23. Here We Go Again
Chapter 23
Here We Go Again
Jared
“ W hy does it feel like we have done this shit before?” Marcus said, sounding as groggy as me when I had woken. He was the last to come around after we had all been knocked out. To say that I was pissed off, was a royal fucking understatement, as the last thing we needed was to be stuck in some fucking cell. One where the enclosure was reinforced with magic, which wasn’t surprising considering where we were. Because most Supernatural beings were strong enough to bend iron, hence why mortal prisons couldn’t hold us.
“That’s because we have.” My brother’s dry response was enough to say it all. We were pissed that we had been caught and no doubt had been secretly watched every second since making it out of the mountain. And now here we were, stuck in this crude cell that was made essentially from some skeletal beast’s remains. The ribcage acting as the perfect place to toss in some prisoners.
Like I said, the prison would have been easy enough to break had each bone not been etched with magical runes which ensured the casting remained. As for the space around us, it seemed to be some kind of holding area, one just outside of the arena I had seen from the battlements.
Thick netting acted as walls, and it was hung between square pillars made from the same ground-up bones and red mortar we had seen used. Then, overhead were stretched out sails made from stitched animal pellets, something that also mirrored the arena itself. It was like we were in some demonic Gladiator movie!
As for my brother, I had woken to find him stretched out with his arms folded behind his head as if he were on vacation. And how the hell he had gotten my leather jacket off me, I had no clue. All I knew was that I had woken up to find the cheeky prick using it as a pillow. I would have also believed him to be asleep had he not spoken, as he had his eyes closed.
“Got captured, tossed in here and nothing since.”
“Thanks for the recap,” I had replied wryly, before asking if Marcus was still out of it, which he had been at the time. But that was about an hour ago, and with each minute that passed I was getting more pissed off.
“How long have we been here?” Marcus asked, stretching his limbs and cracking his neck to the side.
“Too fucking long,” I snapped after he sat up, and not making the same mistake that I had when I had attacked the rib bones before realizing they were magically charged. Needless to say, I learned my lesson quickly, gritting out after this had happened,
“You could have warned me.” This was aimed at my brother at the time, who had simply shrugged and said,
“Where’s the fun in that.”
As for Marcus, he clocked the runes straight away, making a point of shifting further away from the sides just in case.
“Do we have any idea which arsehole has us locked up this time?” Marcus asked, making me lift my hands as I currently had my arse to the dirt with my knees bent and my arms casually resting on them.
“That would be me,” a new voice said, making me look up to find the very fucker we had been looking for.
I snarled low in my throat, making Orthrus say,
“It better be the one in charge, or it’s not worth opening my eyes for some bitch lacky.”
“That would be a no on the bitch lacky,” Marcus replied, whereas I continued my focus on the enemy.
“Well now, isn’t this precious?” the gypsy fucker said, smirking down at us. Of course, I didn’t want to give the big bastard the satisfaction of standing, giving him the misconception that I would need to square up to him. His size, despite being equal to my own, didn’t intimidate me.
Although just the thought of him having been near my girl, had me wanting to curl my lip and snarl. He was the one who had tried to have Ella taken to Hell the first time, having orchestrated her being kidnapped. And then working with that fuck, Orson, to get close to her, he had been behind it all. Which meant that he must have been working for Garmr.
But then how did that explain his connection to me and the part he played in luring my mortal self to the Hellfire Caves? Surely, he would have known what would happen, that I would be joined to my HellBeast? Unless that was the plan all along? To get me to abandon the gates, leaving it vulnerable enough for Garmr to make his move on the Underworld?
The second I got the opportunity, I would beat the answers I needed out of him, and I’d enjoy doing it too. Because I knew it wouldn’t be easy to break him, but then, where was the fun in that? Although it also seemed as if the curse I’d had Icarius place on him as punishment, wasn’t working against him like we had hoped. No, if anything, it looked as if he had found a way to utilize it, making him stronger.
Not that I knew much about the curse, only remembering the day of his capture. The screams coming from my dungeon, after he had been strapped to a table and worked on by Icarius. Only two things my council member had required, and that had been strips of old flax linen and the blood of some Romanian descendant he could soak them in.
After which, Icarius had emerged hours later, telling me that it was done and assuring me that Koro would be forever tethered to his realm. To live out his punishment for the rest of eternity, unable to ever remove the bindings from his now burnt skin. That he would not have the power to ever heal himself and would live in constant pain for the rest of his days.
But standing here now and I had to say, the guy didn’t exactly look as if he hated life, nor lived with the pain of his existence. Which meant he had found a way to not only heal, but to use the curse in his favor. Because the red strips of blood-soaked linen were still wrapped around his hands and no doubt were all over his body under his clothes.
His light-olive eyes glinted with the smug knowledge that I hadn’t found him the way I had hoped; weak and barely clinging onto life. Although knowing his part played in kidnapping Ella, then this wasn’t as much as a surprise to me as he no doubt anticipated. Hence why I purposely kept my reactions somewhat relaxed, knowing it would piss him off that he couldn’t get a rise out of me.
Those highborn, noble features of his gave him a cunning edge. What with his high cheek bones, straight nose, sharp cut of his jawline, and eyes deep set below a slant of dark brows. His long black curls were half pulled away from his face and tied at the back of his head in a well-groomed way. It seemed that he made the most of his handsome features, making me wonder if vanity could be an exploitable weakness.
“Not as precious as when my fist makes it through your skull and adds it to your walls,” I replied in response to his comment, making him chuckle.
“As blunt as always, Cerberus.”
“Don’t act like you know me, dickhead.”
He tossed aside his long, navy-blue jacket that was in the style of some 18th century military frock coat. Its black facing ran down each side, in thick demask velvet panels. The material held a faint floral pattern in a lighter shade of black that matched the dark metal buttons. Each of which had been decorated by roped silver knots, that also matched the stiff, high collar. Hell, at this point I was close to asking if he and Marcus shared the same tailor.
This flamboyant gothic theme continued with the full folded cuffs and style that framed the long split panels that reached to the top of his leather boots. A red and navy pinstriped waistcoat hugged his V-shape frame, showing hints of an unbuttoned burgundy shirt underneath. Fitted navy trousers were also paneled with leather strips down the sides that held hidden sheaths for the smaller blades he carried. As for his main weapon of choice, two swords hung on his left side. A weapon I knew was called a Falx, which was a typical Dacian sword, with its smaller counterpart being a Sica, that hung above it.
Now Marcus might have been the expert on this realm, its creatures, ancient language, and its Romanian heritage, but having blacksmith blood running through my veins, I knew my weapons. I had studied them most of my life and made nearly all of them at one time or another. After all, hundreds of years on Earth had taught me one thing and that was the importance of having hobbies, fighting being only one of them.
Once his jacket didn’t hinder his movements, he lowered to crouching so we were at the same level, his blades skimming the sandy floor. My snarled response in saying that he didn’t know me prompted him to grin before contesting,
“Oh, but I do know you, Jared Weller.”
I gritted my teeth at that, knowing that this fucker was one of the ones who dragged my sorry mortal arse into that fucking cave! The memories were still raw after all this time, and even more so now I knew that he had done the same to Ella. Yet before I could give him what he wanted, my brother responded on my behalf, knowing how close I was to losing my shit.
“Aww isn’t that sweet, you got yourself an admirer, bro. Tell me, dickweed, you the head of the fan club or just looking to get your arse cheek signed?” Marcus laughed at that, but it wasn’t enough to make Koro lose his cool, which meant we were locked in this reactive game of chicken.
“I would ask what it is you are doing in my city, but I think I can guess,” Koro said without taking his eyes off me, then he only had to utter one name…
“Carrie Ella.”
I gritted my teeth, lifted my head slowly, and pinned him with a burning gaze as I felt my eyes blaze. Then I snarled out a deadly warning,
“Don’t you fucking say her name!”
However, seeing that this finally achieved him getting a rise out of me, he grinned before stretching back to his full height.
“Well, that will be difficult… particularly if you wish me to find her for you.”
I narrowed my eyes before looking to Marcus accusingly. Because if this was the real reason he had brought us here, he was the next to find himself in a world of hurt. He shrugged his shoulders as if this was his version of asking for forgiveness rather than permission.
“That is not why we have come,” I snapped, although his laughter was quick to call my bluff.
“No? I find that odd seeing as she is currently not in the mortal realm. But you knew this already, just like others that are trying to seek her out also.”
I felt my jaw tick, knowing who he was fucking talking about. Which was when I decided to attack what I already believed was a weakness… his ego.
“And what of you, gypsy?” I snarled.
“Me?” he asked, placing a hand to his chest, like I would have nothing to offer in asking this.
“You failed in getting her to your master once before, so you really expect me to believe that you know where she is? As you stand here now dealing with us instead.”
He bent at the waist once more and told me,
“And just what makes you think that it was my master that wanted her?”
My hands curled into fists, so fucking desperate to hammer one into his smug mouth.
“I know who you work for, Poreskoro,” I said using his full name, something I knew he didn’t like, not when it reminded him of how he came to be. The details I was unsure of, but he didn’t know that my information was solely based on rumors. Rumors that obviously held weight if the angry glint in his eyes and hard set of his jaw was anything to go by.
“You know nothing, HellBeast, which is no doubt why that Seeker of yours brought you here, so as you can learn the difference between assumption and knowledge, for the latter you are clearly lacking in.”
I scoffed and dared him,
“Let me out of this fucking cage and I will show you lacking.”
“Yeah, when he knocks your teeth out and everyone calls you gummy gypsy boy,” my brother jeered.
“Nice,” Marcus commented, smirking at my brother. But as for myself, I wasn’t quite finished in trying to hit him where I knew it would finally hurt and ruffle his feathers.
“Say, how’s that curse of yours, any luck breaking it yet?”
He grimaced enough to make him look as if he was chewing on glass.
“My time will come but how about yours, HellBeast? Just how many times are you cursed with losing the women in your life?”
I was up on my feet and inches away from him with only the bones between us, the heat of the runes a welcoming feeling now scorching my skin.
“Say that again, cursed one?”
We stared each other down for long seconds before he scoffed once and wisely took a step back. Because it was clear now that he needed something, or he would have just killed us right off the bat.
“This achieves nothing,” he stated, making me fold my arms, my torn jacket on the floor where my brother had taken to using it as a pillow. Which meant I was still shirtless and in nothing but my jeans and boots, the dry dirt on the floor clinging to me in patches. But it wasn’t enough to hide my tattoo, or should I say the scar now marring it. Something his eyes homed in on.
“You finally claimed her.”
“Ella is mine,” I stated, making him look strangely relaxed by this, telling me,
“As she said you would.”
I frowned, taken aback by this as it wasn’t what I had expected him to say.
“Who?” I demanded, making him sigh before answering me with another question.
“You came here for answers instead of looking for your woman… why?”
I looked to Marcus before telling him, “Because I put my trust in a friend.”
“Good, then it is Fated to be this way just as he said it would be. But first you must prove your worth and fight.”
I frowned in question before a smirk quirked up my lips.
“Any place, any time, dickhead, just let me out of here and we can go at it.”
He laughed before replying, “Nice try but no. All who travel to the city of Blood and Bone must fight for which they seek.”
“Fight who?” I asked.
“You shall soon see, HellBeast,” was his cocky reply, making me open my arms and offer arrogantly,
“And when I beat all of your champions, what then?”
“Not all, just one, and when that fight is won, then you shall receive all the answers you seek and with it, where to find your Fated.”
I was shocked by this, as this wasn’t exactly how I expected this to go. I looked back at Orthrus and Marcus, who had already gotten to their feet by this point. My brother was shaking his head, already believing this to be a trap. But it was Marcus I was really focused on, as he was the only one who would know if this was my path to take or not. All it took was a slight incline of his head and I told Koro,
“Fine… ”
“You have your fight.”