Chapter 37 - Arwyn
ARWYN
The oppressive fog cleared, and with it my sensations returned. Whether I was damned in the darkness, I thought of Hector. My mind never swayed from him. So, when my vision returned, before I cared that I couldn’t move my arms or legs, I was shouting out his name.
“I’m okay,” Hector’s distinctive voice replied from my right.
I turned to find him sat in a high-backed chair. It was a heavy contraption which Hector was bound to. Thick leather straps held down his forearms, and locked his legs against the legs of the chair. I attempted to move my muscles and reach for him, but I too was locked in place.
We all were.
A row of identical chairs stretched out on either side of me.
The slight, no doubt deliberate, curve of the seats made it easy to see everyone who was sitting in them.
At the far left was Kai, whose beet-red face scowled as he fought against his bindings with no luck.
Beside him was Verena, head bowed as her dark braids hung and concealed whatever emotion she was going through.
Hector was next, his eyes pinned to me as if nothing else mattered in the world.
My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, then sunk as I realised there was nothing I could do to reach him. I didn’t want to look away for a second, but there were two people missing from my roll call, and I knew they were to my left.
Romy was stoic in the seat directly to my side. Her furious stare was pinned to the strange podium-like construction that waited in front of us.
And then there was my father. A smug and excited smile plastered across his mouth. If I wasn’t imprisoned in my chair, I would’ve strode over to him and removed that grin with my balled fist.
Every single scar across my body burned at the sight of him.
“Any clues?” Hector called out, saving me from losing my mind to my father’s profile. “Focus on the trial, Arwyn. Don’t think about him.”
I shook my head, steadying my breathing as I focused back on the only man I truly cared about.
Hector was turning as much as his bindings allowed, trying to piece together where we were.
If this was the third trial, it could’ve already started.
Piecing together our surroundings and making sense of it was the right thing to do.
I cleared my throat, not caring who listened. “It’s a barn of some description.”
Not dissimilar to the barn Hector and I had been inside when we’d gone back in time, and hidden from Witch Hunters.
Dirty straw coated the floor beneath our chairs.
I inhaled and practically tasted the faeces secreted by animals.
The room was box-like, with tall ceilings that gathered in thick beams of wood, and panelled walls that looked weathered and aged.
The only detail that didn’t make sense for a barn, beside the line of chairs, was the singular podium in front of them.
An old swath of material hung over the front, colours faded but I was certain it had once been a deep maroon.
On it, a symbol woven in thread that I’d practically overlooked. It was a mark I knew well.
It was my father’s symbol. The mark that he lived his life to serve. It was a Witch Hunter’s mark.
“I think I can burn the bindings off,” Kai said a second before I smelled smoke.
As the flames caught, before any of us could tell him to stop, the barn doors burst open. A gust of unnatural, stale air raced into the room with such a force I had to turn my head away. Straw and grit lashed into the side of my face. Kai gargled, and the smell of burning disappeared.
“There will be no magic permitted during this trial.” A hatefully deep voice oozed across my skin.
As the winds died down, and the doors slammed closed again, I made out the clip, clop, clip, clop, of hooves muffled against the floor.
“And this time, I mean it. That is not a twisted clue I give you to pass this trial. It is a fact. A warning, if you will. Use magic again, and I will devour your soul before you get the chance to plead for mercy.”
“Bahmet, how wonderful it is that you’ve joined us,” Hector hissed, spite mixed with his tone. “Is this the hovel you grew up in?”
“If I were you, Master Briar, I’d keep myself quiet.”
Rage crashed within me, a great storm of emotion at the way the goat-fucker spoke to Hector. Whereas I was swallowed by fury, Hector seemed to have enjoyed the reply.
Hector leaned as far in the chair as he could and spat. “Make. Me.”
“Believe me when I say, I will. By the time this trial has ceased, you will never want to open your mouth and spit your drivel again.”
I was equally impressed with Hector’s lack of fear, and concerned that Bahmet would actually take him up on the offer. Magic use or no, I’d find a way to stand in the fucker’s way if it came down to it.
Bahmet snapped his gaze to me, fixing me in place. “Hello again, old friend. I see those dark tendencies you hold inside your mind did not leave when you gave me up?”
“Come a little closer and find out,” I sneered, teeth showing like a rabid dog.
I meant my threat wholeheartedly.
Bahmet stood to side of the room, gloved hands clasped before his pressed suit. Piss-yellow eyes bore holes through each and every one of us in turn, the goat’s jaw clicking as if counting how many of us were left.
“I am going to refuse that offer for the moment, Arwyn.” My skin itched as the demon rolled my name out of his animal tongue.
He began to walk carefully towards the podium where he took his place behind it.
Before he addressed us again, Bahmet straightened out the material that was messed up in the wind, fingers carefully pinching the sides down and smoothing out the creases with the care of something stroking the hair of their beloved.
“I must first apologise for the lack of care that has been put into the trial you are each about to face,” Bahmet began, still focusing on the podium instead of us. “The third trial was not supposed to be this one, but you see my hand was forced, and I had to rush to make amendments.”
My smile grew wider. Bahmet had just confirmed that our invoking of Hekate had forced his hand. We won, regardless if I didn’t know the sheer hell that we were about to face, it felt good knowing we had some control over our fate.
“Although, the more I think about it, the more I feel as though I should thank you.” The demon’s eyes lifted, settling on our coven. “If it was not for your… disrespectful acts, I would never have got to play with old toys.”
From behind the podium, Bahmet lifted something for us all to see.
Tomin inhaled suddenly. By the time I looked at my father, his face had gone a sheet white. His head shook slightly, as if he was refusing what he was seeing. And yet, he was as trapped as we each were.
“Recognise it, do you, Tomin Hopkin?” Bahmet asked.
My father swallowed hard, the dark circles beneath his eyes looking more like bruises in this light. “I do.”
“I would hope so,” Bahmet said, waving the metal shape in question. “After all, you were the one who invented it.”
Invented it? My mind made something up in that moment. If my father had invented whatever it was that Bahmet held… it scared even him. If it was enough to inspire fear in someone as rigid as Tomin, we should all be worried.
Nothing scared my father… at least not until now.
I focused on the item, trying to make sense of it.
The device was made from iron; I could smell the blood-like metal in the air.
It consisted of a rectangular frame with two bars.
Rusted screws held most of the parts together.
Each of the bars had a small circle cut into them, for something to be put through.
There was a screw that protruded through the middle of the frame, with a worn wooden handle at the top.
“I didn’t put you down as someone who enjoyed sex toys,” Hector said, breaking the tension in the room. “If you’re looking for recommendations, Bahmet, may I suggest a Rose toy. I hear they are great.”
“Not. Another. Word.” Unseen lightning whipped between the demon and Hector. It was an atmosphere more than a true element, but it was enough to stop Hector in his tracks. Every hair on my head stood on end, making my skin itch beneath my long sleeves.
“Oh dear, did I hit a nerve?” Hector asked, scowl deepening. “Or is said nerve already frayed because we called upon your old friend, and she answered?”
“Hekate has no dominion here!” Bahmet screamed, the leather of his gloves screeching as he gripped the device tighter. “None.”
“I take that as confirmation to the latter half of my theory,” Hector said, leaning back with an incredibly pleased grin on his handsome face. “We can discuss more of that later, I’m sure.”
“What is it?” I shouted out, directing Bahmet’s fury away from Hector. “The device. You said my father invented it… for what purpose?”
Bahmet’s furry lip curled, showing rotten brown teeth in his maw. “Ask him yourself.”
Tomin didn’t speak, still trapped in his fear. It was Romy whose voice rose with an answer I never expected to hear. “It’s known as a thumbscrew. Also named ‘thumbkin’ since it was invented in Germany during their Witch Trials.”
“Indeed,” Bahmet replied. “Clever witch. You would covet the power I could give you greatly. I sense potential in you that none of these other useless witches possess.”
“I’d rather pick up shit and clap then ever let you anywhere near me.” Romy spat… literally spat on the floor in front of the podium, which only soothed Bahmet’s fury more.
“Well, that may be arranged depending if you pass this trial or not.”
I wondered if Romy had just put two and two together. My father, if he invented this device, had to have been around for many, many years. I hadn’t told them yet of what Tomin revealed to me during The Burning. Perhaps if I had it would’ve given them a better chance of surviving this.
What have I done?
“Would you like to tell your fellow competitors what the thumbscrew is used for, Romy? Since you are so good with your words,” Bahmet encouraged, walking around the podium until he came to stop before it. “Or would anyone else like to make an educated guess?”
“Torture,” Romy snapped. “To elicit pain to get the truth out of those who suffer it.”
“In part, you are wrong. Because describing this device as something for torture would depend on which party, those using it, or those having it used upon, would describe.
This is a tool of truth. One of the many, twisted might I add.
A way that Witch Hunters were able to get the truth of accusations out of the condemned.
“See these little holes?” Bahmet lifted them up until his demonic eyes flashed through the two gaps in the metal bars.
“A Witch Hunter would place the accused’s fingers, or sometimes toes, inside.
They would ask a question, most commonly ‘are you a witch’, and if the answer was not what they wanted to hear, this little screw would be turned and turned and turned until…
SNAP. Broken bones. Most accused only had ten chances to come to an answer that pleased those in charge.
Men, however, you got an extra chance to confess, if you know what I mean. ”
My groin shivered in disgust. If my hands weren’t strapped down, I would’ve laid a protective hand over my crotch. “So, this is the third trial. You ask questions, we answer them, and only if you like said answer, we pass?”
Steam billowed out of Bahmet’s nostrils, followed by an unnatural sound that was something between a chuckle and a bleat.
“Almost, Arwyn. These are the rules. You will each take turns, in no particular order, to speak your truth. There will be no questions, because if you know what I wish for you to reveal, there would be no fun in that. Instead, you must simply tell your deepest and darkest truth… you must confess. And before you ask stupid questions… no, you cannot cheat your way around this. It is simple. You have ten, gentlemen eleven, chances to speak aloud the one secret that you have kept that affects the group’s further success.
Got it? Think of it like this, for once you are all working as a team.
There is no tricking your way out of this one.
I have seen into each of your minds, I know the answer I seek. It is up to you to figure it out.”
No one spoke. Silence reigned. Even Hector had rocked back in his chair, face paling as he swallowed whatever it was he wanted to say next.
I didn’t miss the sudden glance Hector shot in Kai’s direction.
Verena finally looked up too, gazing over to where I sat, although her eyes seemed distant, as if locked elsewhere.
“What if we don’t give the answer you want,” Verena said suddenly, voice clear as crystal and full of resistance.
“Then you die. First, I will make you suffer pain like your ancestors faced in trials such as this. And then I will devour your soul, take your power and dine on your bones. Does that answer your question?”
Verena did not reply. The rules were straightforward.
Problem was, there were plenty of secrets I kept inside of me. How would I know which one Bahmet would want me to admit? I supposed it was whatever answer best suited his plans, but even those were still shrouded in mist.
“Welcome, to The Confessing.” Bahmet straightened, gloved thumb caressing the iron contraption like one would with a lover’s cheek. “A brand new, unique trial, just for you. Now, who would like to volunteer to go first?”
I couldn’t even get a breath in before someone replied.
“I do!” Kai shouted. “I volunteer to go first.”
Romy leaned forwards, fixing her wide eyes on Kai. “No, Kai.”
“I have to do this, Romy.”
Her broken, soft whimper replied. “Why?”
“To give you a head start,” he admitted, determination shaping his pale brows into a harsh line above his fearless gaze. “If I can work out the loophole first, it gives you a chance to get out of this without suffering.”
“How very noble,” Bahmet exhaled. Then, in a blink, he was standing before Kai, shoving two of his fingers carelessly into the holes of his devices. “Now, shall we begin?”