Chapter 21

Everything was drenched in darkness. Was I conscious or unconscious? Alive? Dead? My eyes were open; I think they were open, but all I saw was black.

I opened my mouth, but a coarse hand clapped over it.

“Stay quiet,” he commanded. “Scream, and you're dead.”

His voice hissed in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. A blade he held to my throat pressed deeper, and I closed my mouth. Then hands were behind me, restraining my arms. Another removed the blindfold tied so tight that at first my eyes still couldn't see.

He squeezed my cheeks, forcing my mouth open, then jammed a wad of fabric inside. I gagged, nearly choking. Then they tied a scarf over my mouth, securing it in place and tugging so tight the fabric cut into my cheeks.

Those same gruff hands shoved me forward, and I fell to my knees. Gravel crunched as I hit, biting into my skin. I winced, biting down on the scarf.

My eyes began to focus. Two men. One of them the same man who'd come to Vivienne's house. I winced again at the thought. Vivienne's house. What had he done to it?

I thrashed about, as if there was a chance I could break free. I kept trying until he stepped in front of me.

“Pretty girl like you better do as she's told. No telling how much harder he'll make this if you don't.”

My eyes narrowed and I tried to swear at him. It came out in a muffled garble.

He squatted in front of me, a hand to his ear. “What's that, beautiful? Got something to say to me?” Then he laughed. He leaned in, reaching out a hand to touch my hair.

I lurched forward and slammed my forehead into his.

He swore and stood up, cupping his face to catch the blood seeping from his nose. “You evil little witch,” he cursed, then backhanded me. My head jerked backward, and tears stung my eyes.

“Hey,” the other voice warned. “We're not supposed to hurt her. That wasn't the deal.”

That voice. I know that voice. I twisted, straining to see his face, but he was in the shadows and out of view.

The first guy spit blood on the ground. It splattered across the tiny stones. “Whatever, man. She had it coming. That, and a whole lot more,” he said, fixing me with another glare. "Don’t-cha, beautiful.”

“Listen, let's just tell him she's here. She hasn't done anything to you, so leave her alone,” the other said.

“Not me personally, but I know a few of the people she's hurt. And Neil was a family friend. Remember him?” He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back. “Do ya, witch? He's dead. Because of you.”

I stared at him with an insolent glare, refusing to blink. Refusing to look away. Refusing to show any emotion at all.

“Callum,” the other one shouted. “Knock it off, man.”

There was fear blended in his anger; I could tell by the way his voice quivered a little.

So familiar.

Callum, I assumed, sighed as he let go.

“It’s always the good-looking ones. They never have green skin and warts. But this one’s a hot mess. Trust me, you dodged a bullet, my friend.” Then he walked behind me and slammed his boot into my back.

I fell face-first to the ground. It wasn't until the sound of two sets of boots walking away and a door locked shut behind me that I rolled to my side and tried to sit up. Fear and nerves seared my thoughts.

I've been abducted.

And while I wasn’t entirely sure on the why, I had a pretty good idea of the who. I twisted around to watch for their return, difficult to do without the use of my hands. They might have the upper hand for now, but there wasn't going to be a Dear Diary, Today I died again entry. Not this time. They were messing with the wrong witch.

I fell asleep with my cheek against the gravel. I didn't mean to; I tried to stay awake... vigilant... clued in to my surroundings, but eventually, as day stretched into night, or possibly vice versa, my eyes grew too heavy to stay open.

****

I woke up in a bathtub.

My face was pressed against the cold porcelain, my elbow perched on the faucet.

I bolted upright. My gaze and hands darted to my body. Clothed. I exhaled a small sigh. A slow steady drip fell from the rusted pipe onto my legs. A large dark stain had grown on the white fabric. I was in a white gown. These aren’t my clothes. Where were my clothes? Someone had brought me here, changed me, and left me... in the bath?

Disoriented, I unfolded my legs and climbed out. My muscles were rubbery and stiff, and I slid against the porcelain as I hauled myself over the side. It took a moment to stand, and then another to stumble to the door. It opened into a small room. White. Entirely white. The violent brightness nearly blinded me. My arm flew up over my eyes, shielding them. When I could refocus, I stepped deeper into the space.

Shivering against the cold brilliance, I searched for an escape. One door, which even as I limped toward it, I knew would be locked. I slammed my fist halfheartedly against the surface, once, then twice. I slammed my shoulder into it, which did nothing but cause splintering pain to tear down my arm. Scream, my mind said. I tried that, too. Over and over until my throat was raw and hoarse. Nothing. Finally, I collapsed onto the floor, tucking my knees up under my chin. Whoever had brought me here wasn't going to make it easy for me to escape. For the first time since my return to the human world, I cursed Oberon for taking away the dark parts of my magic. If I'd had both of those things at my disposal this place would be a tomb, and everyone in it dead.

I kept my head down, struggling to remember what had happened. How did I get here? I remembered the man at the door. The explosion. Brigit. The needle. I remembered being bound and gagged and left in the dirt. And then I remembered waking up here. In this room so void of color it was nearly blinding. And—I squinted, lifting my head—I remembered a voice. One I'd heard before. One I should recognize. Think, Venus. Who was it?

When the door opened and Peterson strolled in, a dangerously familiar recklessness filled me.

He strolled over, smug and pompous, just like the last time. His coat drifted open, revealing the handle of a pocketknife tucked inside. Blood thundered in my ears, and I became lost in a blind rage.

I swung at him. My fist caught his temple, then in a whir of motion, I grabbed the switchblade from inside his coat pocket and sliced at his stomach. Shocked, he slumped over, clinging an arm to his wound.

Not enough. I had to strike again. Only I didn’t get the chance. A dart flew at me and pierced my shoulder. I was on my knees before I even had the awareness to duck.

“A shame,” I said fuzzily. “One more and I'd hit your jugular.”

The blackness that pulled me under didn’t last long, because they didn’t wait for the effects to wear off. I woke up strapped to the bed while they dowsed me with a foul-smelling liquid that gushed over my face.

Coughing and sputtering, I gagged, wheezing for breath, and when I thought I might drown, or vomit, they stopped. Still coughing, my eyes squeezed shut, I struggled against the bands that cut into my wrists and ankles.

“Clearly, we underestimated you.” Peterson smiled. His wound had been bandaged, and he looked smugger than before.

“The fact that you dared try this is proof of that,” I said, between fits of coughing. My words were raspy, but their meaning crystal clear.

“Perhaps, now that your little outburst is out of your system, we can talk. You must have questions.”

I arched a brow. “Talk. Really. Do I look like an idiot? I know what you’re about already. What I don’t know is why you think I’ll let you take away the one thing I’m most proud of.”

“You see, it is exactly that sort of thinking your disease inflicts. You actually believe you’re a better person with magic. And you fail to see you’re actually so much less.” He leaned in but was careful not to get too close. “You’ve got the devil inside, Venus,” he said.

So I’ve been told. “And you’re here to perform mass exorcisms, is that it? Baptize the world into a new life, free from evil? Oh wait, that won’t work since it’s humans like you who own that title.”

Peterson gave me a patient nod, which made me want to stab him again and again until I’d stabbed his smugness away. Then he pulled a remote control from his pocket and clicked a button. A small window opened in the wall, too high for me to see through without climbing.

Callum came over and unstrapped me from the bed, then firmly tied my hands together, leaving just enough slack for me to pull myself up to look inside.

“Go on, take a look,” Peterson urged.

I glanced at him, suspicious of everything this man did, then went to investigate. Curiosity and the cat and all.

I hoisted myself up. My fingers dug into the thin ledge. Another white room. And in it three people. One on a couch—a girl, I think—one on the floor, and the third slumped over in a chair. They were sleeping. I knocked on the glass. Nothing. My fist pounded harder. Still no response.

“Probably drugged them, too,” I muttered.

I started to lower myself to the floor, then I paused. The girl's hand—the way it dangled over the side. So limp. So pale. I studied each of them again, more closely. The longer I stared, the more colorless they seemed. Their skin was as white as the room, and the girl’s lips had a bluish tinge.

My heart pounded.

Dead.

They were all dead.

My fingers weakened, my grip slipped, and I crashed to the floor.

Peterson towered over me. “Failed experiments,” he said plainly. As if he were speaking of a science experiment gone wrong and not living, breathing people.

I turned away.

“Oh, come now,” he chastised, offering me a hand to help me to my feet. “Surely a witch with your reputation couldn’t possibly be daunted by a few dead corpses. You've left plenty in your wake.”

I had. But not like this. And not...

I smacked his hand away and rose on my own. “Who were these people?”

“Witches. They came to us willingly, and well—unfortunately, there is some trial and error when it comes to the new methods.”

Trial and error. Like getting a recipe just right? My mind reeled. “And have you perfected it?” I asked, forcing the sick in my stomach to settle.

“I think we have. But we'll know the answer to that soon enough.” He smiled.

I nodded. “And is that what would have become of Lorelei and Adrius, if they had agreed to your offer?”

“We utilize many methods and like to think the results would have been more favorable. But—” He shrugged casually, “—there are no guarantees. Regrettably, that's a risk we've had to be willing to take.”

He waved a hand at the window before pushing the button to close it. “They died for a good cause, which is more than what could be said for how they lived.”

The window disappeared, leaving only the expanse of white wall once again.

But I knew they were there. I could feel their presence. They'd been left there. Bodies void of life, lying at odd angles, for who knows how long. Disposable, like lab rats in their sick science-fiction game.

I felt violently ill. “You are disgusting,” I hollered at him. Spittle flew from my parched lips, hitting his face. “You think magical beings are the monsters? It’s you,” I yelled. “You're the monsters.”

Peterson stepped back and wiped his face with the back of his hand. Then he smiled and adjusted his glasses. “No, Venus,” he said patiently. “We are committed to ridding the world of monsters. And the world will sleep more soundly once we do.”

He left, and Callum followed.

As the door clicked shut behind him, I curled into myself on the floor, and for the second time since my resurrection from the dead, I cried.