Chapter 41

Sarabella POV

Time seemed like it was suspended. I tried to keep track of it, but my sense of time was long gone in that dark room with no indication of any sort to tell how high or how low was the sun in the sky. How could she put up with it? The wolfbane was so potent, I could barely keep together enough to stay awake. They kept me tied to that operation table, by the wrists and the ankles. I haven’t gone out of this room for a walk, even for a peek. All I knew of this place was the feeling of the straps around my limbs, the density of the air, heavy and foul, and the impenetrability of the darkness.

If I could’ve come up with a distraction, but even lifting the veil that was weighing on my mind was too hard. Every now and then, someone would come in, I would feel a pinch in my arm, fire in my veins before I would fall in a maze of daze again.

Sometimes, I would hear voices, but wouldn’t grasp a word they uttered. Until, one particular day.

That day, I felt weak after the visit of my keeper. The veil wasn’t there as much, my thoughts were clearer, and for a while, I wished I could get my wolfsbane dose, to go back into that fog that would keep me from trying to understand or feel the pain.

I wasn’t healing. There was no real torture other than the on going sequestration and the occasional drawing bloods or the injections. Even without a wolf, I always had been gifted with some werewolf features but to this point, it was being a common mortal, a human. No healing was effective, I wasn’t draining the poison out of my system properly. And I was now getting addicted.

After the first few days of the withdrawal of my daily poke, my usual self was slowly drifting back to its rightful place, the right pieces were puzzling in the right place finally. It was more difficult to bear the pain, but I didn’t mutter a word of complaint. Not a sound would leave my throat, nor get past my lips. I was a numb, mute puppet. The thought of Clemencia getting through this crossed my mind at some point, made me shiver, a single and freezing wave rolled over me before the thought left and I was empty again.

“Look who’s waking up.” I heard, in a not-so-far distance, from a voice I knew should be recognizable. But I didn’t. “For a worthless, useless, wolfless wench, you did prove your worth after all.”

A pale figure appeared in my field of view, in a dim light I didn’t know could be turned on. The grey and wrinkled skin, the baggy under eyes, and the snarky grin rang an alarm in my subconscious that I couldn’t understand. They seemed familiar and yet, I couldn’t tell.

In his hand, between his thumb and index, was dangling under my nose a flask, a transparent tub, filled almost to the half of his length with a golden, slightly tinted red, liquid. There was an odd halo coming from it, as if it had the property of broadcasting light. All I could do was stare at it, as intensely as a fly would toward a light bulb.

“Honestly, I thought it would be your sister. Good play there, trying to hide your identity.” The old man let out a laugh, a cold laugh, deprived of warmth and humor. It was frightening. “I bet you don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

He stood closer, and with one hand, grabbed my chin, forcing me to face him, while I tried my best to look the other way. With the other, he aimed a tool in front of my eyes, blinding me for a couple of seconds.

“Well, I guess I can tell you. In your state, it could go many ways. Let’s see which scenario will unfold, shall we? Either you forget everything the moment I step out of the room, or you remember it partially, by shredded information, like a dream decomposing itself in the morning, or you will remember it so clearly it will be disturbing. My dear, have you ever heard of the Species’ War?”

I nodded. It was common knowledge in the werewolves’s community. As a young pup, I learned by heart and forever up to this day the details our school would provide us to put the fertilized seed in our mind that we are the dominant species.

“You see, it is no luck, or fate that I end up in this position. My bloodline is the oldest known to be still living and breathing thanks to me. My kids are developing well and will also ensure that our bloodline never dies.” The shiver that shook me got my body’s temperature lower in a fraction of second, drying up my core at the idea of any female accepting to reproduce with that man. “That position, that power of ruling over all the Supernatural species, being from the strongest of them all and ruling over the werewolves too, that is just a rightful due for what my family has done and so did I. I am entitled to that title and will never let anyone stand in my way. Not even you, child of the prophecy.”

I gulped down, uneasy. He was babbling but the intentions behind his every word were so intense, so full of baggage. I could picture what he did so well, at some point it felt like I was there. Different times, different eras, different faces. There were different means every time. There was always a woman. Except in the brief flash of a battlefield.

My head started pounding so hard, I grunt and whine but to no avail. He didn’t budge from his monologue, and kept pacing around me, like a vulture.

“Every time. I can find you every, single, time. Even before the technology period, I managed to find them all. And after the annihilation of the Witches, it was even easier without them hiding you all. Well, annihilation is an exaggeration, considering we kept 2 alive. One you know very well. That was bold enough to escape from our grasp, only that’s what she thought, and she never really was out of it, appearances are deceptive. It is only a little, tiny stain on our plan, but nothing we can’t manage. And now, as we speak, she is running back here, tail between legs, even after being mated and marked, with her so-called mate.”

The disgust in his voice was unfiltered, but rolled down my back like water on a duck’s plumage. I was focusing, trying to remember the one I was supposed to know so well.

All my memories were a dark and obscure blur. I wasn’t able to enlighten any of the shadow silhouettes that were roaming in the garden of my memories. Every time I felt I was getting close to remembering a face or a name, surfing on the lingering feelings and sensation attached to the shade, a strike of pain would zap my brain, making it impossible to make progress.

I opened my mouth, to ask just anything. Words were in a traffic jam up my throat, questions were piling up to the front of my head, but a voice to lead them on was nowhere to be found. I wrestled against my shackle, but again, in vain.

“Pathetic creature. You are the most unworthy of any of the vessels I’ve seen. So weak. Such a disgrace.” He spat on the ground, at my feet. A whimper was all I could deliver. “Back to the Species’ War. I want you to know, though I doubt that to this point you can remember anything or anyone, the fate that awaits your friends.”

He stopped behind me, grazing my shoulder with one of his bony hands.

“It was a well organized war. To kill them all, so werewolves were the only last standing. What was the point of sharing this world with others that could endanger our supremacy. None was worth the risks. It was brilliant. Magnificent. I was right. None of the vampires, or other shifters, or half gods, and other creatures was worth living since they could’ve all seen it coming but they didn’t. We used each group to turn against the other. I was not about to create some casualties for our side of course. The feud deepened by itself and I let it go, following its own course. The only problem was the Witches. You see, these biiches were always helping other kinds, solving fights and mending the wounds in the relationships. So we had to take them upfront, thus the war began. They were hard opponents. But we were better. We are better. During one of my good days, I had managed to kill a bunch and take a few to run some tests on, I came across a woman. A pregnant woman. It was a rare occurrence for a Witch to get pregnant. They had a long list of criterias to make it happen, hence the ease to decrease their breathing number. So, I took her in. It was a good day, and she was a peculiar case.”

His voice went low, as if the regrets of his actions were so heavy he still couldn’t keep his head high.

“She was a snake. That wench managed to get away, and gave birth to her dirty little girl. She tried to secure her with a safe couple she found in a far away village, but we tracked her down. No, not to kill her. She did die eventually, but not on the spot it would have been such a waste. And the baby, we let it grow, under high supervision, of course, due to the nature of its kind. And now, we’re going to take it right where it belongs.”

Fear washed over me without me having anything to do with this story. A big tear rolled down my cheek, without me knowing who it was for.

“And here she comes. Right into the trap.”

His voice faded in the fog suddenly engulfing me, following the stingy pinch of the needle piercing the skin of my neck.