Page 41 of Barbi and the Villain

“What are you?” I whisper.

Only someone with immense power could have done something like that. But it doesn’t make sense. If he is so powerful, how come he’s still chained in this dungeon? How has he not escaped yet?

He stares at me for a few moments, his expression unchanging. It’s dry, emotionless. There is no reaction. No joy at vanquishing an enemy, or at least annoyance at me for getting him set on fire. Nothing.

I lick my lips as I take a step toward him, crawling on my hands and knees.

“Don’t,” he rasps in a rough voice. “Do not move.”

“What?”

He winces. Squeezing his eyes shut, he slumps forward. His mouth opens and closes as his breathing becomes labored. Whereas before his skin had looked almost translucent, now it’s enveloped in a reddish hue. The veins on his neck and forehead protrude as he grinds his teeth. It’s almost as if he’s fighting an invisible force. His body angles forward, his chains rattling. He can barely move, and that serves to intensify his pain.

“Are you all right?” I ask, concerned.

“Do not,” he grits out, “move.”

“But…you’re in pain,” I whimper.

He shoots me a grave look before he lets out an agonizing groan.

Good Lord, what’s happening? Is he suffering from some secondary effects because he killed Ivan?

His body spasms uncontrollably, his muscles straining against his chains. A cacophony of sounds erupts in the air as his chains rattle increasingly louder.

I wet my lips as I drag myself forward, ignoring his decree.

“Please. Tell me how I can help,” I whisper as I reach his side.

The light is already dimming in the room as the fire from Ivan dies out.

I feel my way around his chains, trying to find a way to take them off him since he’s so obviously in pain. But the moment I pull on one, a zap of energy thrusts me back.

“Agh.” I gasp, rubbing at my hand.

His body spasms some more as he moves wildly against his chains, and that’s when I realize that every time he tries to force the chains, currents of energy zap him, too.

“All...your…fault,” he wheezes.

I blink in confusion.

“What? What do you mean?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but his eyes roll to the back of his head. He bites hard on his lower lip. Tension reverberates through him, his veins visible all over his face.

“He…knows. He…saw,” he mumbles incoherently. “Need…out…”

“Please tell me how to help you,” I repeat. Watching him in so much pain causes me physical discomfort.

He doesn’t answer me.

Steps echo down the hallway of the dungeon, together with muffled voices.

Someone’s coming!

He releases a shallow breath, slowly coming out of his trance.

“You want to help?” he asks, craning his neck to look at me. Up close, his eyes are a grayish silver hue—cold, icy.

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