Page 9 of The King

"If you call that easy, then I would hate…"

“Stop right there. We don’t have time for this song and dance. With every passing second, I’m getting weaker. Every pass of that Wild Magic makes it harder for me to stay lucid. We have to…”

And there it was again – that irritatingly blasted cacophony of squeaks and squishes coming from too many rubber-soled shoes striding across a tile floor to count. With each passing second, it got louder, closer, more grating.

“They’re coming…”

But that was as far as she got before fingers covered with a latex glove picked up her hand while the index finger of the other pushed at the needle already lodged in the underside of her arm. Wasn't it a weird place to put an IV? Every time she'd been forced to endure one, it had been in the back of her hand – and she'd damned sure known it was there.

How had she missed this one? Worse yet, why was some asshole injecting something that smelled worse than Tasmanian Devil dung into it? It could've been because she was higher than a kite, drugged to within an inch of her life, and more worried about escaping what she was quickly coming to think of as Hell On Earth than what was attached to her person.

Sadly, there wasn’t shit she could do about any of it. Even worse, she didn’t have to wait long before a warmth that was anything but natural invaded her limp body. Slithering through her veins, slinking its way to her vital organs, the vicious liquid coated everything in its path with something akin to chewing gum on the bottom of her favorite candy apple red Chuck Taylor Converse tennis shoes.

Hitting her heart like a ton of bricks, the unmistakable burn of silver slowed her pulse to little more than a whisper and almost made her thankful for the machine that was breathing for her. They weren't trying to kill her, just keep her so far under that she couldn’t fight back or thwart their nefarious plans.

Whoever or whatever was holding her captive knew what they were doing. They had concocted the perfect mixture of natural ingredients and then added just the right amount of the only thing her body nor her Magic could counteract - silver.

“Some-something a-about this,”Eden stammered, her whisper echoing as if it was far away and coming from the bottom of a well.“Something about th-this… is… is familiar.”

“Familiar how?”

“I can’t – can’t place… it.”

Pointing all the single-mindedness she could cobble together at the slimy, gelatinous solution creeping through her veins, Ettie let what was left available of her Preternatural senses take over. Slower than molasses coming out of a tree in Vermont in the middle of January, clues registered in her befuddled brain.

“Eden, you have to help. I can’t…”She stopped as the ventilator shoved an exceptionally long burst of air into her lungs. Picking up where her thoughts had left off, she continued,“I can’t do this alone.”Another mechanical heaving of her chest, and she added, "I will not – cannot – let them win.”

Not that she had everletanyone win. Sure, she'd suffered loss. Everyone had. Some were personal, like losing a loved one or a friend. Others were as simple as a game of beach volleyball with her cousins. But never had she simply given up, accepted defeat, and allowed someone to beat her at anything.

And this time was no different. There was absolutely no doubt, if Ettie were to once again fall into the deep hole of oblivion that had claimed three days of her life, she might not be able to climb out again on her own.

“Oh, screw that! You’re right!”Eden snarled, her tone more hollow than before, but her determination the spark of hope they both needed.“There hasn’t been anything created that you and I can’t overcome. And no one can beat us in a fight. Now, what was that you were saying about…?"

"I was saying that the shit they pumped into my veins is familiar."

“Nope, can’t be. I would remember feeling like this. And the smell, oh, my Great Goddess, the smell…”

“That’s what I remember,”Ettie finally declared with certainty. No, she'd never before felt the way she felt at that very moment, but the odor, stenches, and downright noxious fumes her captors were trying to cover with industrial antiseptic and air freshener – now those, she'd had the unpleasant experience of smelling before.

Letting what was available of her usually keen mind follow the path of the foul stench deep into her memories, an image started to emerge in the deep recesses of her psyche. Playing out like a movie trailer, she watched huge, muscular men – Dragon Guardsmen – rigging explosives to metal, weight-bearing supports in what looked like an underground bunker the size of at least two football fields.

"One thousand grams of TNT produces a blast equal to two hundred hand grenades, and those crazy Dragons put one of those loads on every single metal girder in the place,”she repeated what she had been told by the one they called the Mad Bomber.

“Wait!”Eden yipped.“Follow that thought. How do you remember that? Don’t lose that mental trail.”

In a single hiss of the ventilator, Ettie went from watching the explosives being planted to participating in an entirely different action. Running down long, obnoxiously bright, fluorescent-lit corridors with her cousins, the stench of death hung like a Hangman's noose waiting for a neck.

Breathing through her mouth and trying to keep her eyes from watering, her Preternatural senses were flooded with the acrid reek of infection, feces, fear, and pharmaceuticals. In and out of six-foot-by-six-foot cells crammed with Shifters, rusty metal bed frames, and filthy, worn-out mattresses, she, Claire, Olive, Gabby, Tilly, Karleigh, and Delilah made trip after trip down each and every corridor and into every cell, and carried out every victim no matter if they were dead or alive.

The same scents and sounds she and Eden were experiencing at that very moment were also irrevocably etched into her memory. Squeaky shoes, ventilators hissing, and the tang of mineral spirits mixed with Limburger cheese and rancid orange juice were all there.

But wait, there was more. How had Ettie missed it before? It smelled like no other - chlorine meets sweat, body oils, and urine. It was liquid silver, just as sure as her name was Bridgette Morrigan Featherstone, and she was destined to be Mated to the most infuriating, sexiest, most maddeningly gorgeous man in the world.

Snapped back to the task at hand when, in the context of her memory, Gabby yelled, "T-minus ninety seconds. All the cells are empty on our side. What about yours, Ettie?

“Everybody’s out!”She mentally answered.“Now, get your ass outta here too.”

Racing as fast as her feet, her Magic, and Eden could carry her, Ettie climbed out of the bunker they'd all nicknamed Hotel Hell and didn't stop until she was beyond the tree line. Locking eyes with each of her cousins, they all turned towards the underground torture chamber as the air filled with the unmistakable scent of gunfire.

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