Chapter Twenty-Two

Keep your spell book under war-lock and key.

Eva woke up with a start, not sure exactly when she'd fallen asleep. Somehow, she'd used the fluffy young hellhound as both a pillow and a blanket as he'd wrapped himself around her, likely seeking comfort as well as much needed warmth. The shadows had grown long, and once again only moonbeams sparkled through the small windows. A cursory glance at the pup showed her that he too was now on alert. Hackles rose on the back of his neck, and his eyes glowed as he glowered toward the staircase where surely the threat would emerge.

"It's okay, Baby Boy," she whispered to the pup in an attempt to calm and reassure both of them. She patted his head, allowing her hand to soak in the now warm body.

Doors slammed above them and this time, several sets of feet stomped across the floor overhead. No angry shouting; instead, hushed murmurs whose tones couldn't be deciphered. By the time the upstairs door pushed open, Eva and Baby Boy were on their feet. Standing protectively in front of the puppy, Eva took a wide stance, sure that whatever was coming next didn't bode well for either one or both of them. But they weren't going to get to him without going through her first. Baby Boy, despite his initial aggression, hovered behind her as memories of previous bouts with cold water and beatings apparently filled him.

Despite her will to fight, the standoff ended quickly as three men walked single file down the stairs and spread out evenly across the room.

Gruffly, one of them suggested, "Make it easy on yourself."

Still, as they approached, Eva swung wildly with both arms, trying to keep Baby Boy behind her. The hellhound growled and snarled, just as intent on trying to serve justice to his captors despite his fear.

Two of the men easily restrained Eva, half lifting, half dragging her toward the stairs while the other brought up the back. He served a solid kick to the frantic pup, who hit the wall a few feet away and slid unmoving to the ground.

"Stop!" Eva screamed, fighting tears and pulling harder against the unmovable men. One gave her arm a sharp twist, while the other open handedly struck her in the face. Tears fell for the first time since her capture as they forced her up the narrow wooden stairs, the silence behind her deafening. Her face throbbing and barely able to keep her feet under her, she was dragged up the stairs as if she weighed nothing.

If looks could kill, they would all be dead. Unfortunately, wishing someone to death wasn't a power Eva possessed. Despite being knocked around by the three men, whom she started to suspect were shifters, she refused to go easily. She'd read somewhere that allowing a captor to take you to a second location could be a possible death sentence, so surely another location wouldn't lead to good things, although at this point, Eva wasn't even certain how many different locations they'd taken her to. Surely death was imminent?

Their iron grip gave no room to wiggle free, and kicking them only resulted in hurting her own foot. A solid knee to the groin hadn't worked out either; one had caught her knee so tightly with his hand that she thought he would break it.

The kitchen sat at the top of the basement stairs. A table with four chairs along with a trash can overflowing with fast-food wrappers and pizza boxes piled alongside it were in the otherwise bare room. What must have been a front room with no furniture or rugs was followed by a trip down a narrow, darkened hallway with several closed doors and another stairway at the end.

Despite her pain and fear, Eva continued noting everything she could about her surroundings, but what she was seeing didn't look hopeful. The old place was clean, not spotless, but outside of the trash area, nothing marred the simple, empty rooms. Windows were haphazardly boarded up, enough space between the boards that during the day the occupants probably didn't need to turn on the overhead lights. The dampness didn't cling to the air quite like it did in the basement, but a hint of it still hung in the air along with a sense of foreboding—

or perhaps that was Eva's own terror.

The men pulled her up another set of stairs, not caring if her feet or even her legs hit each step as they dragged her along. In exasperation at the top, one of them wrapped large, bare arms around her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. He grunted at another to grab her legs and despite her frantic, shoeless kicking, she was picked up unceremoniously for the remainder of the journey.

As she wiggled and writhed in a pointless attempt at freedom, they carried her effortlessly through one last door into a room that unlike the others, wasn't at all empty.

While the emptiness and decay might have been disturbing, the items in this room terrified Eva to her core. Nothing good would happen here. The very air sat thick with warning and promises of pain. Wrestling helplessly against the arms that immobilized her while pleading wordlessly not to be taken inside, she was all but ignored. She might have been a piece of furniture as they impassively carried her into the room of horrors.

The smell of rotten eggs filled the air. Newly lit black candles illuminated the room, the thick, dark wax just starting to drip down the sides. Unidentifiable words and symbols covered every inch of the once white or gray walls in black and red smudged writing. Layers upon layers overlapped the symbols at times or retraced old ones. Horrified, Eva prayed that the older, rust-colored symbols hadn't been made in the blood of previous victims and were just faded paint.

Thick, heavy drapes covered the windows from floor to ceiling, and black pentagrams decorated a large portion of the ceiling as well as the floor. The air dripped with magic, and even if Eva hadn't known anything about magic or its existence at all, this room would have terrified her. The primal need to save oneself would have kept anyone and everyone from venturing past the threshold by choice. The room reeked of physical pain, suffering, and death.

In the center of the room sat a block of wood and even before the men pulled her toward it, Eva had the horrible sense that it was for her. It was stained deeply with what was without a doubt blood, the dark stains following the path of the marred grooves cut crudely into and around it before angling toward the floor at the corners. Shiny new shackles attached to the four corners with O rings drilled deeply into the thick wooden platform promised horrors she couldn't even begin to imagine.

As if they could read her panicked mind, and before she could launch another assault, one of the brutes simply picked her up by the throat with one hand and laid her on the table. Meanwhile, the other two made quick work of the shackles and chains, while she simply choked, gasping for breath with feeble struggles against them.

Eyes wide in horror, she lay pinned to the table, forced to stare at the ceiling painted with a thick, black seeping pentagram. Her neck and head were trapped between two boards that the men cranked and tightened into place before placing a strap between the boards and under her chin, making certain her head remained immobilized. Her eyes darted from side to side, barely catching her captors moving back, out of her peripheral vision, to different areas of the room until they were out of her line of sight completely. They stood still, no shuffling. The only sound in the room was Eva's ragged breath that she tried to slow down. Breathing in and out, pause, silence, in and out, straining slightly against the straps and board, causing her to choke again.

Then another set of steps, firm and crisp, echoed through the house. Striking heel, toe, click, click, closer and closer, moving with purpose, not speeding up nor slowing down. The men inside the room shifted slightly, making the floorboards of the old house creak as they bore their weight.

"Here he comes," one whispered, then another and another.

Who comes? Eva wanted to whisper her question but knew it would remain unanswered at best; at worst, someone might strike her again. Her heart rate sped up again as she strained to move her head even a fraction of an inch toward the door, her eyes blurring painfully as she strained to see to her side. The footsteps didn't even pause at the door; heel, toe, heel, toe, crisply into the room but still unhurried.

"Awwweee, here she isssss," a raspy voice stretched out, as if some damage had been inflicted on vocal cords and tongue.

Eva struggled to see who was just out of her eyesight. One more step and she could see the outline. Two more after that and he stood above her, peering down in examination.

Wrinkled and scarred, the gray, sunken man looked down at her, his pale blue eyes strangely devoid of actual color, tongue moving in and out as he perused her face.

Eva nearly screamed when she realized that his tongue was, in fact, split, as he caressed his dry lips with the short, severed pieces. Several scars ran vertically across his throat, leaving three long slashes that suggested someone had perhaps tried to behead him. Well, this explained the raspy vocal cords as well as the hissing sound that created his speech. Tufts of white hair floated wildly around his head, peppered with bare areas covered in dark spots.

"You're hisssss troublemaker," the withered man stated. "Nothhhhing," he spat, and Eva flinched as the flicks of spittle hit her cheek.

The man raised his hand toward her face, and her eyes grew wide as just three fingers and a thumb hovered above her. Wiping the spit around her face with rough, dry hands, he then held up the appendage for her examination. "Sssssacraficcccce for the Massssster," he wheezed out, explaining the missing ring finger. "You will know." A coughing fit cut him off from saying more, or perhaps he'd finished for a moment.

He walked back away from her line of sight, and Eva struggled again to see where he was going or what he was doing. Finally she begged, hating the pleading hitch in her words, "What do you want from me?"

A sharp smack shook her head, banging it deeper into the wood surrounding it, bringing tears to her eyes. The headache that followed reminded her that not too many hours ago she'd suffered a concussion.

"S-s-sorry" she whispered. Would they even give her a chance to give them what they wanted? Why didn't they tell her what they wanted or ask her questions? Surely they would realize quickly that she wasn't who they wanted.

"Silence," the guard who had struck her muttered, as he and the others moved around the table close enough that Eva could catch occasional glimpses of them. A bang near her head caused her to flinch again. A large book had dropped onto the table next to her head, letting off a cloud of dust and an odd leather smell that floated across her face, gagging her as she struggled to catch her breath.

The wizened creature stood over her, alternating licking a finger with his forked tongue, then turning the pages of the book. The smell of old pages and sulfur floated up as each page flipped. Grunting and wheezing, he examined the pages before stopping, then continued his intense, uncomfortable examination of Eva, without touching her.

Thank God for small favors, Eva thought as she shrank away from his beady gaze.

Without a word, he began grasping points of the air above her, twisting and turning invisible strands as he examined them, similar to what Delta had done, although she'd had permission.

"Disssssgusssssting," he hissed and nodded at one of the men near her head, who then grabbed her throat again, prying her mouth open with his other hand.

The old witch bent closer and stuck a finger deep into her throat, prodding around while she choked and gasped for air. Just when Eva started seeing stars, he removed his fingers, casually wiping them on her face, while she sucked air into her screaming lungs.

Eva gave up any pretense of bravery and began crying, softly gasping as she fought to breathe.

"Shhhheeee isssss wrapped in magic," the old man said, revulsion filling his voice. "Thisssss isssss what blocks him." More shuffling and banging outside of Eva's vision. "We mussssst rip it out, for him." Disgust filled his harsh tone as fear reverberated through Eva. "Then he will have hisssss raven, hisssss dark queen."

Realization swept through her as she began putting his words together. This revolting man planned to finish removing the threads surrounding her; the threads Delta had been gently unraveling that still led to exhaustion and pounding headaches for both of them, even using slow, meticulous methods. He planned not just to remove them, but to rip them out for some unknown master to get to Ravyn.

Rough hands once again forced her mouth open, bruising her lips in their roughness, then inserted a piece of wood between her teeth, forcing her jaws open several inches. Her tongue fought for space, and she could taste the blood from her dry lips that had been torn during the intrusion. Shallow, panicked breaths through her nose were causing her head to swim, leaving her precariously light-headed. She must convince herself to slow her breathing and calm down before she passed out took several long seconds. Inhaling and exhaling slowly through her nose, trying to keep the panic from leaving her breathless, was a losing battle.

Ignoring her struggles, the group circled the table, leaving little room between them. The old man muttered in what Eva now could recognize as Latin even if she didn't understand the words. He began slashing viscously through the air. For several minutes nothing happened, and then Eva felt a pain rip through her entire body. As soon as the pain dissipated another wave racked through her, and another. Louder, the man hissed his garbled words, and his hands slashed the air harder and harder as each wave of pain grew more powerful.

Eva's eyes grew even wider, and her mouth moved to scream around the wooden block, but nothing could come out.

With cold, blank eyes, the three men around her held tight to her legs and chest as she thrashed about, unable to exert even a minuscule amount of control over her body. Her bladder quivered as the water Eva had allowed herself earlier ran down her legs in a warm stream of urine. One of the men grunted but tightened his grip on her leg even as the pungent liquid spread. Silent tears ran down her face, and her teeth bit tightly into the wedge in her mouth. Mentally, Eva begged for it to all end as the evil man cut through the magical bounds with no regard to the pain that shattered her down to her soul.

Hours later, perhaps—time no longer had any meaning—Eva no longer cried or even fought as the pain shook and racked her body. Head rolled to the side as much as it could, staring unseeing at the wall of Latin, she barely noticed when the pain stopped. It was the man's raspy, struggled breathing that cut through the haze.

From a distance, she heard him admit, "Ve are clossssse now, but I mussssst resssssst a bit." It sounded as if two of the guards were walking the old man through the door, their footsteps echoing through her mind. The guard left behind pulled her lips back and worked the wedge free from her mouth. He loosened the strap on her neck, and her head immediately fell to the side, unable to stay upright.

Shivering from the now cold puddle she lay in, she whispered, "Water?" not caring if it ended with another punch to the head. Nothing could hurt as bad as she hurt. Not answering, the man held a water bottle to the side of her mouth, letting it slowly drizzle in, removing and then repeating this a few more times.

In the distance through the haze of pain, Eva could hear thudding on a door, reminding her of when the hellhounds had broken through her own back door. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard a pitiful howl followed by more pounding. These were the first sounds outside of the room of pain that she'd heard since she'd entered. Was Baby Boy all right? Sharp barks punctuated the howling and pounding. Surely he was!

After a respite, the men shuffled back in. At least his steps weren't as lively now, Eva thought bitterly, knowing that no matter the pain or discomfort the witch faced, it wasn't nearly as much as she felt.

"Can't we just kill her to destroy the thread? It would be much simpler and faster than this," a guard grumbled.

Yeah. Eva thought bitterly, this has been really rough on you. Never in her life had her body felt so much pain. It continued to pulsate through her from her limbs to the ends of her hair.

"We don't know where the undead queen'sssss thread would go. It could disssssapear, yesssss, but it could choossssse another. Dessssstroy. Then death." The old man's tone indicated that her inevitable death was less than nothing, and her stomach rolled, realizing that there was a good chance no one was coming to save her. If they were coming, wouldn't they be here by now?

"Damn, I wish that mutt would shut up," another guard cursed as the hellhound howled from the basement.

"Yeah, why don't you go down and shut him up, or even chain him back up?"

"Hell no. Even those puppy bites burn. We need to get another tranq spell first. I can't believe you idiots didn't have extras."

The arguments floated around Eva's head as Baby Boy kept up the banging and howling. Then the sound changed slightly; it added a crack to the mix, and then a yip of excitement. Another bang was followed by a longer crack. Eva smiled, imagining the door cracking and falling open for Baby Boy to escape. Maybe he could get back to his family. Run,her mind fleetingly begged of the pup, knowing he couldn't hear her. Save yourself, little one.

"Oh shit, close the door!" The room erupted in panic as the men shouted, boots thumping as they ran toward the door, slamming it closed and causing the room to shake a little. A howl shook the upstairs as the pup celebrated his escape from the confines of the damp dungeon. His heavy paws stomped through the house, ending a moment later outside the door.

"No, go, Baby Boy!" Eva wasn't even sure if she spoke the words aloud. Run, run, run, her mind screamed to the puppy. Then the room reverberated as he slammed against the closed door. Eva shut her eyes as the old witch began hissing his unknown chants and garbled words again. In Eva's mind, it sounded as if the hellhound's barks had multiplied and that sharp barks surrounded the room. but that wasn't possible. He was just one pup. Her mind was cracking; that was it.

Then all hell broke loose, or at least that was what Eva would tell others later after the explosion and chaos settled. Despite the fact that she could only see bits of the room, the simultaneous crashing on both sides of the room and not the door gave Eva the hope that help had arrived via the three large, drape-covered windows. Her eyes darted back and forth as bits of deep green drapes were flung around the room. Lithe figures in black floated in and out of her vision with a flash of silver . . . swords? She could only imagine the guards' surprise when faced with true adversaries and not an injured, chained up woman or a puppy missing his mama. Their feet crunched on the glass as they floundered around the room, unprepared for this sudden entrance.

Shouts, grunts, and thuds surrounded her and frantically, Eva tried to shift her head to see what was happening around her.

The wizened old man stood above her, looking more angry than scared, raising a thick, prehistoric-looking, black-handled knife above her head. "Die," he hissed.

Eva couldn't even close her eyes. If this was it, she wouldn't die with her eyes closed.

But an unearthly howl filled the air, and a glint of silver so quick Eva barely saw it flashed above her. Then in slow motion, the decrepit creature intent on destroying her dropped the knife as the hand holding it flew in a different direction. His face changed quickly from anger, then shock, then pain before he dropped out of her line of sight and a spray of blood clouded her vision, forcing her to close her eyes.

Blinking rapidly to clear out her sight, she saw Oliver's beautiful, bloody face appear above her. With a clank, he dropped his sword to the ground and gripping the chains with both hands, he tore the links apart, finally releasing Eva from her captivity.

With bloody hands, Oliver gently unraveled Eva and helped her into a sitting position. Wrapping his arms around her back and torso, he leaned his head gently against hers as both Eva and her limbs moaned in relief. Breathing in Oliver's essence brought her comfort, and for several steady breaths, she took him in, as her body continued to tremble against him from the trials inflicted upon her. Over. It was over. Unless her mind was shattered, he'd come for her. He hadn't forgotten her.

"I've got you now," he whispered against her face, pressing his lips against her forehead, ignoring the filth that covered her. "I'm so sorry," he chanted over and over as his bloodied hands steadily and carefully removed the blocks and restraints from around her face and then the rest of her body.

Eva wanted to tell him that it was okay. Everything was okay now. Barely recognizable, garbled noises formed in her throat torn raw from hours of screaming as she struggled to form words.

Scooping her up like a child, Oliver turned and looked in rage at the shriveled man who clutched his bloodied stump of an arm against his face, mewing in pain. Lifting his chin in defiance, he opened his mouth.

"Don't," Eva managed to breath out, but Oliver already had a leg pulled back. He kicked the witch across the room into the wall, letting loose another flurry of dust as the creature moaned and slid down the wall in slow motion.

Surrounding Eva were the figures in black who had come through the windows to rescue her, while the guards who had taken part in her torture were now silent, bloody and unmoving on the floor. Eva couldn't even allow herself a minuscule amount of pity for them and if she had energy for even more than existing, she happily would have spat on them. Silently, the group looked at her as the pounding on the door grew louder. Howling somewhere outside had the men shifting around the room, bouncing on the balls of their feet, weapons loosely in hand but upright in preparation.

"Sir, the witches are reporting that the hellhounds have woken but are currently staying outside the house perimeter. We'll need to dispose of them on the way out, to make it through."

One of her saviors inspected the old witch, poking him to ascertain if he still lived.

Surprisingly, in a shocking display of strength, the old creature sat up and pointed his bleeding stub at Eva. "Asssss you scream, he will eat the flesh from your bonesssss and take your ssssstrength and power. The Massssster will devour you and share thisssss world with hisssss Undead Queen."

At his dark foretelling, the pounding on the door began again in earnest as the young hellhound grew frantic at the sound of his torturer's voice. Casually, the soldier flipped his sword and in one swift motion, the evil man's head was removed, rolling along the floor and ending with his open light blue eyes staring at the ceiling.

Eva found herself bubbling out hysterical laughter that cut off sharply as the door split open and Baby Boy jumped into the middle of a room of armed men. With the wiry, black fur on his back raised in anger, puffs of smoke curling from his mouth, and steam sizzling off his body, it was easy to see him as the predator he truly was.

"No," she croaked as they raised their weapons, perhaps to end him where he stood. "Wait!" Frantic to cut them off before they could also decapitate the young pup, she called, "Baby Boy." Struggling against Oliver's hold, her voice scratched out, "Don't hurt him."

Upon hearing her voice, the pup's ears cocked as he took in the room, searching for its source. After laying eyes on her in Oliver's arms, he dropped to his belly, letting out a yip and wiggling his entire body with happiness at finding his fellow captive, ignoring all other threats in the room.

"Help me to him," Eva ordered Oliver, who dropped down to a squat, but kept one arm raised protectively against the beast.