Page 10 of Hellfire to Come
I didn’t know what they did to me, not exactly. I only knew that things weren’t right. That the air buzzed too loud when they entered the room. That sometimes, I felt like I was glowing beneath my skin, lit up like a candle from the inside, and it hurt. Dear Universe, it hurts. But worse than the pain was not knowing if my friends were safe.
Brooklyn and Dominic mostly. I couldn’t imagine a world without them, although I had to admit I cared a bit too much for the others, as well. The demons included, even though I barely knew them. Having their magic pass through me made me understand them better on some molecular level. Like I wasn’t weird enough before all this shit.
Not for the first time, I wondered if there was some merit to my father’s crazy ramblings about aliens and conspiracies. What if supernatural creatures did things to him that he couldn’t explain so he created this world of extraterrestrial beings following him around? His poor mind could’ve been messed with because of me.
Because of whatever I was.
Isn’t it a damn fate years later after his death to meet the most wonderful people, a new chance at having a family and a friend everyone wishes for but rarely gets, only for bastards to want to use and control us. To destroy us on a soul level.
If they’d hurt my family to make me do whatever they wanted, I would never forgive myself.
Especially Brooklyn.
She had been the anchor in my storm, the one person who didn’t flinch when the darkness crept in behind my eyes or when I did the most ridiculous and insane things. When I was slowly changing and turning into who knows what. Brooklyn stood firm. She saw something in me. Something I wasn’t even sure existed.
Now I held onto that thought like it was life itself.
Like it was blood.
Because if she was still out there, then I had to survive until she found me.
And she will find me, I said firmly to myself.
I would survive.
Even if I had to pretend to be broken.
Even if I had to smile at my captors like I didn’t dream of ripping their spines out.
Even if I had to become something they didn’t expect.
They thought they had me.
But I’ve played the game of pretend before.
And this time, I wasn’t playing to protect myself and blend in.
No.
I was playing for Brooklyn. For Dominic.
And all the gods and the universe help anyone who tried to stop me.
I didn’t hear any footsteps or anyone nearing the dark, damp room where I was kept. The walls here had a way of swallowing sound, like everything sacred had been devoured long ago.
But I felt it.
That shift in the air.
A ripple of something slick and venomous sliding into the room.
I didn’t move. Didn’t even lift my head. I stayed curled against the wall like I hadn’t noticed.
“Alice,” came the voice, silken, amused, and serpentine. “That is your name, is it not?” when I didn’t answer or acknowledge his presence he continued. “Still playing martyr for those who abandoned you without a second glance?”
I almost laughed. Still playing, he said. Like my pain was an act. Like my strength was theater. I can feel the fucker Frederic leering at me from a few feet away. The last rat clinging to the throne of a sinking ship.
He moved closer, each step deliberate, calculated. The scent of cinnamon and blood enveloped him, a sickly sweetness masking decay. His power pressed down on me, an unseen hand gripping my throat, squeezing my lungs.
