Page 35 of A Dance With Devils
So dark in here. Oooh. There’s some light up there, people talking. Men talking. Low voices. Where’s Malachi? He was here. He was. He told me he was here, but not close enough. And then there was another man – big. I know him. I’ve seen him somewhere before. Colourful. Not like all the blacks and whites and nightfall in here with Malachi. Nightfall? Yes. It’s night-time. I can hear the birds, the wolves howling. Warm now, though. Hot. No cold and snow anymore. Devil's night.
“RUN!”
My hand shoots to my mouth, unsure if I said that or not. I should be hiding, not shouting. My head sneaks out the cover, eyes peering around the room to see if anyone’s here. No one is that I can see. It’s quiet and still. No movement. No men. No Malachi. Only a fire roars away in the room. Big fire. So hot. I’m sweating because of it. Dripping wet. I can feel it all over me, creeping into places like insects eating me. Still dark, though. Insects like the dark. They can hide in crevices.
Stay small and hidden.
A laugh escapes me at the thought, as the cover gets flung off my body and I crawl my way towards the fire. No insects on me. Only mouths. Malachi’s mouth. My fingers reach for my lips again, caressing them. His mouth was on mine. It was. It was strong and fierce and consuming. And I could feel his skin on my hands, cold and hard under my touch. And then they were inside me – deep inside me. Fingers twisting and turning, making me moan. But then I had to run. Had to get home and away from all this. He told me that. Run, he said, run. I didn’t want to, though. I wanted to stay, to dwell and linger in the cold with him.
Why is it so hot?
Fire.
My body scurries backwards away from the flames, hands clawing at the dress beginning to stick to me, until I hit a corner and huddle in it. Too hot. Burning. I swat out at the heat, flicking it away from me and trying to fan my face. But it keeps coming, all of it consuming me and making me feel suffocated. Cold. I need cold again. And this fucking dress keeps sticking and restricting me. I want it off, want out of it so I can move again and get to the cool wind and the birds outside.
Fly. I could fly like them. Let the wind take me higher into the squalls and snow. The thought makes me search the skies through the window, watching for small flickers of birds swarming high above in the darkness. They’ll be soaring up there – free and alive. No running for them. No need.
Shoving and scratching out at the material, I eventually fling it off me and lean back on my ass, eyes still searching for my birds. Where are they? I can hear them – out there. Wolves too. They’re hunting. Running like the wind and chasing their prey. They can’t reach the birds, though.
Nothing can up there in the sky.
“Have fun, little thing,” someone says.
Who was that? A man. I look up – left and right. Feet. Legs. Pinstripe suit. I watch a jacket fall to the floor in front of me, the legs moving away. Further, and further. Loud. Echoed on the floor. He’s laughing. Laughing to himself about something. And then – gone.
My hands drop to the floor, knees crawling me towards the door I’m near quickly so I can peer out into the hall. Nothing there again. No men. I’ll find my birds. Join them. Rise above the snow and look down on the wolves as they run. I’ll laugh then, too. I’ll stretch my wings and glide, not caring for the threat beneath me anymore or bad men who want me.
“Where are you going, Ally cat?”
Who was that? Another one.
My eyes chase corners, knees hurrying me along the carpet towards the stone floor I can see in the distant, dark tunnel. I’ll get there and then find doors that lead me up. Up must mean a roof, and roofs mean I can fly with my birds. I quicken, hands and knees dragging me until I force myself upright and begin running again. Run. Faster.
Run, run, run.
Must run faster.
But the faster I run, the more the lights start again. Flashes start, lightning bolts cracking brightness through the tunnel that’s turning and spinning in front of me. My stomach spins with it, eyes trying to keep me balanced as I run.
A sudden pain pulls on the back of my neck, legs lifting from the ground beneath me. I’m flying? No. Not yet. I’m not outside. Too warm still for wings and soaring. Something’s got me. Teeth in my neck. I can feel them biting in, ravaging. My body twists, turns, tries to get away from the jaws gripping me. I can’t escape, though. Too tight. And claws are gripping in, holding me tightly and dragging me somewhere.
Both my arms flail and grab out. Things hit my hands, objects tumbling passed my grip until I manage to hang onto something. It’s thin in my grasp, but it doesn’t stop me wielding it around and around until it hits whatever’s got me. A shout sounds out. Loud and ominous. I don’t care.
Must get away, must run.
The object swings again in my hands, my arms bashing it about. It lands heavily on something, but nothing changes. I’m just hauled and dragged, the grip getting tighter and tighter. And it’s so dark again – pitch black. No lights now. No anything but this grip and this obsidian tunnel.
Something gets pushed in my mouth, a hand smothering me again until I swallow and start thrashing again. More pills. What are they? Why? What’s happening here?
Run, must run away.
“Calm down.” No. No calm. I’m not calming down at all. “This will hurt more if you don’t.”
What?
I kick out again, the thing in my hand flinging and beating at anything it can. It’s ripped from my hold, and pain sears across my face instantly. I tumble from it, all the hold around me suddenly gone, and unexpectedly I’m on the floor again. My head whips up, glare aimed at anything that moves, as I grip my cheek. Nothing does. Not one thing. I’m in a room – a black room. No light anymore. No lightning until – there. Flicks of it. Flicks and flecks striping the air up with slithers of distortion.
“Malachi?” No sound. Not even my birds or wolves. “Where are you?”
