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***
Darkness swallowed the surrounding room.I battled to regain consciousness. The place spun. My limbs were heavy, not responsive. Cold seeped into my bones. As I moved, a sharp pain stabbed through my knees, my wrists. Pushing myself up, I grimaced at the wet stone floor beneath my hands, which stank.
The last thing I’d heard was Lycaon shouting my name…
Blue-black light dimly lit the cell, outlining the bars surrounding me. I could hear deep, gurgling breathing from somewhere, but no Lycaon. Frantically wiping my hands on my jeans, I searched my coat pockets but only found some tissues and my lip balm.
A growl that rumbled through the cells had the hairs on the back of my neck on edge. It was followed by heavy footsteps, grunting and the sound of metal being dragged along stone. I edged back, glancing through the bars, trying to see in the adjoining cells, but the dim light made everything barely visible.
From the shadows, two large shapes appeared. “That’s her. Go in and grab her.”
“You go, she’s a witch. She might turn me into a frog.”
“You mean a newt. She might turn you into a newt. Na, she ain’tthatgood. Plus, they cast a spell on her so she can’t do any magic. See? Now, go grab it.”
“Why should I? I always have to get them. Been spat on, even pissed on. Vomited on, whilst you just stand there looking disgusted. You want her, you get her. I’ll take the sword… Can we lob her head off?”
Demons!
They lumbered closer and, in the dim, inky light, I could see that they were like Anthony’s Hell demons. Instead of teeth, they seemed to have tusks, huge over brows and beady scarlet eyes that darted over me. A mass of muscle. They looked cumbersome, but I knew from rumours that they could move extremely fast. As they peered through the grimy cell, I saw white and crimson paint adorned their beastial faces, their charred skin covered with leather armour. But really, I smelled them long before I saw them. Sweet smelling isn’t a category I’d put them in.
Stifling my fear, I felt for my athame, but I already knew it was gone. Damn, if I only had longer nails, or I hadn’t bitten mine. My eyes searched the filthy floor in the gloom. I just needed something, anything, to shed a little blood. Blood magic was all I had now to even stand a chance.
As I looked up, the one who’d wanted to cut off my head stood outside the bars grinning madly as he held the sword aloft. His companion rattled the keys in the rusty lock. I lowered my eyes, trying to will my body to stop shaking violently as I scanned their armour. They had daggers. I’d need one of those if I lived long enough.
“You’re with us, move.”
I tried to speak, but my voice caught in my throat. The stinking demon shoved me forward, whilst the other sniggered. “Any trouble, I’ll take your head.”
Yeah, thanks. I kind of got that part.
As I walked past more cells, head bent, I glanced in, trying to see if I could see Lycaon. But only darkness reflected back at me, and the only sound was the heavy breathing from the two monsters behind me.
My boots stuck to the ground as they marched me forward and high above us, a roar bellowed through the walls. Clenching and unclenching my fists, my stomach churned with dread.
Where was Lycaon, and where were they taking me? Probably to my death. Even though my heart pounded faster at that thought, it surprised me that a soft, blanketing feeling of stillness wrapped around me at the thought of dying. Of nothing more. An inner calm that I’d only felt from meditation or deep spell casting. It allowed me to breathe easier, which was unfortunate in those skanky, hell ridden cells.
The rancid stench clung to me, my clothes. As we climbed the stone steps, the growling noise above grew louder.
The demon shoved past me and took his keys from his belt. They jangled as he placed them in the lock, grating until at last, the door opened and fresh air swept over me. Around me I could see stone walls.
I was inside some kind of keep, a castle of sorts and above, a clear blue sky that had the demons flinching.
Finally, I found my voice. “Where am I? Where are you taking me?” I tried to sound commanding, like I wasn’t terrified.
It didn’t work.
All I got was a fist between my shoulder blades. “Shut up! Another word, I’ll take a finger. After that, your hand. Can’t weave your spells without hands, eh? Bloody witches.”
Stinking demons! Where the hell am I?
As I thought over the events that led me here, the feeling of calm lifted, replaced by fear. I swallowed hard, my throat raw as panic rippled through every fibre, every muscle, every cell before turning to anger.
But I had to rein it in. I wasn’t a match for Adara or the demons.
I knew they hadn’t lied about wanting to kill me. My limbs like lead, heavy, devoid of magic. A pit in my stomach. Only blood magic could reverse that. It was my secret weapon.
The fortress walls had macabre statues with wailing faces that leaned out of them. Like the guardians of death watching over me.
