5. Chapter 5

5

Chapter 5

Mia

I wake with a start, my head pounding. The world spins as I try to sit up, and I have to close my eyes against a wave of nausea.

What happened? Where am I?

My fingers stray over the surface of the rough fabric beneath me, a thin blanket. This is clearly not my room, not my bed.

Slowly, I open my eyes again. The room comes into focus – small, bare, with gray walls. No windows. A single door, heavy-looking and probably locked. Against the wall is a small table with a jug and a cup on top of it. As my vision clears, I notice strange markings etched into the walls. Runes. My heart races as I recognize some of them – symbols of containment, nullification.

I push myself up, ignoring the protest of sore muscles. My clothes are dirty and torn. There's dried blood on my sleeve. The events of last night come rushing back – the ambush, the fight. Heath's betrayal.

Anger surges through me, and I instinctively reach for my magic.

Nothing.

Where there should be a wellspring of power, there's only emptiness. I try again, concentrating harder. Still nothing. Panic claws at my throat.

"Calm down," I mutter to myself.

Swinging my legs off the bed, my feet hit bare concrete, and it occurs to me that my sneakers are missing. So is the belt I was wearing on my jeans. I think back to things I've heard about prison inmates harming themselves. Did they think I'd hang myself with my freaking shoelaces?

I stand on shaky legs and approach the nearest wall, running my fingers over the runes. They're carved deep into the stone, pulsing faintly with an eerie blue light. No wonder my magic is gone – this entire room is designed to suppress it.

I take a deep breath, trying to center myself. There has to be a way out of this, for crying out loud. I've handled worse…haven't I?

But as I look around the bare cell, a shudder ripples through me. Without my magic, I feel small. Vulnerable. And for the first time in a long time, truly afraid.

I close my eyes, trying to calm my racing thoughts. There has to be a way to contact my family. Even if my magic is suppressed, our connection should still be there, right? I've always been able to sense them, no matter where I am.

I focus on Gran first, picturing her warm smile and the comforting scent of her herbal teas. I reach out with my mind, searching for that familiar presence.

Gran! Can you hear me? Gran!

Nothing. It's like hitting an invisible wall, cold and unyielding.

Frustrated, I try again, this time thinking of Kara. I imagine her laughing, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Again, I push my thoughts outward, straining to feel even the faintest hint of her energy.

Kara, I need help!

But there's only emptiness.

My heart races as panic starts to set in. I try Mom and Dad next, picturing them in our kitchen, working on plans for their next event. I pour all my concentration into finding that thread of connection, but it's like grasping at smoke.

Finally, desperately, I focus on Rowan. Despite our recent argument, surely our sisterly bond would be strong enough to break through whatever's blocking me? I think of her nervous smile, the way she fidgets with her glasses when she's anxious. I push harder than before, willing my thoughts to reach her.

But it's useless. The wall remains, impenetrable and cold.

Tears of frustration sting my eyes. I've never felt so alone, so cut off from everything and everyone I love. The realization hits me hard – I'm truly on my own here.

I stare at the jug on the table, anger and frustration boiling over. Without thinking, I grab it and hurl it against the wall. The crash is satisfying, the shatter of ceramic echoing in the small room.

Water pools on the floor, mingling with the broken pieces. I approach cautiously, bare feet avoiding the shards. One piece catches my eye – larger and sharper than the rest. I pick it up, turning it over in my hand.

A bitter laugh escapes me. They took my belt, my shoes, anything I could use to harm myself. Yet here I am, holding a makeshift weapon they practically created for me.

The edge glints in the dim light. I clutch it tighter, feeling it bite into my palm. Pain flares, sharp and immediate. I open my hand to see blood welling up, bright red against my skin.

A forbidden thought creeps in. Blood magic. It's taboo, dangerous…but I'm desperate.

I hesitate, then dip my finger into the small pool of blood. The metallic scent fills my nostrils as I trace a rune on my arm, one for unlocking, for freedom. I close my eyes, focusing all my energy on the spell.

" Libertas ," I whisper, pouring every ounce of will into the word.

Nothing happens. The rune remains lifeless, just blood on skin. No surge of power, no rush of magic.

Dropping to my knees, I start scrawling patterns on the floor in blood, the most powerful runes I can think of. All the while, I chant under my breath. Words I'd been told from childhood that I should never utter out loud.

Still nothing.

I slump against the wall, defeated. Even blood magic is beyond my reach here.

No! You can't let this defeat you!

I straighten and face the door. "Hello? Is anyone there?" I yell. "Let me out of here!" I hit the door with my fist, my temper flaring. "You can't keep me here! Do you have any idea who I am?" I pummel the door, ignoring the pain reverberating up my arm. "I'm Mia Blackwood, and when my family finds out about this, you'll wish you'd never been born!"

The silence that follows my outburst is deafening. No footsteps, no voices, not even the scurrying of rats. Just that all-pervasive…nothing.

"Cowards!" I shout, my throat burning. "Face me, you bastards!"

I kick the door in frustration, accomplishing nothing but a throbbing toe. Slumping against the cold metal, I slide to the floor, chest heaving.

"Please," I whisper, hating how weak I sound. "Someone…anyone…"

As my voice trails off, something shifts. It's subtle at first, a faint tickle at the edge of my senses. I sit up straighter, every nerve on high alert. The feeling grows stronger, like static electricity dancing across my skin.

I freeze, every muscle tensing as an eerie sensation washes over me. Despite the emptiness of the room, I can't shake the feeling of being watched. My witch's intuition, honed through years of training, screams at me to pay attention.

Slowly, I push myself to my feet. My eyes sweep the room, taking in every detail with renewed focus. My head is still foggy, making it hard to distinguish what's real from what's imagined. But there's something…wrong.

I scan the rune-inscribed walls, searching for any hint of a hidden opening or magical concealment. The iron door remains as impenetrable as ever. The bunk where I woke up reveals no secrets.

And then I see it.

My eyes narrow. There, nestled in a shadowy corner near the ceiling, is a small, blinking red light. Modern. Electronic.

A camera.

My heart races as the implications sink in. This isn't just a prison; it's an observation room. Someone is watching my every move, studying me like a lab rat in a cage.

Anger flares hot in my chest, momentarily drowning out the fear. I glare directly at the camera, channeling all my fury into that gaze.

"I see you," I snarl, my voice low and dangerous. "And when I get out of here – and I will get out – you'll regret ever laying eyes on me."

The red light blinks impassively, but I swear I can feel a shift in the air. Whoever's on the other end of that feed knows I've spotted their little spy device.

Good. Let them squirm.

I turn away from the camera, my mind racing. The presence of modern technology changes things. It means my captors aren't some ancient, magically-isolated cult. They have access to the outside world, to current resources. That could work in my favor…or make escape even more difficult.

I close my eyes, trying to piece together the fragments of memory that flit through my mind like frightened birds. The abduction…it's there, just out of reach. I remember flashes – the acrid scent of fear, a cold hand clamping over my mouth. Vampires. Their pale faces etched with cruel determination.

And Heath.

The bitter taste of betrayal makes my lip curl. He's responsible on some level. But why?

Something else nags at me, more pressing than the details of my capture. My magic. Its absence feels like a gaping wound, a vital part of myself ripped away. This isn't just about keeping me powerless – it's deliberate, calculated.

"They didn't just take me. They took my magic."

But how?

My mind races, theories forming and dissolving rapid-fire. Vampires have always coveted witch blood, but this feels different. More targeted. Personal, even.

Is it about my family? The Blackwoods have always been powerful, our bloodline stretching back centuries. But if that were the case, why me specifically? Why not Kara, with her raw talent, or Rowan, despite her struggles?

Maybe it's not about power at all. Could it be knowledge they're after? Some secret only I possess? I wrack my brain, trying to recall anything unusual I might have learned recently. Nothing stands out.

Or perhaps… What if I'm bait? A lure to draw out the rest of my family?

I shake my head, frustrated. Each theory feels plausible, yet none quite fit. There's a piece missing, a crucial detail I can't see.

How the hell did they take my magic?

It had to have been Heath. It's the only way. But I can't think of any ways a witch can sap the power of another.

Unless he's using the dark arts. Gooseflesh ripples over my skin.

Come on, Mia. You just used blood magic yourself.

But I was desperate… Desperate to get out.

I pace the small confines of my cell, my mind racing through potential escape scenarios. The camera's presence complicates things, but it might also be an opportunity.

I consider the possibility of faking illness or injury. It might draw someone in, give me a chance to overpower them or at least get a look at what's beyond that door.

Perhaps I could—

A sudden scraping sound from the direction of the door jolts me from my thoughts. I pivot to face it, my heart pounding as I stare at the heavy iron barrier.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever – or whoever – might be on the other side of that door.

The door creaks open with agonizing slowness, each inch revealing more of the dimly lit corridor beyond. My muscles tense, ready to spring into action.

A figure steps into the doorway, backlit by flickering torchlight. Tall, broad-shouldered, unmistakably male. My breath catches in my throat as I recognize the telltale pallor of vampire skin.

He takes a step forward, and I instinctively take a step back. My heart hammers so loudly I'm sure he can hear it. Probably smell my fear, too, damn him.

"Who-who are you?" I stutter, wishing I sounded less afraid. "Why have you brought me here?"

"Hello, witch," a voice like molten chocolate ripples over my skin. "Do exactly as I say, and we're going to get along just fine."