19. Chapter 19

19

Chapter 19

Rowan

I come to slowly, my head pounding like I've been hit by a truck. Darkness envelops me, so thick that I can't even see my hand in front of my face.

Where am I? What happened?

The last thing I remember is…the Nocturne Lounge. Darick. Our argument that turned into…something else. My cheeks flush at the memory, but I quickly push it aside.

For God's sake, Rowan, now's not the time!

I try to sit up, my body aching in protest. Cold, rough stone scrapes against my palms as I push myself upright. The air is heavy with the scent of damp earth and mold. A cellar, maybe? Or a cave?

"Hello?" I whisper, my voice hoarse. No response, but as I strain my ears, I catch the sound of soft whimpering nearby. My heart races.

I'm not alone.

"Is anyone there?" I try again, a little louder this time. The whimpering stops abruptly, replaced by a muffled sob that sends gooseflesh rippling over my skin. This isn't surprising, considering it's cold here, and I'm still dressed in my impractical party girl outfit. I've lost my high-heeled ankle boots somewhere along the line, which seems to be the only positive thing about my situation right now. My purse is gone, too, and with it, my cell phone. My abductors would hardly leave me with a connection to the outside world. Because I have no doubt that I've been abducted.

"Please," a weak voice pleads from somewhere to my left. "Help us."

Us? How many people are down here? And who are they? My mind races with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. I open my mouth to ask another question, but a scraping sound from above silences me.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my thundering heart. Magic. I need to use my magic. It's never been reliable before, but Heath helped me hone it, and after my encounters with Darick, I'm stronger than I've ever been. Maybe now, when I need it most, it'll finally come through for me.

Closing my eyes, I focus inward, reaching for that now-familiar spark of power. But…nothing happens. My eyes snap open in panic.

"No, no, no," I growl. I try again, picturing a small flame in my palm – a basic spell I've managed countless times in the past couple of days. Still nothing. Not even a flicker.

Frantically, I run my hands over my body, searching for anything that might be blocking my magic. My fingers brush against cold metal at my wrists and ankles. Chains. Too loose to restrict my movement, but clearly, they're there for a purpose.

Of course. They must be enchanted.

"Dammit!" I curse, yanking at the restraints. They don't budge, and the effort leaves me gasping.

"It won't work," the weak voice from earlier says. "We've all tried. The chains…they dampen our magic."

A wave of despair washes over me. Without my magic, I'm truly helpless. I've always felt like a failure as a witch, but now, when I finally get some real power, it's snatched from me when I really need it.

"There has to be a way," I insist, more to myself than my unseen companion. I close my eyes again, trying to focus. I think of Gran, of Kara, of Mia. I need to be strong for them. I need to find a way out of here.

But no matter how hard I concentrate, that familiar warmth of magic remains frustratingly out of reach. It's like trying to grasp smoke – I can sense it's there, but I can't touch it.

"Freakin' fairy dust!" I shout, slamming my fist against the stone floor. The pain barely registers through my frustration and fear.

I close my eyes, trying to focus through the throbbing pain in my head. What happened? How did I end up here? Fragments of memory flash through my mind, disjointed and hazy.

The Nocturne Lounge. Waiting for my mysterious contact. Then…disaster.

God, you're an idiot, Rowan.

I remember hands grabbing me, a sharp pain in my side as I was pushed through the club and then dragged into a dark hallway. There had been more of them there, waiting for me to walk straight into their very obvious trap. Vampires, definitely. Their cold touch and inhuman strength were unmistakable. But there was something else, something that didn't quite fit.

A scent. Not the usual metallic tang I associate with vampires, but something…earthier. Almost herbal. It reminded me of Gran's garden, but with an acrid undertone that makes my nose wrinkle even in memory.

I strain to remember more details. There was a voice whispering words I couldn't understand. Not any language I recognize. The sound of it made my skin crawl and my head spin. That had been the thing that took me down, ultimately. Some kind of enchantment. I'm sure of it. If only I could pinpoint the source.

Who? Who would be able to do such a thing?

The more I try to remember, the more my head pounds. But one thing's becoming clear – whatever took me, it wasn't just vampires. And that thought terrifies me more than anything else.

"Come on, Rowan," I say to myself, "you got yourself into this mess. Time to figure a way out of it."

First things first: I need to work out where the hell I am.

I squint into the darkness, willing my eyes to adjust. Slowly, shapes begin to emerge from the gloom. The room is larger than I initially thought, with rough stone walls that curve inward to form a domed ceiling. But it's what's on those walls that catches my attention.

Symbols. Dozens of them, etched into the stone in spiraling patterns. They glow faintly in the darkness, pulsing with an eerie, sickly green light. I lean closer, trying to make sense of them. Some look vaguely familiar – distorted versions of protection runes I've seen in Gran's grimoire. Others are completely alien, all harsh angles and jagged lines that hurt my eyes to look at.

"What the hell?" I mutter, tracing one of the symbols with my finger. It tingles unpleasantly, and I jerk my hand back.

These aren't just decorations. They're part of whatever's dampening my magic. I'm certain of it. But who could create something like this? It's beyond any witchcraft I've ever seen. Although to be fair, my experience is limited, considering that until recently, I could barely summon up enough power to boil an egg.

As I scan the room, trying to make sense of it all, a prickling sensation creeps up the back of my neck. I'm being watched. I whip my head around, searching for the source of that unsettling feeling.

That's when I see them. Tiny red lights, blinking steadily in each corner of the room. Cameras. My stomach drops as I process what this means. This isn't some ancient dungeon or hidden cave. It's a modern facility designed to hold us. And by "us," I mean me and whoever else is stuck in here with me because it's clear that I'm not alone.

"Guys," I call out softly to my unseen fellow prisoners. "Anyone listening?"

No answer aside from a scuffing noise from beyond my cell wall. Silence falls again and the weight of it hangs heavily on me.

I've lost all sense of time in this dark, oppressive space. Without windows or any natural light, I can't tell if hours or days have passed since I was left here. My stomach growls, but I can't tell if it's from hunger or anxiety. The disorientation is maddening, making every minute feel like an eternity.

As I shift position, trying to find a more comfortable spot on the cold, hard floor, a wave of dizziness washes over me. My limbs feel heavy, uncooperative. It's more than just being chained up – there's a bone-deep weariness that I can't shake. Did they drug me? Or is this some kind of magical exhaustion?

I try to stand, but my legs buckle beneath me. I crash back to the floor, the chains rattling loudly in the silence.

"Shit," I grunt, frustration and fear battling for dominance in my mind. I need to get out of here, but in this state, I'm not sure I could, even if the opportunity presented itself.

A low, mechanical hum suddenly fills the air, making me freeze. It's coming from somewhere beyond the walls of my prison, rhythmic and unsettling. As I strain to listen, other sounds join in – the whir of machinery, a series of sharp clicks, and metallic rattling.

Oh God. What kind of place is this?

The noises paint a picture of some twisted laboratory or torture chamber, and I'm terrified to think about what might be happening to the other prisoners – or what my captors have planned for me.

I strain my ears, trying to make sense of the unsettling noises beyond my cell. Suddenly, a whisper cuts through the darkness, startling me.

"Hey…new girl. You okay over there?"

The voice is weak but distinctly female. I hesitate, unsure if I should respond.

What if it's a trap?

Yeah…like that's ever stopped me in the past. In any event, the thought of a potential ally is too tempting to ignore.

"I'm here," I whisper back. "Who are you?"

"Doesn't matter," she replies. "Listen, if you want to survive, preserve your strength. Don't struggle against the chains – it's pointless."

Her words leave me reeling. How long has she been here to sound so…defeated? Days? Weeks? Months?

Wait! If she's been here that long, maybe she's encountered others…

"Have you seen others come through?" I ask, my heart racing. "A woman named Mia, maybe?"

There's a long pause, and for a moment, I think she's gone silent. Then:

"Names…they blur. Can't tell anymore. Can't remember…" Her voice trails off, confused and disoriented.

I press further, desperate for any information about my sister. "Please, try to remember. Mia Blackwood; she's my sister. She's been missing for a year."

"A year?" The woman laughs, a hollow sound. "Time…it's meaningless here. Could be days, could be centuries."

Oh God…Mia. What if she's been here all this time? The thought makes me sick. This place is a hellhole.

I lean my head against the wall, closing my eyes. Why did I have to be so damned stupid? If only I'd listened to Gran, to Kara. Hell, even to Darick.

Darick. Does he know I'm missing? Would he even care? Part of me hopes he's looking for me, while another part scoffs at the idea. He's probably already found another witch to feed from.

"Your family," the voice whispers again. "They looking for you?"

"I hope so," I reply, my throat tight. "My sister, Kara, she won't give up. And my Gran…she's powerful. They'll find me."

They have to.

But as the oppressive silence of the cell closes in around me again, doubt creeps in. Will they find me in time? And what about Mia? If she's here too. Will we both be trapped in this nightmare for who knows how long?

I freeze as the sound of approaching footsteps echoes through the darkness. The woman I was talking to falls silent instantly, leaving me alone with my racing heart.

Oh God, someone's coming.

I try to calm my breathing, to appear composed, but panic claws at me. The footsteps grow louder, deliberate and unhurried. Whoever it is, they're in no rush. They know we're not going anywhere.

The sound stops just outside my cell. There's a moment of agonizing silence, then a metallic scrape as a small window in the door slides open. Light spills in, momentarily blinding me after so long in darkness. It's almost unbearably bright when the door swings completely open.

I blink rapidly, trying to grow accustomed to the light. A shadowy figure looms in the doorway, but I can't make out any features.

Then, a voice speaks. A voice that sends ice through my veins.

"Well, well. If it isn't the little witch who can't cast a spell." There's a dry chuckle. "Seems you Blackwoods have a special knack for getting into trouble, huh?"

My breath catches in my throat. I know that voice. I freaking know it! And never in a million years would I have expected to hear it in a place like this.

"No!" I choke out, my mouth going dry in an instant. "You! How could it be you?"