Red Blooded
Page 32
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Before I could get another word out, he raised his hands and power shot into the air with lightning speed. I heard Tyler yell in terror as the Prince’s dark essence hit me squarely in the chest, tossing me backward.
Blackness pulled me under, filing me up immediately, until there was nothing else.
12
I awoke with a gasp, my body jolting upward like I’d been shocked. My hand went straight to my chest, where the Prince had blasted me, as blood pounded in my ears, sounding like a rushing ocean with a heartbeat. My wolf paced back and forth in my mind. It was obvious she had been waiting for me to wake up for some time.
What happened? I asked her as I blinked and glanced around, trying to get my bearings.
She flashed me a picture of us being consumed by darkness.
I saw that part, but how did it happen? I had defeated the Prince of Hell’s magic before, and now that I had demon essence inside me, I’d been certain I could defeat him again—or at the very least hold my own in a fight. Where did the blackness go?
I glanced down at my hands like they would somehow give me answers to my burning questions, but of course they appeared perfectly normal. My fingernails had seen better days, but they weren’t falling off or streaked black with demon juice.
I rested one hand on the cool, slippery white floor beside me while I rubbed my other absentmindedly over my chest. Where are we?
After a moment, I stood slowly, turning in a full circle. The room was all white, and unlike in Lily’s cell, there wasn’t a scrap of furniture to be found. No bed, no dresser, which to me indicated no long-term stay.
I was taking that as a win.
There weren’t any doors either, and this time there wasn’t even a cutout where a door should’ve been. The room seemed to be hermitically sealed. I knew this wasn’t true, but it was still unsettling. I had to find a way out.
I paced forward, searching.
That wasn’t an ordinary shock of magic the Prince hit us with, I told my wolf. She didn’t answer. She was too focused on sending our power out now that I was finally awake. Either the Prince has always held out on us, or something else happened back there. I should not have fallen so easily to his magic.
It bothered me. I’d bested the Demon Lord before, so why was this time any different?
In my short experience as a wolf, I’d learned that magic had to go somewhere. When a supe was blasted with foreign magic, as the Prince and Tally had done to me, it either had to flow out, which is what Tally had hoped I’d do with it—or it had to be forced out like Ray had done when he vomited.
In my case alone, it stayed inside.
Most supes could transfer power easily, as my brother had to me when I’d needed it, but power wasn’t raw magic—it was energy, like giving a car a jump so it could grab its own juice. A supe needed power to make magic.
Magic was alive.
It was your signature, something that manifested from deep within you, and it made you unique. The stronger the supernatural, the more power they could generate. Thus their ability to control their magic was more potent.
This was what Rourke had been telling me all along.
The stronger the supe, the higher they were on the supernatural food chain. A supe with less power did not engage those with more power very often. But, on the other hand, if a pixie had been born with my kind of power she would have been fierce, able to wield her own magic to a much higher degree.
That’s what the sorcerers had wanted—to siphon off my power to enhance their own magic. But that wasn’t possible. A power transfer only worked in the short term, but it wasn’t something they could harness and keep.
My wolf barked, interrupting my thoughts. She motioned to the wall and I ran my hands along it as my wolf pushed our senses out to find a weakness or some escape pod. The walls were sterile and smooth, kind of like marble, but more porous. The texture was warm and sticky, but once again, there was no residue.
Not finding anything in the walls, I stepped back and glanced up at the ceiling, but only found more of the same.
Tyler, can you hear me? I called out in my mind. Are you out there?
Nothing.
Our connection was still blessedly there, however. I could feel he was alive, but I wasn’t picking up on anything else from him. The demons had a way to stanch communication or they had put him to sleep somehow. They had no real reason to hurt him, since I was here, but that wasn’t saying much. I had no idea how he reacted once I went down.
The Underworld was nothing like I’d imagined. Fire and brimstone would’ve been too clichéd, but office buildings, courtyards with gazebos, and demons wearing jumpsuits hadn’t been anywhere near my radar. It would’ve been nice if this place had been a little more predictable, because as I thought about escaping, I realized I had no idea how to do it or what I would encounter. It made it hard to prepare.
I sat down in the middle of the room and wrapped my arms around my knees. We have to be thoughtful about this, I told my wolf. We’re probably being monitored right now. I peered into all the corners, trying to locate anyplace they could’ve mounted a camera, as one hand wandered to my chest to rub the small ache that still lingered. We should’ve been able to take on the Prince’s magic. I was having trouble letting it go. My wolf growled in agreement. We went down too quickly. And I wonder if Tyler tried to defend us? I’m sure he did and they better not have hurt him.
I hated not knowing.
There was no doubt in my mind Tyler had tried to protect me, but how much had they punished him for it? Before I could formulate a new plan, a ding sounding like a doorbell sounded and a voice rang out in passable English: “Prisoner, you will stand trial in three hours. You must prepare yourself.”
Prepare myself? “And how am I supposed to do that?” I called. “Shouldn’t I be meeting with a lawyer?” Did they have demon lawyers in Hell? “Or see someone who is going to try my case?”
No response.
Instead a drawer slid open on the far wall.
I jumped up and went over to investigate. Inside lay a single jumpsuit, neatly folded. I glanced around me, hands on my hips. “I’m not wearing that, so you can forget it,” I called. There was no way I was putting on something they could control me in. I still wore the witches’ hemp fatigues and they’d proven to be very durable and flexible—even after all the blood and guts, and subsequent water dump baths I’d taken.
“You must wear the appropriate garments,” the voice stated in an even tone.
Blackness pulled me under, filing me up immediately, until there was nothing else.
12
I awoke with a gasp, my body jolting upward like I’d been shocked. My hand went straight to my chest, where the Prince had blasted me, as blood pounded in my ears, sounding like a rushing ocean with a heartbeat. My wolf paced back and forth in my mind. It was obvious she had been waiting for me to wake up for some time.
What happened? I asked her as I blinked and glanced around, trying to get my bearings.
She flashed me a picture of us being consumed by darkness.
I saw that part, but how did it happen? I had defeated the Prince of Hell’s magic before, and now that I had demon essence inside me, I’d been certain I could defeat him again—or at the very least hold my own in a fight. Where did the blackness go?
I glanced down at my hands like they would somehow give me answers to my burning questions, but of course they appeared perfectly normal. My fingernails had seen better days, but they weren’t falling off or streaked black with demon juice.
I rested one hand on the cool, slippery white floor beside me while I rubbed my other absentmindedly over my chest. Where are we?
After a moment, I stood slowly, turning in a full circle. The room was all white, and unlike in Lily’s cell, there wasn’t a scrap of furniture to be found. No bed, no dresser, which to me indicated no long-term stay.
I was taking that as a win.
There weren’t any doors either, and this time there wasn’t even a cutout where a door should’ve been. The room seemed to be hermitically sealed. I knew this wasn’t true, but it was still unsettling. I had to find a way out.
I paced forward, searching.
That wasn’t an ordinary shock of magic the Prince hit us with, I told my wolf. She didn’t answer. She was too focused on sending our power out now that I was finally awake. Either the Prince has always held out on us, or something else happened back there. I should not have fallen so easily to his magic.
It bothered me. I’d bested the Demon Lord before, so why was this time any different?
In my short experience as a wolf, I’d learned that magic had to go somewhere. When a supe was blasted with foreign magic, as the Prince and Tally had done to me, it either had to flow out, which is what Tally had hoped I’d do with it—or it had to be forced out like Ray had done when he vomited.
In my case alone, it stayed inside.
Most supes could transfer power easily, as my brother had to me when I’d needed it, but power wasn’t raw magic—it was energy, like giving a car a jump so it could grab its own juice. A supe needed power to make magic.
Magic was alive.
It was your signature, something that manifested from deep within you, and it made you unique. The stronger the supernatural, the more power they could generate. Thus their ability to control their magic was more potent.
This was what Rourke had been telling me all along.
The stronger the supe, the higher they were on the supernatural food chain. A supe with less power did not engage those with more power very often. But, on the other hand, if a pixie had been born with my kind of power she would have been fierce, able to wield her own magic to a much higher degree.
That’s what the sorcerers had wanted—to siphon off my power to enhance their own magic. But that wasn’t possible. A power transfer only worked in the short term, but it wasn’t something they could harness and keep.
My wolf barked, interrupting my thoughts. She motioned to the wall and I ran my hands along it as my wolf pushed our senses out to find a weakness or some escape pod. The walls were sterile and smooth, kind of like marble, but more porous. The texture was warm and sticky, but once again, there was no residue.
Not finding anything in the walls, I stepped back and glanced up at the ceiling, but only found more of the same.
Tyler, can you hear me? I called out in my mind. Are you out there?
Nothing.
Our connection was still blessedly there, however. I could feel he was alive, but I wasn’t picking up on anything else from him. The demons had a way to stanch communication or they had put him to sleep somehow. They had no real reason to hurt him, since I was here, but that wasn’t saying much. I had no idea how he reacted once I went down.
The Underworld was nothing like I’d imagined. Fire and brimstone would’ve been too clichéd, but office buildings, courtyards with gazebos, and demons wearing jumpsuits hadn’t been anywhere near my radar. It would’ve been nice if this place had been a little more predictable, because as I thought about escaping, I realized I had no idea how to do it or what I would encounter. It made it hard to prepare.
I sat down in the middle of the room and wrapped my arms around my knees. We have to be thoughtful about this, I told my wolf. We’re probably being monitored right now. I peered into all the corners, trying to locate anyplace they could’ve mounted a camera, as one hand wandered to my chest to rub the small ache that still lingered. We should’ve been able to take on the Prince’s magic. I was having trouble letting it go. My wolf growled in agreement. We went down too quickly. And I wonder if Tyler tried to defend us? I’m sure he did and they better not have hurt him.
I hated not knowing.
There was no doubt in my mind Tyler had tried to protect me, but how much had they punished him for it? Before I could formulate a new plan, a ding sounding like a doorbell sounded and a voice rang out in passable English: “Prisoner, you will stand trial in three hours. You must prepare yourself.”
Prepare myself? “And how am I supposed to do that?” I called. “Shouldn’t I be meeting with a lawyer?” Did they have demon lawyers in Hell? “Or see someone who is going to try my case?”
No response.
Instead a drawer slid open on the far wall.
I jumped up and went over to investigate. Inside lay a single jumpsuit, neatly folded. I glanced around me, hands on my hips. “I’m not wearing that, so you can forget it,” I called. There was no way I was putting on something they could control me in. I still wore the witches’ hemp fatigues and they’d proven to be very durable and flexible—even after all the blood and guts, and subsequent water dump baths I’d taken.
“You must wear the appropriate garments,” the voice stated in an even tone.
