Chapter 4
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A wreath of flames, screams piercing the air, and in the middle of it all, my own face, staring back at me, wide eyes full of horror and accusation, asking, always asking, what have you done?
I opened my eyes. I was sitting in a chair, shaking and covered in a layer of sweat. Ropes dug into my wrists and ankles, and my mouth is still stuffed with fabric, tied with rough, scratchy rope. I can't see anything - everything is black. I'm in a dark space. As my eyes adjust to the light, I realise why it's so dark - I'm in the back of church - not my father's church, though. I can see grubby stained-glass windows that haven't been cleaned in years depicting religious images. Our church always kept its windows clean, even at the back where nobody really saw them. How ironic, I thought. Being kidnapped and put into a church. An abandoned church, sure, but still technically a church.
I tried to move, tip over my chair, but nothing happened. The chair was bolted to the floor and the ropes were tight. I wished I knew a breaking spell, or at least that I hadn't slapped Sebastian in the face. I might just have lost my only hope at escape.
"I see you're awake."
I turned. A hulking shape loomed - Mrs Rosewell's heir, I realised. The warlock.
I couldn't talk or move, so I settled for glaring at him. He flicked the lightswitch, and I shut my eyes with a wince, before opening them again slowly and blinking as I adjusted to the lighting once again.
He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, looking for all the world like an ordinary guy who just happened to be my kidnapper.
"Perhaps," he said coolly, "you'll be able to tell me where the Book is."
He ripped the cloth out of my mouth, and I inhaled a deep breath, then gathered up as much spit as I could, and spat in his face. It missed, and he looked unimpressed.
"Unlikely." I croaked out. My mouth felt rough and dry. I was incredibly thirsty. I wondered how long I'd been in here.
He crouched so he was level with me. His beady brown eyes squinted into mine beneath heavyset brows. I could smell his breath from here - what on earth did that man eat, rotten eggs?
"I'd call it very likely, you know." he said in a menacing voice. He rose slowly from his crouch, holding up a large wooden baseball club.
I debated just telling him and avoiding a lot of pain, but something told me that letting anybody else get hold of the book would be a very, very bad idea. So I just glared at him, mustered up what little liquid I had left in my mouth, and spat at him again. It hit him straight in the cheek this time. His facial expression didn't change as he slowly wiped it off.
A moment later, the club connected with my side with a solid thwack, and tears filled my eyes. I clamped my mouth shut so I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me scream. The pain was almost unbearable - I think he'd just cracked a rib.
He hit me again, this time in the face, and my head snapped to the side. The hit left me seeing stars and I could taste blood in my mouth. I wondered why he'd go for the face and not for, say, pulling out my fingernails - it just didn't add up. Cracking a rib was one thing, but hitting somebody over the head is not a very effective form of torture - one more hit and I'd black out and he'd have no answers at all.
Then he reached for his pocket and brought out a gun, and I realised that torture was not the plan here at all - he'd just been warming up.
I didn't say anything. I don't know why I felt it was so important that the warlock not get the book, but somehow I knew it was the most vital thing in the world. So against my basic instincts of self-preservation, I kept my mouth firmly shut.
"Do not mistake me, little girl. The book is mine, you understand? It belongs to me. It is a curse, and it will kill you. So you might as well give it to me."
"Or?" I asked, glaring at him.
"Or I will kill you." He raised the gun to my head, and I found myself staring directly down the barrel. I drew in a sharp, involuntary breath of fear. He lowered it to my knee.
"Do you know what would happen if I shot your knee? It would shatter, producing the most unbearable pain you've ever felt in your life. You would scream, and I wouldn't let you black out. I'm a chief warlock. I can keep you alive and breathing and never let you sleep for years on end, torturing you. The pain would be longer and more unbearable than a one way ticket to the deepest part of Hell."
He flicked the safety off. "Anything to say?"
I would have broken, should have just given in a said something, but I found my mouth glued shut, as if something was overriding my brain's commands. His finger twitched, and I braced myself for the bullet. It didn't come.
I looked up. A small pale hand was holding the warlock's one. With a flick, the warlock's arm broke, and he flew up against the nearest wall and slumped the ground, unmoving. The gun flew back into my rescuer's hand.
"Sebastian." I breathed. The horror I felt at the sight at him was somewhat mitigated by the fact that he had just saved my life.
"I was planning to say something dramatic there, but I guess I just missed my chance." he said with a sigh, looking the gun over thoughtfully.
"Is he dead?" I asked.
"No, just knocked out. He'll be fine, although really if I were you, I'd finish him off while I had the chance. He was ready to kill you, after all. This is a good gun. I'm still not a very good shot, but I think I'll keep it."
"Why are you here?"
He shrugged. "You prayed for me. I didn't actually mean what I said back then, you know."
My lip curled in disgust. "I would never pray for you."
"You wished you didn't slap me so I would be here, to get you out."
"That was the curse thinking, so don't flatter yourself." I snapped. "Get me out."
"You know, I could just leave you here. I would really be less rude." He folded his arms.
"See if I care. You're an abomination." I said bitterly.
"Firstly, I'm hurt, and you're a nasty, rude, condescending brat. Secondly, I'm an abomination that you're going to become yourself if you keep acting like this. If I don't help you, you'll just use magic to solve all of your problems eventually."
"Isn't that what you want?"
"Well, no, I think we'd all rather you be rather less self-hating and rather more mentally stable regarding your life choices when you finally turn so you don't, you know, go crazy, but it's up to you," he said, spreading his hands innocently. "I'm just watching out for you."
"Corrupting me."
"Oh, whatever, Cassie."
"Don't call me Cassie." I said.
"What do you want me to call you?" he asked, rolling his eyes.
At that moment, a man opened the door and pointed a gun at my head.
My ropes came undone in a split second, and simultaneously, with a flick of Sebastian's hand, the man went flying back. His gun shattered into fragments.
"Demon powers are cool right?" he said with a grin. "Trust me, you'll love them."632Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWDBsWPn9Q1
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I got up, feeling another surge of horror as he unfolded his leathery wings. "Wait, what are you doing?"
"Leaving this place."
I shuddered again. The wings were webbed, with black spikes, like bat wings. In harsh fluorescent lighting, his horns, wings and eyes made the demon seem even more disgusting and unholy. I averted my eyes, unable to forget that I could also become that.
"Just get me out of here first." I snarled, following him out into the main church area. Mid-afternoon sunlight filtered in through the dirty windows illuminated wooden pews covered in white sheets and a marble floor with a raised dais where the preacher would have given the Sunday sermon when the church was still active.
He winced as soon as he arrived, the late afternoon sunlight coming in through the window burning his wings.
"Argh!" He pressed his wings flat against his back and kneeled to the ground.
"What is this place?!" he asked, his voice quavering.
I frowned. "You've never been in a church before? Oh, I get it - you can't go into churches, can you?"
He whimpered. "Well, of course not, do you know - nevermind. Just... just... get me out of here."
I laughed, but inside I couldn't truthfully admit to being amused. Part of me was ashamed of myself for acting so coldly to another sentient creature - but the rest of me was scared and angry.
"Not a chance. You can rot in the light," I said, running out. I turned back. He was moaning and rolling around on the floor. His wings shone red with heat. He was a demon, I told myself. He deserved it.
I left him there.
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*****
Eva and Kate were watching tv and eating chips - my chips, of course - when I got back.
"The Book." I demanded. Kate looked at me, surprised.
"But it's cursed? Also, where have you been for the last three and a half hours?"
"Exactly. If you keep it, you'll get cursed, or kidnapped and tortured for it, like I was." I said, ignoring the question about where I'd been.
She looked alarmed, and eventually she handed it over. "Fine. Here's your damn book, if you care so much. What happened to you? You look like a right mess, Cassie, you've got a big bruise on your face."
"I got jumped, knocked out with some magical roofie in a cloth, and stuffed into the boot of a car. I woke up the back of an old church, and got interrogated about the book by Mrs Rosewell's hei. I didn't tell him anything and he was about to shoot me in the knee, but after about a minute Sebastian turned up and knocked him out." I replied casually, sitting on the couch and taking a handful of chips.
"What?! This is serious!" exclaimed Kate in horror.
"He's such a hero." said Eva.
I gaped at Eva. "Are you joking? He's a demon. When we went into the main part of the church, the light burned him. I left him there, told him to rot in the light."
"You did what?" Eva broke in. I ignored her.
"Hopefully it'll get him off my trail for a little while, buy us some time to decide what we're going to do with this thing."
Kat looked at me thoughtfully, and then nodded. "Sounds simple to me. We burn it."632Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzy7BLYquGH
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Thank you for your loyal reading, and once again, (you guessed it!) all comments appreciated. :)632Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiuJKlfAZBa
