Page 106 of Prodigal Son

While The Elders disapproved of what Cain had done, they found it a good opportunity to study such a biological change. Cybil had transitioned like the others, and The Elders wanted to understand what her limits were, her strengths, and her weaknesses.

He sentenced her to a life of captivity with the autonomy of a lab rat. Several times, while watching her pace in agitation and growl like a caged predator, Cain had questioned if it would be more merciful to put her down.

So long as Cybil served a purpose, The Elders would only reprimand him for violating the laws. As it were, they saw value in her circumstances. She was a vessel of information they planned to observe and dissect over time. If he went against them, however, his punishment would carry the weight of all his crimes. He could face possible exile and lose his family, lose Anna and any chance of seeing Cybil again. In order to protect her, he bided his time and watched over her closely, making sure no one overstepped. His presence ensured Cybil received kind treatment, regardless of how she treated others.

He was powerless among The Elders. His tolerance for their decisions and reliance on their mercy once again reminded him how ineffectual matters of the heart were. Love had been the root cause of all his sorrow and he only wanted the pain to go away.

Cybil would never see the light of day so long as she posed a risk to others. If she had the strength to injure a full-grown male of their kind, she was not safe to be around the females or young. Then there was the extreme risk of her escaping and reaching the human population. Cain’s gut hollowed. As her sire, he was responsible for her actions and crimes.

The bars jostled as Cybil threw her body against the iron and snarled. Her flat eyes pooled with red and reflected the flickering light. She still did not speak, but vocalized in other ways, expressing her desires in throaty growls and snarled hisses.

When she slept, it was a restless slumber. She’d toss and turn and caterwaul like a feline in heat. Sometimes she’d whimper as if frightened, but she was safe in her prison cell. He had to keep telling himself that.

As she glared at him now, he felt her dislike for this infernal place and saw the accusation in her eyes. She was calmer with him than the others, so maybe part of her still recognized him as a friend, but there was nothing friendly about the way she bared her teeth or hissed at him.

The bars rattled again and the stench of negligence teased his nose. She’d been too volatile to bathe and showed no willingness in conducting the act alone. Not incapable, but disinterested. As it were, grime crusted her nail beds and caked in the fine creases of her knuckles. Sometimes she’d lick her fingers and purr at the traces of dried blood.

Feeding her was a challenge, on account of her heaving any offerings at the wall and using the dishes as weapons. She preferred blood to all other nutrition. Her hunger existed, but her tastes had changed and she had no interest in other food sources at this time.

Her already small body slimmed down to lean muscle, gaunt, angular cheeks, and sunken in eyes. Her flesh clung to the bone and the tattered remains of her clothing only partially covered her from view.

Cybil’s head cocked and she stilled, her focus on some sort of intruder. She sprung from the bars, her speed incredible and her impact into the stone wall enough to shake free the dust that filled the tiny pores. She’d caught something. A cricket or spider perhaps. Her body was running on instinct now and she was hungry. The trespassing insect was gone before Cain could fully see what it was.

“If you stopped hurling your cups, you could have something a little more substantial in your belly.”

She growled and kicked her feet over the dirt floor. The memory of her sweetness faded every day she watched him with such disapproval and blame, such endless accusation. And he deserved every second of it.

Footsteps drew closer and he forcefully blanked his face and mind of all emotion. Cybil stood and prowled toward the bars, curious and guarded. She paced like a caged animal, making frenzied gesticulations as she watched the shadowed corridor with a blaming, demonic stare.

Cain wanted to make promises he couldn’t keep. He wanted to vow to see her healed by some unknown miracle. He wanted to get her out of that cavity of a cell, but he didn’t have the authority. And any false promise could be viewed as intent to disobey his elders and result in punishment.

Too many powerful immortal males lingered at the safe house and he never knew who was listening. Even emotions put him at risk for questioning. He had to protect his thoughts at all times.

David finally appeared with a tray. Dispassionately, Cain noted the cup of blood and the syringe. They were going to attempt to tranquilize her again.

The Elders wanted samples of her blood, and the last time they tried, she hadn’t allowed the intrusion, clawing and biting with feral self-preservation that left a male with a detached retina and another in need of a transfusion. Despite the incredible power of The Elders, Cybil’s mind was too broken to penetrate. Compulsion could not work on her at this point.

“Brother Hartzler.”

“Good evening, David.”

More footsteps followed and Cain took that as his cue to leave but hesitated. He glanced at the cell, his chest aching for any lingering sense of innocence. Several strong-bodied males appeared.

Cybil watched the newcomers with uncertainty. Her eyes dilated, and she panted as the group of males crowded the bars of her cell. Cain sensed her fear and wished he could offer words of comfort, but he wasn’t sure how much she would comprehend at this point. Shame on him for not having the stomach to watch.

David withdrew a key and a small vial. Cain hesitated. He couldn’t leave her.

The metal key clicked into the ancient lock. She shuffled backwards, her shoulders pressing into the wall. Her hair twisted in uncombed snarls around her pale face as she growled, low and threatening.

The men entered, and she went ballistic, hissing and clawing, screeching and wailing. They moved quickly, overpowering her and pinning her to the tattered mattress on the floor. She bared her teeth and screeched, clawing and hissing like a feral animal trapped and suffering.

Her shredded clothing provided no modesty in the tussle. The knot of blonde hair worked as a handle to subdue her, and the moment David grabbed it, her fangs flashed like ivory tusks and she clawed his face like a cornered animal.

Inhuman hissing tore through the air. They moved in a blur of color and sound until everything silenced and Cybil stilled, her arms wrenched behind her back as David pinned her small form to the shredded mattress on the floor. He plucked a syringe from where he held it clenched between his sharp teeth and plunged it into her arm.

Cybil jerked and panted, her fangs streaked with blood. Unable to witness anymore, Cain forced himself to walk away. As he neared the end of the corridor, the frantic banging from her cell started again. She was constantly fighting, constantly angry. He shut the door and shut away his sadness at what poor little Cybil had become.

Rain pelted his chest on the walk home. His mood had soaked the fields, leaving the ground saturated and soft, and the buggies limited to only a few higher roads.

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