Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
The difference between this situation and our previous fake kidnapping set up all those years ago is huge.
They have chained John to the wall with silver.
Attached to the short chains are silver manacles that have spikes.
Like an inside out-dog collar’s, the spikes dig into his skin.
I did a lot of reading over the years and I now understand that silver only harms a shifter if it gets into the bloodstream.
He has thick collars around his neck, wrists, waist, and thighs.
The nasty combination pins him literally to the wall.
Everywhere the silver touches, he bleeds, and the skin around the wounds that I can see has a black tinge.
To me, it looks as if his skin is dying.
I swallow the bile that is attempting to claw its way up my throat and I bite my lip so I don’t make a sound.
This archaic way of keeping him secured is not only stopping John from shifting to heal, it will painfully bleed the shifter magic right out of him.
He’s shirtless, and his blood-crusted black pants are tucked into his black boots, which come halfway up his ankle.
His hair isn’t long enough to be tousled, but it looks unbrushed and messy, and dark stubble highlights his jaw.
Chained to a wall, he’s lost some of that killer efficiency that makes him so terrifying.
I hate this. How the hell am I going to get him out of those chains without hurting him further?
Women up, Emma.
I wave. “Hi, I am here to rescue you,” I say, slurring around a mouthful of demon teeth.
John lifts his chin from his chest and raises an eyebrow as he slowly takes in my red demon form. His lips twitch and he huffs out a bitter laugh. “Why did you come?” Wow, that’s it? No, “Hi sweetheart, you’re looking fetching this evening. Thanks for the rescue…” I roll my eyes.
I clop closer and between one step and the next, I allow myself to shift back. Everything dissipates, including the sword. My shift leaves me dressed in leggings, boots, and my favourite black T-shirt that has a bunch of flowers and a knuckle-duster on it and the words fight like a girl.
I am trying my best to remain blasé, but inside I’m freaking out. A younger, less powerful shifter would have already been dead.
The muscles in his shoulders and arms tense as he leans forward towards me, and the chains on the wall clank and groan as they hold him in place.
“Please…” I squeak out, “Please don’t move, you will hurt yourself.
” I swallow. Oh, this is bad, this is so, so bad.
My bottom lip wobbles but I force myself to speak.
“So you have a vampire problem? You seem to be in a bit of a pickle, John. Urm…how do we do this without hurting you further?” My voice cracks, revealing the panic I’m trying my damndest to hide.
My hands flutter. I don’t know where to start. Blood is running in rivulets down his arms and neck; it trickles down his chest. This shitty situation is going to give me nightmares for a very long time. I tremble as I inspect the horrific, archaic setup. I gnaw on my lip.
Oh, God, he must be in so much pain.
John lets out a gruff laugh. “It’s not me that has the vampire problem—I came to rescue you.”
“Screw you, I rescued myself,” I say back with a fake angry huff.
“I’m not the one chained to the wall, Hellboy.
So, the whole rescue attempt worked out well for you…
I thought you were off-world. You shouldn’t have come back to save me, John—I had everything in hand.
What did you think you were doing?” I glance at his poor wrists.
“Please tell me how to get you out of these chains.” My voice breaks.
“I will always come for you,” he mumbles, his eyes closed.
“Get out of here, sweetheart. I am too weak. What were you thinking, coming here on your own? Go before they catch you. You need to get as far away from me as possible…I keep making mistakes. I’ve lost my edge and I’ve slowly been losing control for years.
Look at me, I can’t even do a basic rescue without fucking everything up… It’s fucking shameful.”
I ignore him as I intently study the manacles. There is so much blood on them, on the floor. John’s blood. I need to get them off.
“Yeah, yeah, and you’ve lost man points ‘cos you’re being rescued by a girl…have you heard yourself? That’s a little hypocritical, John. Where has my fighter gone?” I mumble.
My heart pounds in my ears. I flick my wrist and a long, thin pick appears between my fingers.
I think it’s better to start at his feet.
I don’t want to practise on his neck or wrists.
As I drop to my knees, I decide I’ll use the pick and my smoky magic on the spiky cuffs on his legs.
It’s a shame I can’t imagine a key that would fit… yeah, that would be way too easy.
“Didn’t you see my badass demon form? I’ll get you out of here before the vampires get brave enough to intervene.
I’m pre-warning you…if I have to shift and throw you over my shoulder, I will.
Isn’t that the way it goes when you rescue someone?
The damsel always gets carried by the hero.
” I grin up at him and wiggle my eyebrows. “You’re the damsel.”
I smirk. If that doesn’t motivate him to move his bum when I free him, nothing will.
“Will you find my sister? Tell her…that I’m sorry.”
I clamp down hard on a sob that wants to smash its way out of my lips. No, I’ve got no time for that. “Tell her yourself,” I growl back.
“This world doesn’t take any prisoners. If you’re weak, Emma, you die. Tell her our pack wasn’t weak. Our father was one of the first of his kind, a hellhound. In the beginning, they called him a fire wolf.” John coughs and his strong voice becomes a rasp.
What on earth is he going on about? I spare a moment to peek up at him. His bright green eyes have gone dull, unfocused.
“He was an incredible warrior…”
Oh bloody hell, my hellhound is doing his death speech.
He doesn’t think he is going to make it.
John grimaces and black blood seeps from between his lips.
My heart thuds in panic and I force my attention back to my task and focus.
I narrow my eyes and bite down on my tongue, which is sticking out the side of my mouth.
With shaking hands, I dig my magic and the pick into the locking mechanism.
Bloody hell, what a time to learn how to pick a lock.
“The world of shifters you know today differs completely from the world that I was born into almost a thousand years ago…nine-hundred and twenty-two-years. There was equality between the sexes, with no difference between men and women. We had female warriors and male caregivers. In those days, shifters were all about pack. Wolf, bear, even the dragons—it didn’t matter. We coexisted peacefully.”
“Perhaps you should save your strength—”
“My father said the beginning of the end started with a group of rogue fae.
They decided the shifters were getting too strong.
I was young when they started killing our females.
It took us a while to notice the pattern.
That shifter women were not dying in normal circumstances…
no, they were being targeted. At first, it was one or two, and then dozens as more races joined in on the cull.
“In horror, we attempted to keep our remaining females safe.
We adapted, and we changed for the worse.
The carefree shifters became dangerous and in many ways incredibly selfish.
We lost our dignity, and with that, our strength.
Our women suffered the most, losing not only their friends, their mothers, and their sisters…
but also their freedom. Many fought the changes and were beaten down and forced.
Others embraced it, as everyone was frightened.
I never experienced again the joy, the comfort of being a shifter.
All I saw was pain, war, fighting, and oppression.
“Before my eyes, as a race we changed…I changed. My pack, my sisters Nessa, Clare, Gwen, and my mother became targets. Hunted not by the other races but by other shifters, because as our women became rarer—a commodity—shifters became more aggressive in their pursuit for mates. My father worked tirelessly over the years to keep them safe. Until one day on leave from battle, I came home too late, and I watched helplessly as they ripped apart my pack. I destroyed the perpetrators. But I couldn’t save them.
My smart, funny, incredibly talented sisters were gone.
My father, who was a better man than I’ll ever be, was killed.
Not by an outside enemy, but by friends.
Jealousy, panic, and fear rot. Only my mother survived.
“In the aftermath, she discovered that she was pregnant…with another female shifter. Another fucking problem.” John lets out a sad-sounding laugh.
I lift my eyes from my task as he drops his head and his eyes plead with me to understand.
The spines of the collar dig further into him and I watch helplessly as more blood trickles down his neck.
His sorrow is palpable and my heart aches.