Chapter 30
Callum.
His smug face leering over me was irrefutable proof that it was never a good idea to leave your enemies alive.
I scrambled back to my feet, backing away from him. Cold air festered between us, fogging the small space that separated me from my enemy.
He drew a sharp breath then lunged. It happened faster than I expected, so I had no time to counter it. Steel hands gripped my throat, strangling my cry.
“You think this is a game, little witch? You were wrong to take my generosity for granted, Venus.” He spat the words, spittle hitting my face as he ranted. “I have every intention of winning, and you are an integral part of that.”
I choked, clawing at his hands. I needed to summon even an ounce of magic.
“Always leave one alive. That was the way of our world, yours and mine.”
My nails dug into his flesh as I gagged. Our world. He was from the Nevermore. Another Greenbalm mutant who’d willingly had his magic ripped away.
“One alive to tell the tale. To spin the yarn that inevitably fades from legend into myth.” He slammed me back hard against the tree. Splintering pain sped down my spine as it hit the trunk. “But I really want to kill you.” He smirked. “And I could, right here, right now. But we want to do this the right way. The honorable way. Greenbalm has other plans for you…for now.”
I wiggled my leg free and drove my knee into his groin. The grip on my throat opened, and I slammed both hands against his chest, making him stumble back. My hand fisted at my side as I made a split-second decision between fight or flight. Everything said run, so I did. But before my steps could reach the nearest tree, I was surrounded.
I raised my hand and managed to slice him with three streaks of fire before my legs buckled under me. Callum’s hollers of pain rang out as the darts the men with him shot into me pierced multiple points at once. My throat. My back. My arms. I felt the familiar, sickening numbing seep through me as I sank further to the ground.
Another of his toxic darts bit into my side. Then another. I dropped to my knees, still clinging to consciousness.
“Venus!”
My heart lurched then stilled. Luc.
They’d found him. And they would kill him.
I couldn’t lift my head but there, a few feet from where I lay, was Luc. Bloodied. Bruised. Broken. My heart broke all over again while rage festered in the pit of me.
Callum prowled back and forth, then circled Luc’s body. My eyelids wavered, then fell closed, and I willed a little more magic into my body. Come on. Just once more. No amount of pleading would counter the sedation pulling me under. My eyes fluttered open, though my body remained still. Motionless. Magicless.
I heard the crunch of bones as the barrage of blows struck Luc’s face and body. He would have fought back—he was strong and fierce—but they'd weakened him.
He'd come for me instead of freeing himself. Fool.
I wanted to shut my eyes—it was too much to witness—but I couldn’t. Guilt tore at me, filling me with a poisonous rage. They will pay. They will suffer. And they will die.
It was the gun Callum pointed at Luc's beaten and bloodied face that I saw last before I spilled into oblivion.
****
Memories seized me by the throat, and I gasped back to life. My eyes blinked rapidly as I stared at a blank slate. I was back in their captivity. Only this time, leather straps held my arms and legs in place. I was face down on a narrow bed, a window to the floor beneath me. I twisted my head to the side. White room. White walls. Back in the purgatory that was my prison for so many days.
Next to me stood a silver tray, neatly lined with instruments. Carving instruments. I thrashed back and forth, wildly tugging, trying to break free. It would be useless. I knew this, but it’s instinct to try, to fight, to survive. It was ever present. The door opened in silence.
“Where's Luc?” I spat the garbled words at the man who entered.
He ignored me. I watched him, with his milky lab coat, balding head, and a scar that ran the length of his face from his eye to his chin, as he proceeded to select an instrument, examine it. Set it down and then select another. Finally, he seemed to choose one that met whatever need he had.
I started to scream. “I swear you're all going go to die. I will get out of here, and when I do, you're dead.”
I might have well been screaming at myself. He showed no interest in my threats. No interest in me at all. Only in his very deliberate and careful selection of tools. When the speaker filled the room with a familiar voice, every muscle in my body went rigid. Greenbalm spoke calmly and clearly and chilled every inch of my body.
“You may proceed, Doctor Turner.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid. Breath froze, trapped in my lungs. Those words. Those few small words were the beginning of my end.
The doctor reached to the tray and retrieved a soldering gun. The tremor of the screams that tore from my throat rattled the window as he drove the fiery tip into my flesh.