by Rory Miles
It couldn’t have been that long. Everything hurt. My fingernails even ached from the deep magic’s abuse. Pain so fresh meant only a few hours had passed.
They, whoever they were, had chained me next to Flynn and had taken my weapons. Flynn’s light snoring filled the air. The woman and boy were awake, eyes wide with fright. I attempted a smile but the edges of my lips cracked. Blood welled in the corners of my mouth.
“What happened?” I croaked.
The boy turned his wide eyes to the woman, huddling closer to her as though she’d protect him from the monsters. I frowned. The DMC hadn’t taken families in the past. Daman must be growing restless—or reckless.
The woman tucked the boy’s head into her chest, whispering consolations to him and avoiding eye contact with me. I sighed. They had probably been threatened with various kinds of torture if they spoke with me.
I twisted my hands in the restraints. The skin around my wrists rubbed against the metal. I jerked my whole body forward, causing a loud clank. The boy cried out. The woman glared at me. I yanked again, trying to slip my wrists through.
“S’no use,” Flynn slurred.
I glanced at him, noting his ashen face. The right side of his mouth drooped. My lips drew down into a hard frown thinking of the amount of healing he needed.
“Do you have any better ideas?” I bit back my anger. Daman had controlled him. He likely had no idea he had restrained me.
A defeated laugh was the only response I received. The boy stared at me, tears running down his cheeks. If looks could kill, his mother would have murdered me ten times over. I thumped back against the wall. I’d been prepared for the possibility of capture. The cyanide pill felt heavy in my shorts pocket.
Not yet.
If I couldn’t figure a way out of this place, I’d be using that pill very soon.
Chapter Sixteen
Hours passed. Flynn slept off and on. The woman and boy continued to ignore me, speaking in hushed tones. My eyes grew heavy. Blinking rapidly to chase away sleep, I looked around the room again. They’d stripped the room of any weapons or tools I could use to free myself. The chains were still long enough to allow a fair amount of movement, enough so that I could stand and stretch when my butt grew sore from sitting for so long. At least that hadn’t changed.
My neck felt strangely bare without Lumi’s reassuring presence. The door snapped open as I eyed the outline of a stain for the hundredth time. Harsh sunlight filled the room; dirt and dust blew in through the entryway. Daman stood just outside the threshold, watching me with an angry glint in his eye. Three men flanked him.
“Morning, beautiful.” I smiled demurely at him.
His jaw twitched. The angry glare began to eat away at my confidence and dread filled me. The men behind him stared straight ahead. They hadn’t even glanced around the room before assuming their mindless militant stance.
Was Daman controlling them too?
“Would you like to join me?” I lifted a chained hand, rattling the metal around.
Violet tinged the whites of his eyes. The longer he gazed upon me the more uneasy I became. The violence rolling off him bothered me more than him ignoring my comments. I opened my mouth to speak but the door slammed shut before I could say anything. I puzzled over his peculiar behavior.
Why had he come? Why hadn’t he said anything?
Flynn groaned.
The moon ceremony was days away. If Flynn survived until the ritual, Daman would take his magic, ripping away part of his soul. I shuddered. I knew the loss of power all too well. Reid destroying that essential piece of me had been a better fate than Daman taking it. My brother hadn’t known what would happen. There had been no ill will toward me. Every experience I had with Daman had been more painful than the day I lost my magic. He enjoyed causing pain.
“I’m hungry, Mama.”
I turned to look at the young boy. His lower lip trembled.
“Shh, little one. The man will send food soon.” The woman smoothed his dirty hair and patted his cheek.
Large tears slid down his face. “He didn’t send breakfast. Is it because of her?” The boy’s voice broke.
The finger he pointed at me cut deeper than any dagger Daman could wield. Daman punished them to hurt me. His mother cradled him in her arms, their chains laying across her lap as she sang a soft lullaby to him. She continued to sing long after his tears dried. Her eyes locked on mine. The pain, hatred, and torment I saw within them held me captive. Unable to look away, I watched as her face crumpled. Her voice didn’t waver though, remaining soft and soothing as the woman fell apart, clutching her son to her so he wouldn’t see.
But I saw, and felt, every emotion that crossed her face as if it were my own. I cursed Daman to the furthest reaches of the lands. His approach had changed, but it was clear to me he’d begun methodically dismantling my sanity. Closing my eyes and shutting out the gentle song, I focused on the anger burning in my chest. I’d find a way out again. I had to.
Something was burning. Fire crackled close by. My eyelashes fluttered against fabric.
Blindfold.
Loose dirt and rock moved as I felt the ground around me with trembling fingers, trying to determine where he’d taken me. The hiss of the fire was closer now. I frowned. I hadn’t moved. There were no areas within the DMC grounds with multiple fire pits. A strange sensation passed over my bare ankle.
A cat’s tongue?
Nothing made sense. The hissing grew more persistent. The fire popped. I flinched, expecting to be hit by errant embers.
How were they moving the fire closer?
Then the strange, rough licking of a cat came again. A small weight crossed my leg. A scaly body.
Not a feline. A snake.
I froze, dread dripping through me.
A. Mother. Fucking. Snake.
The only snake I knew Daman had was Milly, a mountain viper. Milly’s venom had been a key component to some of my more nefarious inventions for Daman. To say the least, the snake hadn’t liked me. I can’t say I blamed her, considering I milked her poison from her fangs on more than one occasion.
Could snakes remember people?
Milly slithered further up my leg. When she reared up, she would likely hit my shoulder or neck. I begged the goddess she wouldn’t strike at my face. While prisoner of the DMC the first time, I’d built up a tolerance for Milly’s venom. Hopefully four years without it hadn’t weakened my ability to metabolize the poison.
I’d be sick, probably for a few days, but I wouldn’t die.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
The portion of her long body that remained on my leg went rigid. I waited. An angry hiss came just a mere foot from my face.
Goddess, I wish she’d just fucking bite me already.
“I’m the only reason she isn’t attacking you.”
Daman’s words were distorted, no doubt by a gloating smirk.
I didn’t dare breathe or speak. He could revel all he liked.
“I’ll make you a deal. Come back to the DMC for good. Work for me, and I’ll take Milly away.”
Work for him?
Come back?
He said it as if I had a choice the first time. Like I had a choice now. Mama didn’t raise no fool. Daman would find a way to get what he wanted from me. Still, I refused to give in with the first threat. I’d been bitten by Milly before.
“Bite me,” I said, spitting toward where I thought he stood.
Milly answered the command. Her fangs pierced the tender flesh of my healed shoulder. I gasped, head hanging back and mouth yawning open. It couldn’t be a real sensation, but somehow, I felt her venom seeping into my blood and pumping through my body with every beat of my heart.
Daman cursed.
I strained to understand what he said but already I grew woozy. Milly had yet to let go.
How much venom did he plan on letting her inject?
My head snapped forward as someone ripped Milly from my ski
n, causing more damage than necessary when removing a snake. The flesh around the wound grew hot but my fingertips were ice cold. I sucked in air, the venom already messing with my senses and making it feel crisp, like the first freeze of winter.
Dark objects danced across my vision. The blindfold still tied around my eyes blessedly kept the hallucinations at bay, for the most part. Hyenas yipped behind me, nipping at my arms. Somehow the imaginary creatures managed to get me onto my back. I thrashed. I couldn’t let them take me. They’d eat me alive. Angry yips echoed around me. Something hard smashed into my head and everything faded away.
“Is she dead?” a small voice asked.
“Shh, don’t you worry about that,” someone answered the small voice.
“What will happen to her body if she dies?”
Coughing, deep and rattling, interrupted the voices. Silence fell, disturbed only by the occasional rasped breath. My limbs were heavy. Trying to move a finger was like trying to lift a bolder.
“She’s awake.” Void of emotion, Flynn’s voice roused me from the last vestiges of the poison’s grasp.
“Wa-water.” My tongue was dry and swollen, my eyes weeping tears I couldn’t brush away.
Metal dragged across the wooden floor. Flynn lifted my head up enough to tip a small trickle of water into my mouth. The sparse liquid washed away the vile taste on my tongue. My throat bobbed as Flynn gave me another drink. After three more, I held up my hand. He helped me sit up, tugging on my stubborn body. The little bit of water I drank sloshed violently in my stomach. I turned away from him in time to vomit.
“Gross,” the little boy said.
“Shh,” his mother hushed.
I sighed, hanging my head. “Sorry. It’ll pass soon.”
Waking from the poison meant the worst had passed. I’d be sick for a few days but my soul no longer straddled the line between life and death.
“How long has it been?”
Concern rippled across Flynn’s face. “A day.”
The ceremony was in three days then. I still had no idea how we’d get out of this mess. Dark circles bloomed under each of his eyes. Sleep evaded him as much as it had me when I first came to the DMC compound. Though after a certain amount of time, my body demanded I sleep. He hadn’t reached that point yet. Most never did. I’d been a roommate of sorts for the new prisoners, nurturing them the best I could given the circumstances. In the end, my compassion only served to anger Daman.
I had little hope of Bron or any of the other men coming to the rescue. Bron would barely be reaching them now. They’d never make it in time to save us. Assuming they even wanted to save me. I’d been nothing but an unwanted nuisance since the day they returned. Corban and Noah liked me well enough, but attraction didn’t necessarily mean affection.
Everyone in the room tensed when loud steps sounded outside the door. With a swift click the door swung open, and a familiar shadow fell across the floorboards. I braced myself, knowing Daman had come back for me.
That night and the next day passed in a blur of pain. Alternating between pumping me full of deep magic and whipping me, Daman found his glory. Cackling like a man gone mad when my cries of agony morphed into the wails of a dying animal. Flynn cared for me to the best of his abilities. Given the chains and lack of medical supplies and healing magic, there wasn’t much he could do aside from offering water and moral support.
The day of the ceremony arrived much like any other day. A dazzling sunrise masked the sinister air circulating the compound. Sensing the growing excitement and fear from the prisoners, the deep magic seemed to curl out of every crack and crevice of the house.
Had Daman used the magic to repair the house or had he placed it here to plague us with even more fear?
The drumming began when the sky descended to the trees. Mournful singing filled the air; the cacophony of male voices sent shivers down my spine.
The ceremony would start soon.
I glanced at the woman and boy. She stared at the wall, resigned to her fate, while her son clutched her. Daman hadn’t touched them yet. He had saved all of his usual abuse for me and Flynn. Since I arrived, I’d received the brunt of the visits. Flynn had only been taken from the room twice while I’d been taken six times in two days. Nothing like a well-balanced diet of pain to keep you feeling fresh.
Just before the sun’s light faded, I heard the whoosh of the torches. The choir had begun their fifth song, another deep mournful sort of tune, when several pairs of feet marched toward the house.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to Flynn.
His glassy gaze found mine. “I don’t blame you.”
His words lifted some of the guilt I’d been carrying. Since meeting me, nothing had gone right for Flynn. If it weren’t for me seeking him out, he’d never would have ended up here. I pulled out the pill I’d been saving, turning it over in my hand. Flynn gazed at the oval shape, face scrunching in confusion.
“Do you want it?” I’d been saving it for myself, but the least I could do for him was offer him a little peace.
“No,” he croaked. “You should take it.”
I raised my eyebrows at the mother, tilting my head toward my hand. Disbelief and outrage flickered in her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by contemplation. When she dipped her head in acceptance, I tossed her the pill.
“It will take longer if you halve it but it will still work.”
For the first time the woman’s face softened. “Thank you.”
I turned to face the door, lifting my chin in defiance. Daman wanted four deaths. Four would die, but at least two of their own accord. My lips lifted slightly.
He would be pissed.
Chapter Seventeen
Daman stood at the center of a raised wooden platform. He clapped his hands twice, the sound amplified by magic and causing a few men near the front of the crowd to startle.
“The time has come to start the ceremony.”
Shadows from the firelight undulated around the clearing. Over two hundred DMC members crowded around the fire, pushing to get closer to the stage. The pit, lined by several giant boulders, had four large logs burning within it. Torches lined the edges of the area, enclosing everyone in a circle of fire.
Not exactly safe, if you asked me.
Daman’s back was turned to us. The four prisoners kneeling on the platform didn’t worry him. I’d seen the mother instruct her son to swallow half of the pill while she took the other portion.
When the crowd quieted down, Daman spoke again.
“We will begin with a demonstration of how the power has progressed since the last extraction.”
He turned, gaze passing over the four of us. My brows rose in surprise when he pointed at the boy. He hadn’t chosen me. He always picked me for demonstrations because I had no magic. Flynn’s mouth drew down in disapproval and the young mother began to beg for mercy.
“Come now, it won’t hurt.” Daman’s sinister smile belied his words.
“Use me,” I said, scooting forward on my knees before the boy could move.
Daman glared at me. “No.”
“The boy doesn’t deserve your cruelty. Use me,” I said, my tone almost begging.
He sighed, shaking his head at me like I had yet to learn the ways of the world.
“The boy.”
At his command, two men scooped up the boy, depositing him on his knees before Daman. His bony shoulders began to tremble when purple magic flared from Daman’s fingertips.
“It’ll be okay,” his mother whispered, a tear rolling down her face. “It’ll be okay, baby.”
Had Daman known I’d given them the pill? How could he have known?
A flash of blond hair caught my attention. I turned, frowning at the familiar mop. My eyes widened slightly when I saw Erik and Noah standing near Corban.
Impossible.
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the delusional image. There hadn’t been enough time for them to make it. When my gaze swept the
area again, they were gone. My mind had finally broken.
I focused on the growing magic in Daman’s palm. Gripping the boy’s head, Daman tilted his face up toward the magic. No matter how many times he said he had a new plan, all Daman ever did was pull the magic from his prisoners. Whatever he planned to do would only be a variation of his tired routine.
Tendrils of violet magic spiraled into the boy’s mouth. His body seized; Daman held his head firmly in place. I waited for the moment violet would change to whatever color the boy’s magic was. Once Daman began siphoning his power, the flow of the colors would reverse, feeding back into his palm.
Violet turned to bright purple, pumping and spiraling into the boy’s mouth faster and faster. His face contorted, eyes clenching shut. An anguished cry passed his lips, stifled by the power and barely reaching my ears. The visible skin began to glow, his limbs growing and body plumping until he turned from gaunt boy to grown man.
When he opened his eyes, they shone bright purple, his pupils blending with his sclera. A moment of confusion passed over him before he fainted. His mother screamed. The crowd waited, their silence deafening.
What had Daman done?
While his creation lay limp on the stage, Daman turned and raised his hands to the crowd.
“I give you the first person hand-crafted by deep magic.”
Soft murmurs traded between friends before someone clapped. Soon hundreds of hands slapped together, cheering on their leader. Daman beamed, throwing his head back in triumph.
The man Daman had grown grunted. His shoulders, strong and broad, lifted from the ground as he used one large hand to push himself up. His forearms flexed as he jumped up from the floor. At full height he was taller than Bron. Trembling fingers covered the mother’s lips as her disbelieving eyes met mine. What he’d done shouldn’t have been possible, growing a boy into a man within seconds.
“What’s your name?”
The man blinked at Daman.