Chapter 5 #2
"Of course you are." He pushed off from the counter, and this time she saw him move, the motion too fast, too fluid, not quite human.
He stood just out of arms reach. "The only question is whether you go conscious or not.
I vote conscious. Your expression when you see him again.
.." He shivered with anticipation. "I wouldn't miss that for the world. "
Desperate, Briar feinted left and dove right. He caught her easily, one hand closing on her throat. Not choking, just holding. His fingers against her skin were cool and smooth as polished wood.
"Shh," he said as she clawed at his hand. "Listen. Do you hear that?"
She did, despite herself. The motel was dying around them, wood splintering, glass breaking, the forest singing as it claimed another piece of the world.
"You have two choices," Thaine said. "Come quietly, and I will deliver you to him with your dignity intact. Fight, and I will drag you through the underbrush by that pretty hair. Let him see you broken and sobbing. Personally, I hope you fight. He likes broken things. Finds them easier to reshape."
The mark pulsed in time with her racing heart. Through the window, the last of the motel sign flickered and died, swallowed by green.
"I should mention," Thaine added, grip tightening fractionally, "the last person I brought back tried to bite through her own tongue. Thought death was better than facing him. Shall I tell you what he did to her for trying to steal that choice from him?"
Defiance drained from her body as she went limp in his grip. She let her shoulders drop, her hands falling from where they'd been clawing at his wrist. He smiled, satisfied, and loosened his hold just a fraction.
Briar drove her knee up hard.
Thaine doubled over with a sound that was part surprise, part fury. His grip released and she didn't waste time looking back. She ran, bursting through what remained of the office door while splintered wood grabbed at her arms, scraping flesh, but the pain didn't slow her down.
"You little—" His snarl behind her cut off, replaced by something worse. Laughter. "Oh, wonderful! It's been so long since one actually fought back!"
The parking lot was unrecognizable now. Trees older than memory thrust through asphalt, their canopy so thick she couldn't see stars. Roots writhed across the ground, trying to catch her ankles. She leaped, dodged, and kept moving.
Behind her, Thaine's footsteps were unhurried.
"Wrong direction!" he called cheerfully. "The highway's the other way. Although I suppose it doesn't matter. All roads lead to him now. That's the beauty of it, you know. You can run in any direction and still end up exactly where he wants you."
She veered left, toward where she thought the highway should be. A root caught her foot and she went down hard, palms scraping on broken concrete. The mark blazed with fresh agony, thorns digging deeper, and she bit back a scream.
She had to move, had to get up and keep running.
She scrambled to her feet, but the landscape had shifted. Where the highway should have been, only forest stretched—ancient and dark and waiting.
"Disorienting, isn't it?" Thaine was beside her now, leaning against a tree that hadn't existed seconds ago.
"The wonderful thing about the Betweenlands.
Direction is negotiable. Distance is a suggestion.
You could run all night and never leave this parking lot.
Or you could take three steps and find yourself in his throne room. Shall we test which he prefers?"
She spun and ran the opposite way. He appeared ahead of her, examining his nails.
"Since you’ve made your decision, I do hope you keep running," he said. "Each step makes the punishment more creative. He told me once that defiance is like wine, it needs time to develop its full bouquet."
Briar grabbed a broken branch and swung it at his head. He caught it one-handed, twisted, and suddenly she was spinning, falling, landing hard enough that it knocked the breath from her lungs.
"Points for creativity," he said, crouching beside her as she gasped for air.
"But you're fighting the wrong battle. This isn't about escape anymore.
It's about how you arrive. On your feet with a shred of dignity, or.
.." He traced a finger through the air above her face, not quite touching.
"Well, I've dragged them by their hair, their feet, their intestines once—that was memorable. The sounds she made..."
The mark was spreading. She could feel it now, thorns beneath her skin growing in real time, following the lines of her veins. Her left hand was going numb.
"On my feet," she wheezed, "or on my knees. Those are the choices, right?"
"Smart girl. Though technically, there's also 'in pieces,' but he might be upset if I break you… then again, it might be worth the punishment.”
She grabbed a handful of dirt and moss, flung it at his face, and rolled sideways as he recoiled.
Her legs tangled in roots that hadn't been there before but she kicked free, crawling forward, and made it three feet before a hand closed on her ankle.
"No more games." Thaine's voice had lost its playful edge. "You've had your little rebellion. Time to face the consequences."
She twisted, using momentum he didn't expect, and her foot connected with his jaw. He released her with a curse.
But when she tried to stand, the world tilted. The mark wasn't just spreading—it was pulling. Every beat of her heart dragged her toward something, toward him.
"You feel it now," Thaine said, rubbing his jaw. Blood leaked from a split lip, too dark for blood and thick as tree sap. "The call. You can't run from your own blood, little rabbit. And that's what you are now. His to shape however he pleases."
She tried anyway, stumbling forward on legs that didn't want to work right. The forest pressed in, paths appearing and disappearing, always herding her in one direction, guiding her deeper into the dark.
"This is taking too long." Thaine sounded bored now. "He's waiting. And when he waits, he thinks. And when he thinks..." He whistled low. "Well, let's just say you want him reacting, not planning."
Vines erupted from the ground, wrapping around her legs, her waist, her arms. Not painful, almost gentle, but inescapable all the same. She fought them, tore at them with her one good hand, but for every vine she broke, two more rose to take its place.
"There we go," Thaine said, walking a slow circle around her as she struggled. "Much better. Though I do appreciate the knee to the groin. It's been centuries since prey fought dirty. I might mention it to him. He collects fierce things. Likes to see how long it takes to break them."
"He'll get more than he bargained for," Briar snarled.
"They all say that in the beginning, but I am looking forward to your… performance." Thaine stepped back and gestured grandly. "Shall we? Your chariot awaits."
The vines lifted her, not roughly but with purpose, and then she was moving, carried above the ground. Thaine walked beside the writhing mass of green, hands in his pockets, whistling something that sounded wrong to human ears.
"For what it's worth," he said conversationally, "you lasted longer than most. One hid in a shopping mall once. Thought the crowds would help. I had to get... creative with the glamour that time."
"Let me go. I’ll do anything."
"Careful, little rabbit, of making such offers.
" He glanced at her, and for a moment something flickered in his eyes—not sympathy or consolation, but anticipation.
"A word of advice? When we arrive, kneel immediately.
Press your forehead to the ground. Don't speak unless spoken to.
Let him rage. Weather it like a storm. Fighting will only make it worse. "
"I won't kneel."
"They all say that." He looked ahead, and his smile returned, sharp and knowing. "The clever ones learn to kneel before he makes them. The stupid ones... well. Have you ever seen someone's pride physically extracted? It's messier than you'd think."
The forest grew denser with each passing moment, ancient trees pressing close. The vines carrying Briar had settled into a steady rhythm, and Thaine walked alongside, returning to his whistling.
"You know what I find fascinating?" he said suddenly, examining a dark stain on his sleeve. "The creativity he brings to punishment. True artistry. Not just pain, anyone can cause pain. He crafts consequences."
Briar tried not to listen, focused on testing the vines for any weakness. They held firm.
"Take the pixie who foolishly thought iron gates could keep him out," Thaine said, his voice taking on a storyteller's cadence.
"He turned her wings to autumn leaves. Beautiful, really.
They crumbled a little more each time she tried to fly.
They'd reform each dawn, her hope renewed, only to watch them decay by sunset.
Last I heard, she still tries to fly. Every. Single. Day."
The mark pulsed harder, thorns definitely spreading now. She could feel them following her veins like invasive roots.
"For you, though?" Thaine tilted his head, studying her. "You're special. The daughter who was promised. A debt twenty-five years in the making. I'm sure he'll want to make an example that lasts. Something... memorable."
"Shut up."
"Perhaps he'll grow you into one of his trees," he continued, undeterred.
"Your consciousness trapped in bark and wood, aware but unable to scream.
Watching seasons pass, decades, centuries.
Or maybe he'll be more poetic and make you forget.
Every sunrise, you'll wake thinking you're free, only to remember by nightfall.
The hope, the despair, the cycle. Delicious. "
The vines tightened slightly, as if responding to his words.