Fighter

by Jessica Wayne

  Vincent’s silver eyes narrowed on her face. “You look well.”

  “Unchain me and I’ll show you just how well I feel,” she shot back.

  Vincent’s chilling laughter filled the room. “I’m not an idiot, Niece. I have no intention of unchaining you.”

  “Then why the hell am I here?”

  “I’m going to use you. Sooner or later you will turn; you’ll have to in order to survive. And when you, do I’ll be waiting with open arms.”

  The way he studied her wasn’t human, his head cocked to the side in an unnatural angle and it gave her chills. How much of his soul had he sold?

  “Unlikely. I would rather die.”

  The door flung open, and four Brutes stepped inside. Each one smiled darkly at her, hitting fists against open palms.

  Anastasia laughed. “Is that supposed to scare me? How many times have I kicked Brute ass in the past?”

  Vincent smiled. “That was quite different, wasn’t it? With your magic and boy toy to back you up. Now you have neither.”

  “Who says I don’t have my magic?”

  “I blocked all magic but mine, Niece. I assure you, unless I choose to allow it, or you access everything you’re capable of, you will be helpless.”

  Anastasia swallowed hard, but worked to conceal the fear from reaching her face.

  Vincent turned to look behind him. “Do what you need to, but don’t kill her—yet.” He stepped back and the Brutes moved forward.

  She blocked the first blow, a crushing fist that would have otherwise connected with her jaw. The second smashed into her side, and Anastasia spun to land a kick with her unchained leg.

  “Baby bird has some fight,” one Brute laughed and brought its meaty fist down on the top of her head.

  Spots exploded in her vision and she crumpled to her knees, dazed. The blows continued coming, and she briefly caught a glimpse of Vincent, only, he wasn’t Vincent anymore.

  A tall man with pale skin and amethyst eyes stood in his place, a slick smile spread across his strong face.

  Anastasia rolled onto her stomach and pulled her knees up to protect as much of herself as she could. Pain radiated from every part of her body, making it impossible to gauge where the agony was coming from.

  Eventually the blows stopped, and she let out a shaky breath.

  Vincent had returned and knelt in front of her. “You will break, Anastasia. One way or another.”

  She spat and blood splattered the ground before her. “Not. A. Fucking. Chance. I will die first.”

  “Then you will die. Either way, you pose no threat to me.”

  Silver eyes flashed amethyst and he disappeared.

  “See you soon, baby bird,” A Brute said as he landed one last kick before they turned to leave.

  Anastasia rolled onto her back, desperately trying to catch her breath.

  “Bring it on, you fucking bastard,” she cried to her empty cage.

  13

  Anastasia

  Anastasia opened her eyes to survey her surroundings. She stood in the center of a cluttered living room. A calico cat rubbed against her leg. She turned slowly around, her breath catching in her throat. An elderly woman stood in front of a large bookshelf. The woman’s back was to her, but Anastasia saw the steel in her old bones with the way she carried herself.

  “Have a seat, Anastasia.” The old woman turned and smiled kindly. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  “I'm not even sure how I got here… or where here is.” Anastasia took a seat at the small table. Why didn’t her body ache? She’d just had the shit beaten out of her; shouldn’t there be some form of physical proof?

  As the woman continued busying herself by the bookshelf, Anastasia scanned the room. There was a fireplace in the center of one wall and floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the other. A small hallway jutted off toward the back of the living area, with one doorway at the end. The woman cleared her throat, bringing Anastasia’s attention back to the shelves.

  The room was familiar to her, although she knew that she’d never set foot there before; at least, not that she could recall.

  “I can sense your confusion. We will get to that.” The woman turned to smile at her again, and Anastasia was comforted when she looked into her hazel eyes. “I'm Carmen, and it is lovely to see you again.”

  “I don’t understand. I don’t think we have ever met.”

  “Sure we have.” Carmen took a seat in a rocker near the fire and removed her glasses. “Although, I doubt you would remember. You were but a baby when your parents brought you here.”

  “Gregory and Annabelle.”

  “Yes.” The woman’s mouth tightened and her eyes softened at the sound of Anastasia’s parents’ names.

  “How did I get here?”

  “I brought you here.”

  “How?”

  “How else?” she asked, amusement sparkling in her eyes.

  Anastasia narrowed her gaze. “Magic?”

  “There you go.” She smiled again.

  “Why?”

  “You need strength.”

  Anastasia nodded. She knew that she was in over her head now. Honestly, she had been since the day she had been born.

  “You sent Dakota away and stayed behind.”

  “He would have died.”

  “You could have gone with him.”

  Anastasia shook her head. “I had to stay behind and try to take out Vincent.”

  “There is no shame in surviving to fight another day, Anastasia.”

  The words cut deep to her soul. She hadn’t gone with Dakota because she’d felt herself slipping away. What if she’d already been too far-gone?

  “He is your light, my dear, and without light, we all will wander into the darkness.”

  “Just as Vincent did?”

  “Vincent is another story. There is a lot more at work here than light versus dark.”

  She remembered what Vincent had said about there only being power and more power.

  “Coffee?”

  Anastasia’s eyes widened and Carmen laughed. “Your father once brought me quite the stash from his trip to your world. I have been saving a small amount for this day in particular.”

  “You knew him well?”

  “I would say so.” She laughed and went about grinding some beans. “Your parents came to me when you were but six months old. They urged me to help them defeat Vincent, but I warned them against it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it was not their duty to bear. It was yours.”

  Anastasia stared blankly, and she laughed softly. “I wouldn’t have wished it on you either, child, but fate always finds a way of working itself out, and had they gone after him, they would have died quite a bit sooner.”

  She steeped the hot water through the beans and added some sugar.

  “You’re the Seer.”

  The woman laughed. “No. I just know that once something has been seen, it rarely can be changed.” Carmen carried the mugs over and handed one to Anastasia. “I once delved into the depth of my power for revenge,” she began. “You see, it is not the power that turns a soul black, but rather what that power is used for. Just like a person without magic may murder, but they were not born a murderer. We all make choices, and those choices have consequences.”

  Anastasia took a sip from her coffee, but she couldn’t taste it. Was this a dream?

  “I was about your age when it happened.”

  “What happened?”

  Carmen took a drink from her coffee and Anastasia noted the unshed tears in her eyes.

  “One evening, a man from the local village came to my cottage. He said that there was an urgent matter and that they needed my help. It caught me by surprise because the villagers had always kept their distance from me, afraid of the power I possessed.

  “Naturally, I jumped at the opportunity to show them I was not as they feared, so I kissed my husband goodbye and headed out the door. When I reached the village,
I was surprised to see that there weren’t as many people in the streets as there usually were, but I assumed that it was because of the emergency the man had told me about.”

  She paused, and Anastasia saw the difficulty she had with retelling the story. “It was when we got to the center of town that I realized I had been tricked. I turned to see that they were dragging my husband in as well and that he had been badly injured. The villagers began accusing me of being a dark sorceress. They offered a trade: my life willingly, or they would kill my husband. I agreed immediately, and they dropped him and came for me.

  “I let them come, let them tie me up, and I awaited my sentence as I begged for mercy and pleaded my case to them. I had never hurt anyone—with my magic, or otherwise. I promised that we would leave, that they would never see us again. I promised them whatever I thought they might want to hear. But none of it worked.

  “Then the man who came for me told me that he was disgusted with ‘my kind’ and that we were an ‘abomination’. He pulled a knife from his waist and slit my husband’s throat. I was forced to watch him die in front of me.”

  Carmen’s wrinkled hands shook, and she set her mug on the small table in front of her. “I lost my mind, and before I knew it, I felt the depth of my power flowing through my veins. I decimated that town, killed every man who had stood in front of me, judging me for what I had not done. They were the abominations.”

  The anger in her voice had Anastasia balling her fists. How she wished she could go back and help this woman get vengeance for her husband, kill those assholes all over again.

  “I knelt next to my husband and held him while blinding rage hummed in my veins. I wanted more blood, more power, and I was willing to do whatever was necessary to get it.”

  “What brought you back?”

  Carmen smiled now. It was hollow, but Anastasia saw the light in her eyes as she thought back.

  “My daughter.”

  “You had a child.”

  “Not yet. With the excess power in my blood I began feeling something more—a life force, almost. It’s the only way I can explain it. I felt her growing inside of me, her innosence, and she became my light. I pulled out from the power and promised my husband that I would raise her to make him proud, and that’s what I did.”

  “Did she have magic?”

  “Thankfully, no, she did not take after me in that aspect. Although, it seemed her heritage had her seeking out the power anyway.”

  “Seeking it? How so?”

  “She married into it.”

  “Is she still alive?”

  Carmen shook her head sadly. “Vincent killed her, and a woman by the name of Ophelia killed her husband. I think you know that name quite well.”

  “Wait—” Anastasia set her mug aside. “What are you saying?”

  “That I know what you’re going through, and that you aren’t alone.”

  “Annabelle was your daughter?”

  Carmen nodded sadly.

  “But that would make you my—”

  “Grandmother,” she said strongly, her back straightening in her chair.

  Anastasia didn’t know what to feel. She was ecstatic that she had family that was still alive. She wasn’t alone; there was someone here who understood what she was becoming and what she was capable of, yet a part of her was still confused as to how Carmen had found her in the first place.

  “When your parents brought you here, and they asked me to help them defeat Vincent, I opened myself, and I felt the power within you, child. It is incredible what you are capable of, and I imagine you could spend an entire lifetime exploring it and still hardly scratch the surface.”

  “Why? How did I get so powerful?”

  “Destiny is a funny thing. You were given the gifts you need in order to succeed in yours.”

  “But why me?”

  “Why are any of us chosen for certain tasks? We may never know, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that this is your destiny, child, and you are more than capable of achieving it. You only have to believe.”

  “How am I even talking to you now?” She searched for her last memory, and it was in the clearing when Vincent had slammed her in the dirt.

  “You are trapped. I was able to free your mind temporarily, but my magic won’t hold you much longer. I fear that Vincent has realized something is off.”

  Anastasia began to notice the strain Carmen was under. “We don’t have much time. You have to fight, Anastasia. Do not give up. We will find you.” She faded away, leaving nothing but darkness in her wake.

  14

  Anastasia

  Her breath came out in puffs as the chill dug further into her body. Beating her wasn’t working, so Vincent had resorted to freezing her to death.

  Truth was, she missed the beatings. At least they were followed by some sort of numbness as her magic healed herself.

  He had managed to keep her power from coming to the surface, but to his dismay it was still keeping her alive. Anastasia wasn’t sure why the hell he hadn’t just killed her, but as day after day passed, she wondered if for some reason he wasn’t able to.

  What other explanation was there?

  The door to her prison opened and two men stepped in. “Still alive!” one of them called back down the hall. “Man, you’re a tough one, aren’t you?” He knelt in front of her and ran a finger down her cheek. She growled, and he laughed. “What I wouldn’t give to go a few rounds with you; I bet you’re a hellcat in the sack.”

  “Touch her and I’ll skin you where you stand,” Vincent said from the doorway.

  The man’s eyes widened and he got to his feet. “Yes, Master, of course. I was only attempting to get in her head.”

  “Better yet, perhaps I let her magic loose and she can do the honors.” Vincent stepped closer and the man crumpled to his knees. His hands flew to his tattooed throat as he gasped for air.

  “You really going to kill him because of a threat? Please, you’d have no one left.” Her teeth clattered as she spoke, and it pissed her off further. She hated the idea of him knowing one of his methods affected her.

  “Fair point.” Vincent released the man from whatever magic he was using, and the asshat scrambled to his feet.

  “Thank you, Master. Your mercy is appreciated.”

  Vincent shrugged. “Don’t expect it next time.”

  The man nodded and all but ran out the door.

  “So, what’s the plan for today? Beat me some more? Turn on the heat? Honestly, I could use a change.” She stretched and forced herself to stand. She may have been bruised, but she was far from broken.

  Vincent studied her. “Truthfully, I’m impressed, but there are certain things even you cannot withstand. It may take me some time, but I will find them.”

  Anastasia made a spectacle of rolling her eyes.

  The door opened and Vincent turned. “Just in time.”

  A Brute walked in carrying a long whip, and Anastasia’s eyes widened. This was new.

  “Afraid?” the beast asked her.

  “Of a glorified belt? I’ve had worse.”

  Vincent’s temper flared and his eyes flashed amethyst. “You will break, child. I will see to it.”

  “Unlikely.”

  He raised his hand and Anastasia’s arms shot above her head. A chain wrapped around them, holding her in a standing position that had every muscle in her body screaming in agony. “Do your worst,” he instructed, and left the room.

  “So, what do you have for me today?” She put on a brave face, terrified of letting the monster see the fear that had beat out the cold.

  “Pain,” it said with a smile.

  15

  Anastasia

  Water dropped onto the floor somewhere in the room, a consistent sound that grated on every nerve in her body, each fucking drip like nails on a chalkboard to her now.

  The sound was nearly as torturous as the pain they inflicted on her day after day. Blood ran down her arm, dripping into the puddl
e on the ground, and she closed her eyes. With her arms chained above her, there was no way to stop the noise, or to fight back. The whipping had truly been unlike anything she’d ever felt, and eventually the pain disappeared and her body went numb.

  She was beginning to doubt how long she would be able to hold out. The pool of power beckoning to her was becoming more and more alluring with each passing day, but when she tried to reach it, the thought of Dakota pulled her back.

  If she turned, there would be no future. If she died, there was no future.

  Her situation was the epitome of a rock and a hard place.

  The thudding of footsteps caught her attention, and Anastasia forced herself to get up from her knees, determined to appear strong even though she was anything but. They had nearly broken her, but they had not succeeded yet.

  They would not succeed.

  Even if they killed her.

  “How’s our esteemed guest doing?” Vincent stepped inside the tiny, damp room, a smug smile on his face.

  “Just fucking peachy,” Anastasia said through clenched teeth.

  “Seems we haven’t beaten that mouth off of you yet.” He stepped closer and shook the chains holding her hands above her head. She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from crying out at the pain it caused. “Not to worry; I have something extra special planned for you today.”

  His eyes bore into hers, the black of his pupils nearly covering all of the silver.

  “What’s that? You going to talk me to death? Or send your blood hounds in here to beat me into submission some more?”

  Vincent let out a laugh. “If you would only agree to join me, this wouldn’t be necessary. Be glad I haven’t just killed you.” His eyes flashed blue for an instant, and then back to silver.

  “What’s with your weird ass eyes? Black soul doing that to you?”

  He glared at her, and for a moment she wondered if he was going to hit her. As of now, he’d only ever sent his Brutes in to do the dirty work.

  “Bring him in,” he called over his shoulder.

  Anastasia straightened. Oh no, no, no, please don’t let him have come for me. Surely Dakota was still in Terrenia. How the hell would he have gotten here? Or had Vincent trapped him?