Chapter 9 #2
A glint of metal caught my attention before something rammed into my ribs. I yelped, unable to stop myself from crying out as pain blinded me and my lungs stopped working. I turned onto my side, not wanting him to hit me again.
“You stupid fecking bitch,” Crag Face bellowed and kicked at me once more. I winced, expecting the same radiating pain, but it fell short. It hurt, but nothing like my side.
Bile inched up my throat, and I couldn’t fill my lungs.
“Get off me!” Crag Face yelled thunderously. “The bitch has to die.”
“Stop.” Scar Eye's cocky demeanor had vanished, and panic made his voice shrill. “Master Ainle wants her in the best health possible for the Whispering Veins . Even though she deserves it, think about what could happen to us .”
“She bit off my nose ,” Crag Face gritted out. “She has to pay!”
“Then we’ll have to pay for not obeying Master Ainle. Think about your family. His punishments won’t stop with just us.”
A sour taste filled my mouth, and my lungs burned. Even the guards feared Colm Ainle. Lovely.
“Fine,” Crag Face snarled. “Tie her up again. The wench can’t be trusted.”
“Now that I agree with,” the first guard replied, and strong arms pushed me forward.
I choked as my front was pressed into the floor. A foot stepped on my back, and I wanted to buck it off, but I couldn't move. Everything hurt, and I was too dizzy to get a sense of where everyone was.
My ribs ached, and the edges of my vision darkened as the guard continued to put pressure on me and tied my hands behind my back. Just when I thought I might die that way, my body was jerked upward by the rope.
The world swirled, but I managed to see blood running down Crag Face's hand as he clutched where his nose had once been. Warm liquid dripped from him onto my chest.
I swayed, and my knees buckled.
“We don’t have time for this.” Scar Eye hoisted me over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes, my lower ribs balancing on his shoulder. It was enough to keep additional pressure on my lungs and make the blood rush to my head even faster.
“I’ll follow behind you and make sure she doesn’t try something else,” Crag Face rasped.
They hauled me through twisting corridors, my head spinning with pain and my ears ringing louder than ever before, blood dripping from my chin and toward my forehead and hair.
And my lungs still weren't working. Black dots darted through my vision as I took in ragged gasps that felt like they didn't contain any oxygen.
Finally, they shoved me through a wooden door into a small room with a finished stone floor. The sharp scents of herbs and alcohol stung my nostrils.
A thin fae woman with ashen skin and hollow eyes stood beside a stone table. She wore a plain gray smock, and her hands were stained with what looked like traces of blood and dirt. She must be the doctor, or the equivalent in this place.
"Put her there," she instructed, pointing, her voice flat.
The guards heaved me into a sitting position on the table with more force than necessary. My hip banged against the stone, sending fresh jolts of pain through my already tortured body. I bit back a cry, determined not to give them the satisfaction.
"Leave us," the doctor said, not bothering to look at the guards.
"Orders are to stay," Scar Eye grunted. “This one’s the king killer. Not that she’s confessed yet.”
I despised these people and everything they stood for. The corruption here was just as bad, if not worse, than it was on Earth. These people were desperate for me to be their scapegoat. I opened my mouth to pop off a retort, but I didn’t have enough oxygen to even whisper.
“You think I don’t know that?” the doctor snapped.
She clicked her tongue as she rolled her eyes.
“You think Master Ainle hasn’t been excruciatingly clear about how she is to be prepared?
She’s got to be in better than decent health if she’s going into the Whispering Veins, especially if he wants her in there in the next hour. ”
The next hour ? No. Fate was a scaffing bitch. I struggled to control my breathing as my chest tightened.
“And I need aid as well.” Crag Face stood on the other side of me.
“You’ll have to wait until after her .” The doctor exhaled loudly. “Orders were given, and she is the priority. I won't have Master Ainle coming down on me. You won't bleed out in the next half hour, so grab a towel and call in a replacement.”
Scar Eye scoffed as he folded his thick arms over his broad chest. “Just get it done.”
Elias's warnings clawed back into my mind—silence so profound you could hear your own blood pumping, darkness so complete even shadow sight failed, void vermin that attacked without warning. My hands trembled… or at least I thought they did. Who knew at this point?
I wouldn't let them see my terror.
I flattened my palms against the stone and forced myself to take a slow breath.
Then I scanned the room for anything I could use.
It was a simple space, with numerous cupboards and counters filling most of the walls.
Medical supplies lined the shelves— jars of herbs, rolls of bandages, and cups of tools.
Probably scalpels in the one clay cup on the second shelf over the nearest counter.
If I could reach one of those scalpels, or even just that jar. ..
I had to try to escape. It might be my only way to get out with my sanity.
The guards positioned themselves between me and the door, their eyes tracking my every movement. Crag Eyes now had a towel pressed against the wound on his face, and he stared at me with so much hatred that I shivered. Scar Eye went to the door and bellowed for another guard to come at once.
The doctor stood in front of me, blocking my view of most of the supplies. Even if I managed to grab something, I'd be stopped in seconds.
“Don’t even think about it.” The doctor put a finger in my face and narrowed her eyes.
“You try escaping or even fighting, and I’ll carve a pain sigil on you that’ll keep you writhing till dawn.
” She scoffed and turned away, then rummaged through the supplies on the counter nearest the table, muttering under her breath.
When she turned back, she held a clay jar full of a murky brown liquid that smelled like rotting vegetation, vinegar, and spoiled meat. My stomach churned.
"Drink this," she commanded, thrusting it toward my face. "All of it."
I hesitated, eyeing the viscous fluid. Tiny black specks that looked like dead gnats were floating in it.
"It prevents infection," she said flatly. "Makes you more resistant to the elements. Doesn’t do much for the pain, but it’ll help you live to see a few more weeks. No bad side effects other than the taste. Can’t say the same for the tortures Ainle has lined up for you."
The guards chuckled.
I took the jar with shaking hands. There was no scent of sulfur to reveal the doctor was lying. Small comfort. Fuck them all . I hated them. If I could, I’d rip them apart.
I raised the jar to my lips, my breath steadying a little. The first sip hit my tongue, and bitter and slimy liquid swiftly filled my mouth.
My throat convulsed as I fought against my body's natural instinct to reject the foul concoction.
"All of it," the doctor repeated, her eyes cold and unblinking.
Each swallow was worse than the last. The liquid crawled down my throat, coating it with a film that made me want to claw at my neck. My stomach lurched. Breathing through my nose, I willed myself not to vomit.
"Keep drinking," Scar Eye barked, taking a threatening step forward.
I glared at him over the rim of the jar and forced down another mouthful.
My eyes watered as the sludge hit my empty stomach like a stone.
The last few swallows were pure torture, each one bringing me closer to retching.
When I’d finally drained the jar, I had to press my fist against my mouth to keep from spewing it all back up.
Tears sprang to my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
The doctor snatched the jar from my hands with a sneer.
"At least you can follow simple instructions.
" She turned away, set the jar down with a sharp clack, and reached for another container on the shelf.
She returned with a shallow jar filled with a pale green paste that smelled of mint and something sharper, more medicinal.
Grunting, she grabbed one of my ankles and yanked my foot up.
The sudden movement sent pain shooting up my leg, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.
"Hold still," she muttered as she began slathering the salve onto my raw, bleeding foot.
The paste burned like fire at first contact, and I couldn't stop the hiss that escaped my clenched teeth. My wolf snarled, wanting to rip the woman’s arm off, but I forced myself to remain still.
The burning sensation gradually gave way to an odd numbness that spread from my soles up through my ankles.
"What is that?" I rasped.
"Something to keep you from bleeding out before they're done with you," she replied without looking up. Her fingers dug in, pressing the salve deep into my wounds. “Can’t have you getting infected before you make your confession. ’Specially not if you’re going into the Whispering Veins. Might even heal you for good if you have enough magic in your veins. Healthier you are going into the Whispering Veins, better the torture. Not as much to focus on aside from the looming madness and silence, until suddenly there’s too much. ”
The doctor continued methodically treating my wounds, applying the burning paste to the cuts on my legs, hands, arms, and chin with the same clinical detachment.
"Stop flinching," she snapped when I jerked away from her touch on a particularly raw scrape along my forearm. "The more you move, the longer this takes. And my time is valuable."
She grabbed my chin roughly and turned my face to examine the cut at the corner of my mouth where Douchewaffle had dug in his claw.
Her fingers pressed painfully against my bruised jaw as she dabbed the paste onto the wound.
Healing always hurt, but this woman seemed to delight in her painful efficiency and offered no comfort. Not that she would to me.
Finally finished, the doctor moved away to replace her supplies.
I rubbed my arm, my thumb pressing against one of the bruises.
It still ached, but it no longer felt quite so fresh.
Somehow, that vile concoction had settled, and my feet no longer burned as much.
Small improvements. I cast another look around the room, hoping to spot some tool I could reach without the guards spotting me. There was nothing within arm’s reach.
Another guard entered. He had narrow gray eyes and a large reddish nose that had obviously been broken several times.
A clawed vine tattoo curled beneath his chin and straggled down his throat into his armor.
He jerked his chin toward the doorway, and Crag Face strode out, still pressing the towel to his nose.
Claw Tattoo had a dull orange mark on his gloves that resembled a mirror. He took up a position near Scar Eye, and the two whispered briefly. Claw Tattoo raised an eyebrow at something Scar Eye said, then muttered something that made Scar Eye grunt. How articulate.
Another ten or fifteen minutes passed, uncomfortable and unpleasant.
The doctor wiped her hands on a stained cloth and stepped back.
"Done. She'll live long enough for whatever Master Ainle has planned, and a fair bit longer than she’ll want.
" She turned away as if I were nothing more than a broken piece of furniture she’d glued together.
"Time to go," Scar Eye growled, reaching for my arm.
I jerked back, then gripped my stomach. "Wait," I blurted. "I feel sick. That medicine..." I clutched my stomach, doubling over. "I think I'm going to?—"
"Save it," Claw Tattoo snapped, grabbing my other arm. "Master Ainle doesn't like to be kept waiting, and you deserve everything you get after what you did."
My wolf surged forward, desperate and snarling, as they hauled me off the table. My feet hit the floor, and though the salve had numbed the worst of the pain, I still staggered.
The door burst open with a bang that made us all jump.
A thin fae with disheveled hair and wild eyes stood in the doorway.
His chest heaved, and he was pale, as if he’d seen some indescribable horror.
“Oh, thank Fate. I feared you’d already taken her.
Master Ainle demands to see the prisoner immediately in the receiving room. Do not delay. And put on your masks.”
Scar Eye scoffed. “Fine.” Both guards put the dark masks on over their faces and seized my arms, their fingers digging into my flesh as they hauled me out of the room. My feet skidded against the stone floor, the numbness from the salve making it impossible to gain proper footing.
"Move faster," Scar Eye snarled, yanking me forward.
"I would if I could feel my feet," I snapped back.
Claw Tattoo struck me across the back of the head. Stars exploded in front of my eyes, and I staggered forward.
"What's this about?" Claw Tattoo grumbled. "We were supposed to take her straight to the Veins."
"Don't ask me. I know as much as you," Scar Eye replied. "But I'm not questioning Ainle's orders."
I struggled weakly against their grip, my mind racing. What did Douchewaffle want now? Another round of torture before the Whispering Veins? And why did they have to put their masks back on? My wolf paced anxiously within me, sensing something was different.
We turned down a corridor I hadn't seen before, wider and better lit than the others.
The guards' boots echoed against the coarse stone, and my own feet made sick slapping sounds as they dragged me along.
The salve made my steps uncertain, and I skidded more than once, earning rough jerks from my captors.
They dragged me down another hall and shoved the door open.
"Get in there," Scar Eye growled, shoving me so hard I stumbled several steps into the room before catching myself. A sharp tug in my chest sent chills down my spine, and my stomach knotted. Even before I lifted my head, I knew who was there, and he wasn’t here to help.