to get to where I needed to be?
Something in my chest tightened and instinctively I knew to go left.
My footsteps echoed against the walls with each step I took, making me flinch with each and every noise. The urge to look back over my shoulder was strong, but I fought it, too terrified to look back into the dark behind me, and pushed forward.
It felt like I walked for forever, hours and hours on end, before a large, wooden door appeared out of the dark in front of me. I paused, hesitating before reaching out. My palm slid across the smooth wood, sensing something ingrained in the surface. Magic, old, and probably placed there by a witch with a great deal of power. It had faded through time and the death of its creator.
I had no idea how long the Council had been in possession of the motel they were staying in, but I had to assume now after everything I'd learned about them that they had it far longer than Quinton and my coven had known of its existence. Up until now, I'd been unable to figure out why. Feeling the magic left here by someone very powerful a long time ago, I was beginning to understand why the Council would be drawn to this place, especially if there was more than just this down here. Perhaps the Council had been here the whole time and it had been an original member responsible for this. But the question ate at me—why hadn't my coven known anything about it? Quinton’s and Tyson's families had grown up in the area we lived in now, you'd think they would have known if the Council had been their neighbors the whole time. Right?
The door opened with just my touch. I hadn't even had to concentrate on it, it just swung right open. I didn't want to think about that, whether it was a trick or not, but I stepped through anyway.
Moonlight was the first thing I noticed. I blinked several times, trying to allow my eyes to adjust to the difference in the light.
I looked up, seeking out the moon, and my eyes widened at the sight before me. My hand closed around the flame in my palm, dousing the fire. I stepped free of the door and it creaked loudly as it closed behind me. The noise made me flinch, and I frantically looked around to see if there was anyone around to hear it.
As far as I could tell, I was still very much alone. And that worked just fine for me. For now.
I'd walked into some type of old building that had perhaps been a house at one point in time. The ceiling several floors above me was half gone, which was where the moonlight came in from. The floors above had holes all over the place and was mostly missing on the first floor above my head. A set of wooden stairs was directly across the room from me and it actually looked sturdy enough to walk up. Who knew though, I wasn't about to test it at the moment so I could fall through a step.
The walls were brick and covered in years of grime. It looked to be a basement of some kind, with tiny, rectangular windows up high on the walls. The glass had been long since gone from the windows and the floor was covered in dirt and things I didn't want to know about.
The only positives I could see were the light and the fact I no longer felt like I might freeze to death. It was still cold, just not bitter, and it didn't hurt to breathe anymore.
Careful not to step on something and find myself face down in the dirt, I walked around the room.
Underneath the stairs was an open doorway with a set of stairs that went down, down, down into a whole new level of darkness. I felt claustrophobic just looking down there and I hadn't even taken a step down yet.
I felt that tugging again in my chest, coming from my soul, telling me I was headed in the right direction and down, down, down into the blackness I needed to go.
I was starting to think this whole thing just wasn't worth it, but it was far too late to turn back now, and second-guessing myself and doubting really wasn't doing anything good for me.
I held up my hand and flicked my fingers together again, snapping and bringing another flame to life in my palm.
I walked down the stone steps before I could think better of it and turn and run screaming into the night.
My heels clicked against the stone loudly the whole way down. I counted the steps and there were only fifteen of them.
I held my palm up high as I spun around in a circle, searching and scanning the space. The walls down here were brick and surprisingly not covered in dirt and grime like the room I'd just left had been. The walls looked to have been whitewashed recently, they were white and a stark contrast to the darkness down here and the stone floor.
The room was entirely empty and across the space there was another open doorway that led to darkness.
This seemed familiar to me, as if I'd been here before.
He was close, so, so very close, I could sense him.
Just through that doorway.
I hoped he was real, otherwise this all had been for nothing.
My shoes clacked against the stone as I walked briskly across the floor, and without hesitating, through the open doorway.
There he was, but he looked different this time. His body had been beaten and covered in cuts and bruises that hadn't been there in the dream. His face was swollen almost beyond recognition.
And his hair...
His long, red hair that had been so nasty looking in the dream that it had almost looked brown and was covered in a messy tangle of knots that had hung all the way down to his hips, was now gone. It looked to have been shorn away sloppily, and was now cut down closely to his skull with chunks missing and bald patches all over. His beard had been cut away too and there were bloody gashes all over his chin and swollen cheeks.
Had he been like this the whole time, but I'd not been able to see it in the dream?
"Romero?" I called out in a loud whisper. "Please tell me you didn't die on me."
I couldn't tell if his chest was rising an
d falling from here. I took a step closer to check his pulse when his head jerked forward and up, the chains around him rattling loudly.
His eyes snapped open and he whispered, "You. You came back."
Tears flooded my eyes as I jerked my head in a nod.
"I swore to you that I would, and I always keep my promises."
His lips moved slightly in what I imagined was supposed to be a smile, but looked more like something out of a horror movie with his face being beaten to shit and covered in cuts and blood.
He was alive. And that was all that mattered to me.
Chapter Nineteen
My Son Was Stabbed?
"You look like shit."
His body racked with silent laughter. The whole thing looked painful, and I told myself I wasn't going to make him laugh again until we got out of here and he'd been healed as much as possible.
"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" he rasped out. "You aren't looking so hot yourself."
I walked over to one of the torches on the wall and touched the flame to it. It lit to life brightly and I was able to close my palm again to snuff out the flame in my hand. I wasn't sure how much of my energy I would need to use for magical purposes to get us out of here, and I wasn't taking any chances.
I walked right up to the bars on his cell and placed both my palms against the bars. I closed my eyes and whispered words that would unlock the door. The lock on the door exploded and the door swung open. Bingo, baby.
I slid the open robe from my shoulders and shrugged it off. The naked man before me needed it more than I did. I looked down at my dress and saw what he did, and why he thought I didn't look so hot myself.
At the beginning of the night my dress had started out being white in color, and it's safe to say that it no longer remained that way. It had been stained red by the blood that had covered my body when I'd slipped it on. The blood covering my skin had stuck to me and dried, but now flaked off all over the place. My hair was still a wet mess stuck to the back of my head and the skin on my face felt tight all over, so I knew the blood was dried and crusted all over my face as well, likely flaking off in places just like the rest of my skin.
I probably looked a lot like how Carrie did after she had that bucket of pig’s blood dumped all over her. Only difference was, I didn't have a crown, and I'd willingly signed up for this shit.
I dug the fat, black marker and the small container that Julian had handed me before I left the house tonight out of the pocket of the robe. I rolled up the robe and placed it on the floor at Romero's feet.
I looked him in the eye and asked, "Are you ready for this?"
"No," he said quietly. "I most certainly am not. I always imagined I'd spend the rest of my life down here. I want you to know that if you can't get me out of here, that's okay, thank you for trying in the first place. I won't even hold it against you that you got my hopes up, just so long as you promise me, give me your word, that you'll take care of my boy and make sure he has a good life."
I would be promising him no such thing. He'd be leaving with me and he could make sure his own damn self.
"No can do, old man. You're coming with me and you can see your boy for yourself. I will take care of him and he's going to have a good life, but you're going to be there to witness it."
I held the marker up in front of him. "My man Julian made these babies for you. He's good at everything he does, so I'm sure they are going to work like champs."
He didn't respond. That was fine with me, I'd run out of things to talk about and I was shivering so hard my teeth were beginning to rattle.
I uncapped the marker and shoved the cap into my mouth, between my teeth. Because I didn't want to touch him, I didn't think it was right, I was careful to not brush up against him when I stepped up beside him. I stood on my tippy toes and stretched. I pressed the tip of the marker into the shackle around Romero's wrist, closed my eyes, and let my hand move how Julian had showed me.
I stepped down and back, moving around him and to his other side.
The shackle I'd just drawn on began to glow a dim orange color over the symbol I'd made. A loud clink sound and the shackle popped open. Unceremoniously, his arm fell limply down to his side. Romero stared down at it with his mouth gaping wide open.
I stood on my tippy toes once again and pressed the tip of the marker into the shackle around his left wrist. I closed my eyes and repeated my earlier movements, drawing the symbol Julian had showed me again. I opened my eyes and stepped back. The shackle made a popping noise and Romero's left arm came free, falling limply to his side.
He slouched back against the wall, watching me with an expectant look on his face.
Ignoring that look, I dropped to my knees on the floor before him. His words from the dream ran through my head, about me getting on my knees before him, and my face heated up in embarrassment. I told myself he hadn't known who I was when he'd said those things to me. Part of me knew it also wouldn't have mattered. He wasn't exactly a mentally stable guy and that wasn't something I could hold against him. I mean, I could, but given who he was, I wasn't going to.
Using the marker, I drew on both of the shackles surrounding his ankles and the locks sprung free. He stumbled slightly but caught himself with an unsteady arm against the wall. He could have easily fell forward and used me as a crutch. I appreciated he had not, and instead had used the wall.
Dropping the marker and small container to the floor by my feet, I stood with the bundled up robe in my hands. "Here," I said, as I held the robe out to him. I flicked it open and held it up. "Let me help you put this on so we can get out of here."
He held his arms out one after the other while I slipped the robe up his arms and up his shoulders. I pulled the front of it closed tight and wished there was some sort of clasp in the front so it would stay closed. I had seen more than enough of his nude body, thank you very much.
Both Quinton and Adrian were right, I thought snidely, I really was a prude.
Poor Romero probably didn't give a shit he was naked after all this time. He was beat black and blue and covered in cuts and blood. The man had bigger problems to worry about.
I reached up and pulled the hood up over his head, covering him up as much as I possibly could. I was careful to avoid actually touching his head and any of the bald spots on it from having his hair shorn. His body racked with shivers beneath the robe.
"It feels weird to have something rub up against my skin," he whispered, as his teeth began to chatter loudly. "And I'm so cold now. I haven't been cold this whole time, why am I all of a sudden feeling the cold?"
"I don't know," I muttered back the honest to goodness truth. This whole situation with him baffled me beyond belief. I still didn't quite understand the sheer magnitude of the Council's depravity, and I wasn't sure I ever wanted to.
I propped him up against the wall and bent down to retrieve the items I'd placed on the ground when I'd picked up the robe. The marker I stuffed back into one of the robe's pockets, in case we needed it on the way out of here.
I popped open the small container. I swiped my finger through the gray ash inside and smeared it across Romero's cheek, under his eye. He flinched, making me feel absolutely horrible, and I apologized softly under my breath. I repeated the same under his other eye, and this time he was ready for my touch and didn't flinch. I still felt bad because I knew he had to hold himself still while my touch hurt him.
He sucked in a sharp breath as he cursed softly. "What is that?" he asked. "It's been so long since I felt any kind of magic in a non-abusive way."
I shook my head in explanation, it was the only one he was going to get from me. I wasn't even going to attempt to explain the things Julian created. He was a legit madman and a genius all rolled into one. There was also the small fact I hadn't bothered to ask questions when he'd given it to me and instructed me on what to do with it. I had been far too anxious to bother with questions. I'd been all "yes, sir" and now here we were.
&nbs
p; I popped the lid back on the container and stuffed it into the robe’s pocket the marker had been deposited into.
"Stay here," I ordered, like I thought he might actually go somewhere. I left him propped up against the wall. I grabbed the torch off the wall and pulled it out of the circular ring. I carried the torch back over to him and held it up high. "Are we ready to get out of here?"
Was I ready to get us out of here? I was definitely ready to go home, that was for sure. This was the worst night of my life so far, and that was saying a lot because I had been through some serious shit.
One corner of his mouth tipped up in a small smile, and that was the only answer I received from him, but it was answer enough. I'd asked a stupid question, of course he was ready to get the hell out of here. If I thought this was the worst night of my life, what the hell did that mean for him? He'd been down here for years and living out a nightmare.
I shrugged my arm through his and wrapped it around his back. His arm went around my shoulders, and we were ready to go.
"They've always come from that way." He pointed in the opposite direction of where I'd come from.
I nodded. Okay. We'd go that way then. Hopefully we wouldn't run into anyone and we'd be safe. They'd all been chasing me through the forest, we were likely to run into them if we went back through the way I'd come from.
Together, we shuffled along with his bare feet scraping across the floor and my heels clack-clacking with every step.
We walked through another open doorway that was just like the one I'd walked through to get into the room with his cell.
We walked down a narrow hallway for what felt like miles and miles but probably wasn't. I think it only felt that way because we were going at a snail's pace due to Romero's lack of energy and the fact he had to stop every ten steps to catch his breath. He might have grown numb to everything over time while hanging up there, but the moment he'd been released, his feelings had come roaring back to him with a vengeance. He was weak beyond belief and his body shook so hard that mine shook right along with him because he held onto me so tightly, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to walk at all.