Twenty-Two
Kallie
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Goddess, my fucking head is reeling.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Can someone turn off that fucking faucet? I think to myself.
The pounding in my skull is unrelenting, and a burn begins to set in through my shoulders. A bright light is cast in my face, making me squint, and everything around me is hazy.
What. The. Fuck. Happened.
Callum, Magic, Dad, then…lights out.
Fuck.
Instinctively I want to bring my hand to my head, but after a few unsuccessful attempts, the brain fog lifts and I’m hit with a wave of realization and understanding. My hands are bound behind my back, and my legs are tethered to the legs of a wooden chair. Twisting my wrists, I try to gain some wiggle room in order to untie the knots, but all I do is give myself rope burn. My feet are bound around the legs of the chair, and my middle is firmly secured as well.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This isn’t happening. Is this another nightmare? Please be a nightmare.
Panic grips me in an iron fist, and I start to hyperventilate, beads of sweat forming on my brow.
“You were out longer than I intended you to be.” That voice. There’s no way. “Honestly, Kallie, I expected more of a fight,” he continues. Everything stills with a paralyzing fear. My head swings back and forth, but my vision is spotty due to the bright-ass light hanging in front of me.
Squinting, I look around the room, trying to make out his figure. Boxes are piled high against the white walls, and concrete floors line the pathways through the maze.
“Come out, you fucking coward!” I seethe. A menacing laugh is the only reply I get. The sound bounces off the walls, echoing around me. My head swivels in all directions, but I’m unable to locate where it started. In the distance, something catches the light, a glint in the far away darkness. I make out his silhouette, leaned up against the wall, twirling a knife in his hands.
“What are you doing, Ryan?” I ask, trying to keep my tone as even as possible. My eyes continue to filter through the debris, trying to find a way out.
“What does it look like, Angel?”
My head snaps back toward him. “ Don’t call me that,” I spit, glaring daggers in his direction.
“Or what? It looks like you’re a little…tied up.” The evil smirk I’ve come to know spreads over his face. “Orders were quite simple: find you and bring you to the king. However, I’ve made a few…adjustments to the plan.” I stay quiet, listening while trying to untie these damn knots behind me. “Believe me, I had no idea who you were all those years ago. Imagine how much fun we could have been having all this time. But…” He lets out a sigh as he pushes off the wall. “Here we are. Like we were meant to be together all along.” His head tilts to the side, and he leans to the right, trying to see what I’m doing. “You can try all you want to get those off, but they’ve been enchanted.” This motherfucker. Does he know I know?
“Enchanted?” I question with my brows pulled together. Maybe playing dumb is the route to go. If he doesn’t know I know, I might stand a chance.
“Why do you look confused?” He eyes me up and down, as if he can see the lies hovering around me.
“Uh, because I am confused, idiot.”
“Well, this just got a whole lot more interesting.” He looks back at the knife he’s been holding, admiring the blade. “Tell me, have you made any new friends on campus? Maybe a boyfriend?” He takes leisurely steps toward me, obviously wanting to take his time.
“Ryan, cut the shit. What do you want?” I ask again, willing any of these powers to get me out of these ties.
“It’s not about what I want, per se, but what the king wants. I need to bring you to him, but I think we should have some fun first.” Fear clasps me in an iron grip.
No, no, no. Not again. Absolutely the fuck not.
Where’s Callum? Was he in on this?
Callum, if you can hear me, I could really use your overbearing help right now, I say in my head, hoping that it goes somewhere.
“Don’t you fucking touch me.” My words are engraved with irritation and revenge.
He stops just short of me. “Don’t you remember how much fun we had last time?” He drags the tip of the knife down the side of my cheek as he speaks, a shudder rolls through me, and bile rises in the back of my throat. “Oh the way you squirmed and screamed for me. Does my little slut want to play?”
“I was never yours. Now get the fuck away from me!”
Smack.
The sting spreads over my cheek, down to my jaw, and up through my temple, making the headache even worse. Asshole.
“You ungrateful bitch. You know what they’re going to do to you, don’t you? Don’t you want one last fuck to follow you into the afterlife?”
Blood runs down the side of my mouth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about! Goddess, you’re a real piece of work. Tell me, how was Angela? Did she finally have enough of your shit too? Or did this ‘king’ want her dead as well?” I prod.
“The king only wants you. Why I can’t just kill you myself is beyond me. But I’ll make our last time together count, Angel. You want my dick in every single hole of yours, I know you do. Begging me for another round, you greedy bitch.” Is he fucking delusional?
“When have I ever said that?”
Smack.
Blood gushes out of my nose, and I’m very certain I have a permanent concussion.
“Oh, come on, is that the best you got?”
A vicious smile curls on his lips before he stabs the knife into my thigh. “Hold that for me, would you?”
A blood-curdling scream explodes out of me as the blade is shoved into my flesh. Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I try to keep them back, but as my muscles constrict, letting the tears fall, hitting the concrete floor.
He turns his back and saunters over to a tower of boxes. He begins rummaging through them, and my fingers work overtime as they fight for purchase against the knots. I can’t believe the fucker stabbed me. I wince in pain at the slightest shift, blood spurts out one side of the wound, and more tears meet the ground.
I have no idea what he’s looking for, but something tells me I don’t want to find out. What did Callum say about accessing my magic? Filing through all the information he dumped on me, I finally have it. Anger. Anger has been the fuel to light my fire—literally.
I let all the fury and rage simmer, harnessing all of it into my hands. That soft-orange glow begins to surface around my skin. I close my eyes and imagine it coming back into me, drinking in every last drop as it dissipates.
My pointer finger brushes over one of the knots, and it gives little resistance before the smell of burning twine penetrates my nose.
A box is thrown across the small room, Ryan still searching for whatever torture device he has in mind. I let out a small breath of relief as the binds loosen, but I can’t just pull free. I need a plan.
“Ry, you’re right. I’m being ungrateful. I’m— I’m sorry. Come here, I’ll make it all better,” I say sweetly. He stops his movements, slowly turning to face me and eyes me warily, unsure if he should trust me. “What am I gonna do, tied up like this?” I bat my eyelashes, but I think that might be overselling it.
Hesitantly, he walks toward me, his body rigid with caution. I lick my dry lips, catching some of the dried blood with the tip of my tongue. “Let me show you how sorry I am.” He bends down so we’re face to face.
“Always the beggar,” he comments, leaning in to kiss me. I wait until his eyes flutter closed before I rear my head back and give him a good old-fashioned head butt. Blood spurts out of his nose, lines of red painting his upper lip.
He stares at me, bewildered, bringing a finger up to catch the blood dripping. “You’re gonna fucking regret that.” He seizes me, wrapping his hand around my throat. Every fiber in me wants to reach for his arms and tug them away. I fight the urge and stay calm. Ryan squeezes harder, for sure leaving a mark. Dizziness sets in, unconsciousness hovering, waiting to pull me under.
“You know what you always did, Ry?” I ask, gasping with every other word. “You always underestimated me.” I see when the burning smell reaches him. A questioning look passes over his face, and he cocks his head to the side. Before he has a chance to pull back, my arms swing to my front, and I let all the fire I’ve been harboring out, a ball of flames flys out of my hands, hitting him right in the chest.
I will never get used to this, I think as I watch his body soar through the air, hitting the wall with a big thud. He slumps to the floor, and boxes pile on top of his limp body. Is he dead? Sure fucking hope so, but I doubt it would be that easy.
I wrap my hands around the rope that’s trapping my legs then the one holding my middle. The material singes and begins to fray until all that’s left is a pile of ash laying beneath me. I pull the knife free with one hard pull, and blood pours out of the wound. I bite my lower lip, hoping to stifle the scream. I take my shirt off, rip it in half, and tie it above the stab wound, silently thanking all of those reruns of Grey’s Anatomy as I do.
That will have to work for now.
Wincing in pain, I push off the arms of the chair, trying to keep most of my weight on my good leg, but with a little pressure on the other, every instinct I have tells me to sit back down. Burn marks cover Ryan’s arm, the rest of him covered by fallen boxes. Keeping my eyes glued to him, I hobble to the doorway, breathing through the pain with each step.
What is this place? Presumably, I thought we were in a basement, and the more I look around, I believe I’m right. There are no doors that lead outside. Actually, there are no doors period. Just a bunch of empty openings leading to other unknown areas of this maze. No windows. No way out.
How did he get me here? Most importantly, how do I get out?
Boxes rustle from where I left Ryan, and I immediately rush to the nearest room. But with no doors, I’m basically left exposed. Stepping into the room, all I see is red. Literally. Blood splatter paints the walls of the room from floor to ceiling. It looks like an episode of Dexter.
What the hell is going on? Slowly backing up, I stop almost instantly when my hair is gripped at the roots. “Going somewhere, Angel?” Ryan asks, his breath hot on my ear. Then he drags me back to the room where we started.
“Let me go!” My nails dig into his arms, but it’s no use. Finding one of his fingers, I pull it back like a slingshot until I hear the desired crack.
He instantly drops me, and wails of pain leave him as he cradles his hand to his chest. My head smacks against the hard floor, creating stars that blur my vision.
“You broke my fucking finger!” he barks, spit following his words.
Cupping my head, I don’t have time to wallow in the ache and stand on my good leg. “You’re lucky it was only the finger,” I say, wincing as the pressure rises in my head.
His uninjured hand twists out, and vines sprout from nothing as they cascade from the ceiling. Under some sort of unspoken command, they worm over my leg, right over my wound. “Fuck!” I scream as the plant tightens around my gash. My hand flies down on instinct, and once I make contact, it stops and they instantly let me free. They graze up my arm, almost in a caress as another one meets it behind my neck, draping over me like a long scarf.
What the fuck.
They just lay there, like lap dogs awaiting their next command. Stretching my arms in front of me, they follow, and goosebumps rise at the unfamiliar feeling.
“What are you doing?” Ryan asks in a panic.
“I have no idea,” I answer honestly.
“Your eyes.” I stop paying attention to him, watching the bizarre shit that’s happening around me.
Like snakes they slither over to Ryan, wrapping around him like a mummy, he tries to regain control but it’s proven futile as they constrict him like boa.
“Stop it!” he yells at me. And with just the thought, they do. “What are you?” he asks. I stare at him, not giving him an answer, because how the hell should I know? “I thought you had fire powers.”
“I do. Now enough with the questions. How do I get out of here?”
“You don’t. Someone is being sent to extract you.”
“How did you get in, then?”
“I can’t tell you that, Angel.” He knew he fucked up as soon as it left his mouth. Shaking his head, he fights the vines holding him hostage, but it’s no use. I release him only to have two balls of fire ready to strike. Throwing them both at him, he dodges the first one, but the second hits him in the side, and he falls to his knees. Burning flesh takes over the smell of the room, I hobble closer to him and send my knee into his jaw. He spits blood out and pathetically crawls away from me, still holding his broken finger close to him.
The knife I had lodged into me sits a few feet away. I summon the vines back, like it is second nature. It takes no thought at all to have one bring it to me, then they ascend on Ryan. Lashing toward his limbs, two wrap around each of his ankles, pulling taut. The thrilling sound of his nose smacking against the concrete brings a sinister smile to my face. Blood pours from his face, covering the concrete under him. His attempts at taking control over my new friends are ineffective. Another set of vines sprout from the ceiling and curl themselves around each of his arms.
My head throbs, and every muscle in my body aches with so much pain that the only thing keeping me going is the adrenaline.
“Not so tough now, are you, Ry-Ry?” My tone comes out mocking as I examine the blade. The blood—my blood—is starting to dry, crusting over the metal.
On his back.
That’s all it takes, a small thought—command—and the vines flip him over. He immediately starts gasping, like all the air in his lungs has rushed out, and he can’t get any more. I adjust my grip on the hilt so the blade is facing away from me.
“What was it you asked me earlier?” I pretend to ponder as I use the butt of the hilt to scratch my temple. “Oh, yeah. ‘Can you hold this for me?’” In one fluid motion, I jab the blade into his leg. He’s a mess of blood, tears, and…I sniff…pee.
“You’re so dead.” It’s the last thing he says. It’s unconvincing as I watch all the hope he has fade from his eyes. A sliver of fight lingers, but the light slowly dims out.
“No, but it looks like you’re about to be.” Ripping the knife free, I stab it into the other leg, feeling the tendons and muscles tearing as the blade glides inside. I lean in close to his ear and whisper, “Remember me when you’re fighting your way through the depths of hell. I will be the monster that plagues your nightmares. You will be begging the devil himself to have mercy on your soul once I’m done with you.” When I pull back, his eyes are closed, and he’s barely breathing. So I sink the knife a little deeper for good measure.