Page 35 of Shifting Fate (Descendants)

Chapter Fifteen

Captured

Fire pulsed through the city, scorching every last entity in its wake. Metal framework of once tall buildings screeched as it twisted and fell, burning, and there was a roar of utter conflagration, but no screams could be heard. Because the people were gone. In fire. Flames.

An inferno.

My bottom was cold. I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but something was wrong. Not ready to come out of sleep, I tugged at my arms, but they wouldn’t cooperate. They were numb, achy. My head was pounding. I bat my eyes open and my vision swam. There were blurry outlines on a dark wall opposite me, but they didn’t make sense. None of it belonged here. And then the binds cutting into my wrists registered and I remembered. I’d been captured.

The room was empty aside from a metal frame chair, a narrow stool, and some shapeless material that hung from a hook on the wall across from me. My bare feet slid along a dirty floor as I tried to pull them under me, and I realized I was tied at the waist as well. My fingers felt blindly behind my back to find the hooks that were keeping me secured to the wall. Metal cable ran through them to the binds that constricted my wrists and waist, keeping me from moving more than an inch or so in any direction.

Now that I’d struggled against them, my wrists hurt worse than anything, but I knew I had taken a pretty good hit to my head and my right shoulder. My hip was a little sore, too, and my lip was puffy and raw where I’d taken a backhand from the second attacker. I wasn’t sure how bad the injuries had been to begin with, or I might have had some idea of how long I’d been tied there.

The entire space was maybe ten by twelve, and it was dark. The only light came from thin vents lining the top of one wall. I had no notion what would happen now, if Morgan’s directive was to capture me only or if other instructions had followed. If it had been the sway, whoever had put me here might not have been given further orders, and I might sit here until I starved.

But I didn’t hope to get that lucky. Those had been Morgan’s men, not just random humans. They had been trained as his army, and they would understand that keeping me alive was paramount. I was their prophet, born of the serpent. A daughter of great power, eyes of the sea.

I pressed my eyes closed tight against the thought. They’d had no idea. None of us had. It wasn’t a lie exactly—the sea did allude to the fates, after all, and I could see what was to come—but they’d believed we were their salvation, their return to complete power. A power they’d apparently never had. A power that they’d been allowed to use,to play with, beneath the watchful eye of a shadow.

To them, the serpent symbolized a guardian. And Iwastheir guardian. But the words didn’t stop there. Assassin. Dragon Slayer.

Shadow.

The door swung open and I dropped my head, pretending to sleep. Footsteps moved across the dusty floor, crunching abandoned scraps of trash on the concrete. We were in another warehouse. A factory. Sounds echoed outside the room. There were too many of them, something wasn’t right. A boot kicked against my hip ... the sore one. I let my body flop with the shove, head hanging lifelessly forward.

“I told you,” said one of the voices.

“Shut up,” the man nearest me replied. “You know what Morgan said.”

“I don’t care what he thinks,” the first muttered, “there’s no way she’s going to wake up soon. We gave her twice the lethal dose.”

The man beside me shifted; I could feel his breath on my plaster-dusted skin. He must have been kneeling to get a closer look. “I wouldn’t let him hear you talking like that if you value your life,” he said, putting a finger under my chin to raise my face. It took everything I had not to flinch. “Besides, she’s not like the others. This one’s strong.”

He pushed the hair back from my face and lifted my eyelid with a thumb.

I tried to stay unfocused, I did. But when he blew a puff of air into my eye, my gaze automatically fixed on his.

He smiled. “Well, there she is. Aren’t we happy to see you.” He had dark eyes, well-cut black hair, and a strong, square jaw. It was a face I would remember, but I couldn’t place him from any of Brendan’s files. He called over his shoulder, “Find some water, we’ll get her cleaned up.”

“You’re not supposed to be here alone,” the other man said from behind him.

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t take his hand from beneath my chin, didn’t turn from my gaze. “One more and you’re meat, Fisher.”

“Sir.” He turned from the room without another pause. He’d left the door open, and I could hear commotion at the news that I was awake.

“What are you going to do to me?” I asked, my voice rough and cracked.

He let the pressure off my chin, brushing the rest of my hair back. “Not to worry. It won’t be long.”

The second man reappeared, bringing a damp cloth and a basin of water. He stayed several paces back from me, placing the basin on the floor and scooting it forward with the toe of his boot.

“That will be all,” the one near me said.

“I’m not leaving,” the other replied. The man in front of me turned, and the other added, “Sir.”

My eyes flicked between the two, the dark-haired man must have been a leader of sorts, but it was more than mere rank. His presence was potent.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

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