Page 36

THIRTY-SIX

Micha

“Ashley,” my voice bellowed across the room.

She twisted and turned, a crown of razors gracing her beautiful head. Her face was streaked with blood, a crystal glass in her hand which fell to the floor the second her eyes found my own. Her mouth gaped open, recognition flashing through her features.

The blond demon at her side grasped her upper arm as she struggled. Her lips formed my name, heavy with question as she said, “Micha?”

Diego strolled to the couple before directing them forward. “That’s far enough,”" he stated.

Ashley was close enough to touch as she tilted her head, confusion clouding her face. The demon I knew was Samuel, glared at me, eyes bright with fire and warning, daring me to make a move.

“I will get you out of here,” I told her. "If it's the last thing I do.”

“Micha?" she repeated, shaking her head. “Aren’t you dead?” Her eyes turned glassy as her gaze sought the very spot she’d punctured my heart.

“No, angel,” I replied. “Even if you’d killed me, I’d still come for you. My soul would find yours.”

She glanced up at Samuel. “There's a such thing as ghosts,” she said. "Why didn't you tell me? I don’t like this dream.”

Not even Josiah and I had drugged anyone to this degree. Horror filled me at how far gone she was. “Stop drugging her,” I growled at Samuel. “If you care about her at all, you’ll protect her.”

Ashley giggled, reaching to swat me before he yanked her hand back. “I’m fine, he takes good care of me. I feel good. Don’t you?” She glanced up at the man holding her back.

He kept his eyes on me, wisely not trusting me. “I do, love,” he answered her. “And I always will,” he added, a vicious smirk tugging the corner of his mouth.

“Enough of this nonsense. Take him away,” Diego ordered. “Waste of time,” he muttered.

The soldiers dragged me backward, the heels of my shoes rubbing against the floor with a squeal. Trying to dig in did nothing but shoot shocks of pain through my body. Breathing through it, I managed the best I could, still fighting for freedom and keeping Ashley in sight.

She stared, Samuel prodding at her with displeasure, until I could no longer see her.

The doors shut behind us with finality and they dropped me to the floor, my vision swimming when my head hit the cold stone.

I shut my eyes, and I was lifted into the air, giving me a brief respite from the blinding pain. After an elevator ride, I was deposited into a cell, the arms holding me above heads suddenly disappearing. As I lay there, I watched a trickle of blood flow into a rivulet on the roughhewn floor. The gate shut with a clanking sound, and I sat up, fingering a gash in my eyebrow.

Scooting across the floor, I stopped when I felt the wall. I was in the bowels of the castle, in one of the same cells I used to torture prisoners. I knew what lay beyond the bars of my new home, I knew the horrors and degradation that awaited in the chambers beyond these confines, just a few, short steps away. Not once did I imagine I’d be subject to the torture I’d met out.

The hours I spent studying before my arrival would not be spent in vain. Time was running out, as evidenced by Ashley’s deterioration and I’d need to utilize everything I’d learned. Her mind and sanity were hanging on by the frailest of threads, so I quickly set to work.

As expected, the cell was protected by multiple protective spells, a thick coating of magic encased the block, sealed with my own signature. The holdover from older days would prove useful in unwinding the vibrations ensnaring me.

The magic recognized me as a prior master and finally, I was able to partially escape the confines of my body and clearly view the elaborate design. The spellwork appeared like a grid, strong glowing lines crossing over the other like a web or a net, energy sparking where the tendrils touch and weaved together.

When I set to work, I began untangling the sorcery and reversing its intricate charge. Alarms were built it, set to cause the vibrations in frequency that would alert the guards and soldiers. Other spells consisted of the reading of auras, designed to destroy any spark of hope it detected in one’s spirit. Another had the mission of inciting violence in a prisoner, purely for the entertainment value of whoever was monitoring the cell. There were too many to count, but all designed with the mission of ensuring the victim was incapacitated.

My main focus was the alarms and my primary goal, escape. I was in the process of dissolving a sticky, ethereal security thread when I heard boots pounding the granite and returned my consciousness fully to my physical body.

“You didn’t think we wouldn’t know, did you?” A soldier sneered, keys jangling as he unlocked the cell. The surface of the door wavered lightly, its magic encasement recognizing authority and sparing the man the sting of its bite.

With a flick of his hand, my ankles and wrists were tightly wound with the same type of chains as earlier, sending shards of pain through my limbs. “You can’t blame a man for trying,” I said, fighting to keep a clear head. I knew what was coming next and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it.

A chain flew through the air before circling my neck as other soldiers arrived. “Let’s go, motherfucker,” the first soldier announced.

My body was dragged by my neck along the cold, rough floor, the treatment activating the infused chains. It was all I could do to stay alert and try to concentrate on the thread of my own inherent magic. I would need every ounce I could muster up if I were to survive.

The problem was, I hadn’t had time to disable all of the crippling magic that surrounded me. Not only was it in the air I breathed, but it was also infused into everything else, biding its time and ready for action.

I’d helped bolster the system myself, strengthening and reinforcing the grid, while employed by the Collective. I knew the ins and outs of the system. But I also knew I’d barely touched the wellspring of magic contained within my own soul.

My gift lightly buzzed through my veins before turning to flame, fully awakened by the thought of discovering its depths. The binding chains heat turned to a deep chill, and I focused on cracking the steel girders wrapped around my limbs.

My throat and stomach ached, the hunger for more blood all-consuming. The amount of energy I’d expended since my arrival was significant, and I wouldn’t be able to continue the same pace unless I replenished. I knew my captors could see it and sense it.

I was hoisted onto a hook similar to the meat hooks Josiah and I used to use but this one was thinner, sharper. Ideal for inflicting maximum pain and compliance. The bladed edge sank into my spine and the remaining blood in my stomach was expelled when I heaved.

“Micha, Micha, Micha,” Ethan drawled, entering the chamber. “I thought you were smarter than this.” He turned to the soldiers. “You may leave.”

The men marched away, leaving the two of us alone. My voice was thin and raspy, but I said, “I am.”

“Mm,” he hummed. My eyes were shut and when I opened them, the gleam of metal flashed before my eyes. Scalpels.

Ethan trailed the knives around my body lightly, using care. They were going to take their time draining me. Thin rivulets of blood began coursing down my torso and he ripped my shirt away, tossing it to the floor in a heap.

Once satisfied with his current work, he waved his hand at the wall and a projection began to glow like a movie screen. My heart thudded, knowing he was going to force me to watch something I’d much rather not.

My toes were the only thing holding me up but as I weakened, I sank. The hook tore against my spine and loosened more flesh, taking my breath away.

“Watch the screen and I’ll put a piece of wood under your feet.”

Tilting my head up, I tried to ready myself.

A lingerie-clad Ashley walked into the frame, a seductive smile lifting her lips. I looked to the left and could see Samuel lying on a bed watching her, ready, with his dick in hand. She climbed onto the bed and crawled toward him, where he greeted her hungrily.

Ethan was forcing me to witness the scene, my head and eyelids under his control with nowhere to turn and shield myself from the sight. His goal was to inflict maximum damage and inspire rage. He wanted me to fight, to scream, to strike out.

I didn’t have the energy.

I’d seen the influence my home and the environment had on the woman. The delirium and confusion had been as plain as day; she was drugged out of her mind. Ashley was not herself and I doubted she even knew where she was, never mind what was being done to her. It was my only consolation.

The floor ran red with my blood and had I been a full-blooded demon or vampire, I would’ve been dead already, the loss was that great.

The only reason I retained any of my faculties was due to the unique nature and magic of being a crossbreed. The combined power was stronger and under duress, each side fought for dominance. Neither side would admit defeat. I should have been able to break through the chains that bound me, but my captors had been quick to blood let and weaken me.

The movie had progressed, and Ashley was riding Samuel, in the throes of passion. My anger was blinding and my frustration, all-encompassing. Ethan was hovering by my ear, alternating between laughing and talking shit, as if I couldn’t see what was before me.

I pushed through the pain and the heartache as hard as I could, but I knew I’d have to admit defeat.

The reality was, I was fighting against myself. I’d been the architect of the very torture I was undergoing. It’d been designed to kill and destroy, body, soul, and spirit, and I knew my work was impeccable. I’d just never imagined I’d suffer at the hands of my own system.

Eventually, the delirium got the better of me and despite my eyes being wide open, darkness closed in. My body was lifted from the hook, and I was strapped to a table, my legs and arms pulled tight before tubes were shoved into my veins. Two at my wrists, and two at my thighs. They were about to inject me with something.

When I’d been working with Josiah and we reached this stage of the process, we’d shoot people up with vile energy harvested from wraiths, sending it straight to their hearts. The beings were the aimless, wandering souls of deceased lower level demons full of anger, loss, bitterness, and the uncontrollable urge to devour souls. They were famished, and unable to ever fill the void within.

Often, when Josiah and I would reach this point of the torture, the victim would die.