Amare- Bloodlines

by J Gaines

  Amias dropped his sword and knocked Andre’s hand away in one rapid movement, grabbing his shirt and twisting him around before locking his arms around his neck. In the same instant that he made his move, the men also made theirs. Every one of them pulled a gun of some type and pointed them towards Amias and Andre. Andre gargled and Amias realised it was a laugh. “One hundred bullets won’t stop me snapping your neck, Andre. Your men can turn me into a sieve, but you’ll be dead as well.” He heard Andre laugh again and loosened his grip on his neck slightly, so he could speak.

  “Look who they’re aiming at, Amias.”

  For the first time Amias realised that the guns were all pointed at Lucas, who looked back at him helplessly. As their eyes met, Amias could see the question that was in Lucas’s mind: he was asking whether he would sacrifice both of their lives. He knew he was ready to die but not yet, and not by their hands. Not until he faced Kaden again. He released Andre and pushed him forward. As soon as he was released Andre began to laugh insanely. He raised his hand to his men, and then dropped it as they ran forward and pulled cattle prods from their belts. Amias watched as Lucas disappeared below a wave of men who lashed out viciously. He turned and let himself be taken by the wave. His mind turned to Kaden as he heard Andre’s hissing laugh for the last time.

  Chapter 9

  Control.

  Everything was dark. Something had been pulled over Amias’s head, and with his face pushed down against the hard floor, it was hard to breathe. He listened to the deep growl from an engine and guessed he was in the back of a van. He tried to judge which way he was going as he rolled back and forth but it was no good; he’d been unconscious for too much of the journey. His legs were bound tightly, and his hands had been tied behind him. He tried to lift his arms but realised they’d been fastened to the bindings around his ankles. He lay still for what seemed like an age, listening intently for a sign that someone else was in the van with him. When he was sure he couldn’t hear anything else he lifted his head slightly.

  “Lucas?” he whispered.

  Something hit him hard in the head, and then again. He became dizzy and began to lose consciousness, holding onto the thoughts that were running repeatedly through his hazy mind.

  Control. Don’t fight.

  *

  He awoke to find he was still in the van; how long had he been unconscious for this time? Blood from a wound on his forehead had run down and gathered around his mouth, sticking the material of whatever it was covering his head to his face. The strong taste of iron was on his lips and he spat slightly to clear his mouth.

  He was hit again, and he lay still.

  Not now.

  *

  The van had stopped but the engine was still running. He figured he’d been lying quietly for at least twenty minutes, and he’d still not heard any noise from the person he was sharing the vehicle with. The rumbling of the engine and the creaking of the vehicle had made it difficult to concentrate and a feeling of claustrophobia had been building since the last blow. The smelly material covering his face was stuck firmly to his skin and it was difficult to breathe properly. With the threat of being hit again he’d been forced to lie motionless, closing his eyes as he tried to focus on his control. He searched his mind for the mastery he’d felt when Virgil had locked him in the chest; it seemed like an age ago. His thoughts searched further back than that, to a time before he’d been found. Suddenly he remembered his cell, and how he’d push against the walls, not allowing the claustrophobia to overcome him and searching for breaths he knew were always there. The van was moving again but slowly.

  Not long now.

  *

  At last the van stopped and he heard the back doors open. Somebody jumped in and for the first time he heard the person who had hit him stand up. The two people didn’t talk to each other and he lay still, awaiting their next move. He was lifted by two pairs of strong arms and was pulled roughly along the back of the van. One of his captors jumped out, and he was pushed off the edge. He hit the hard ground with a jolt and his head swam as he was picked up again. He grimaced in pain and spat more blood against the dark material that blocked out the light and any sign of where he was being taken. A strong punch to his stomach caused his body to arch and he gritted his teeth in pain. As he was dragged quickly away from the van he wondered if Lucas had been in there with him. It was possible he’d been placed in the other van, but if that was the case, how had their attackers travelled? He knew his treatment was designed to disorientate him, but he couldn’t ignore the questions gnawing at his conscience.

  It was my fault.

  He stopped momentarily and heard a door being unlocked and swung open. He was punched in the midriff again and lurched forward, before being thrown to the cold floor. He lay still as a door was closed and locked. His stomach tensed, not from the pain of the punch, but from the realisation of where he was now lying. Resisting the temptation to move, he lay silently and listened. There was no sign that anyone else shared his confinement, but still he waited, fighting every urge to move. Blood was filling up in the side of his mouth from a cut on the inside of his cheek. He tried to let it trickle from his lips, but it continued to well up, slowly moving to the back of his throat and making it harder to breathe. His eyes closed.

  *

  He awoke to find himself stripped of his restraints and the hood removed. A chair faced the bed he was lying upon and books lined a shelf above it. Sunlight was shining through a barred window. He sat up. How long had he been asleep? He looked down at himself in puzzlement. His clothes had been changed and he was now wearing tracksuit bottoms. There was a mirror above a stainless-steel sink, which was next to a toilet. A faint sense of recognition hit him as he walked towards it. The face he saw in the reflection was his, but he looked different. He couldn’t see any sign of cuts or bruises, and he looked younger. His eyes were drawn to his cheek where a scar began to draw itself from under his eye and scrawl downwards to his chin. He stepped back in shock and suddenly blood shot from his mouth as he was sick. Vomit sprayed onto the walls and he grabbed hold of the sink. He coughed and felt his throat tighten as he began to choke and battle for air. More blood flowed through his lips and he dropped to his knees. A noise from a closed door he’d only just noticed drew his attention and he struggled towards it, desperate for help. The handle moved but the door remained closed as he dragged himself towards it, reaching out in desperation, sure that his salvation was trying to reach him. He coughed again and gasped for breath as he stretched out his arm and his fingertips touched the door handle. He felt a slight tingle like an electric shock run down his fingers and up his arm. Every muscle and sinew in his body tensed as he gripped the stainless-steel handle. The tingle of electricity magnified into a shock that burned into his hand, causing him to use his last breath to scream in pain. Still he held on and wrenched the door open. His eyes bulged as he searched for oxygen and he peered into a pair of blue eyes looking back at him from the darkness.

  *

  His eyes opened and the first thing he felt was the cold hard floor through the hood as he lifted his head and threw up a mixture of blood and bile. It lined the material still covering his face and he struggled to arch his mouth away from it, turning onto his side so that he could breathe. He lay still, his chest heaving as he sucked in as much air as possible. It was quiet in his cell and when he was sure he was alone he began to strain against his bonds as he tried to straighten his legs, pulling against whatever was attaching them to his wrists. His body tensed, and his abdominal muscles ached as he tested his bonds. He stopped and closed his eyes.

  Not yet.

  *

  The darkness inside his hood and within his cell gave him no hint as to what time it was, or how long he’d been asleep. Hunger was beginning to take hold of him and his head throbbed with pain as he felt the early onset of dehydration. As he lay helplessly in the darkness, a scream ripped through the si
lence. It wasn’t close, but he felt the feral anguish it contained. The cries continued for what Amias estimated to be around an hour, and then suddenly fell silent as quickly as they’d started. He prepared himself for a visit from his captors and waited, keeping his eyes open and listening for an early sign of an approach. When nobody came, he closed his eyes again.

  *

  He was asleep again. He knew it somehow, but something still felt real to him as he looked across the fields from his vantage point by the tree next to their base. Bright sunshine hurt his eyes as he tried to focus on something far away and he stepped into the shadow of the tree. He shook his head as if it would eradicate the dull pain that stretched from his forehead to his temples, making it hard to concentrate. He gritted his teeth and lifted his head, squinting as he felt an urgency to identify whatever it was he’d been looking at. He felt his muscles twitch and the tingle of his hormones reacting inside of him. Something was coming for him.

  As he watched the blurry dark shape moving slowly through the fields, clouds began quickly travelling across the sky, blotting out the sun. Suddenly he felt cold. His hair was blown back as the wind became stronger and he turned his head to shelter his face. A howl cut through the gloom and he lifted his head, realising the danger he was in. As he stepped slowly backwards so that his back was against the tree, the sky grew darker and dusk quickly turned into night. The dark shape was now standing about one hundred yards away from him and he watched as it raised his head. Another howl broke into what was now night, a long unbroken call that Amias wished would stop.

  He saw a pair of glowing blue eyes as the shape moved closer, and then made out the large black head of a wolf. It held its huge head high and its arched neck was thick and powerful. Its eyes were fixed on him and for a moment he considered running or climbing the tree to escape. It was as if the wolf read his thoughts and suddenly it broke into a run, keeping its deadly eyes on him and closing the gap between them in seconds. Amias’s heart thumped: could he fight his way free of the animal? He could see his own death in the deadly blue eyes of the animal. He remained still, straightening slightly to appear as large as he possibly could. Don’t run. Stand your ground. The wolf’s thick black hair bristled on its neck and it took a step closer, threatening an attack. Amias remained still and desperately tried to find a way to wake up and escape the wolf’s unflinching eyes. As they stood their ground, watching each other intently, the wind whistled and blew into Amias’s face again. As if in answer to the wind the wolf turned in the direction it had come from. Rain began to fall and as the wolf turned back to Amias it stepped forward again; its fur was becoming wet as the rain became heavier. Amias was readying himself for the attack when he noticed more shapes materialising from the darkness. Six wolves walked towards him and flanked the larger black wolf, who howled the same call as before: an invitation to hunt! Amias felt a new helplessness, and a sadness that threatened to overcome his slowly retreating resolve. He dropped to his knees and the large black wolf came so close he could feel its hot breath on his forehead. His head hung forward and he closed his eyes. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he felt a keen feeling of failure that was sharper than any injury the wolf could inflict. When the bite didn’t come, he opened his eyes and raised his head. Darkness had surrounded him, and a pair of blue eyes was the only thing he could see.

  *

  He woke up, startled and sweating, and found himself on the floor of his cell, still bound. His eyes were blurry from fresh tears, and the feeling of helplessness and failure still welled deep inside him. A sudden sound pierced the darkness: a door being unlocked, and then a long creak as it swung open on rusty hinges. Footsteps followed, and he was hoisted into the air and dragged roughly forwards. His feet dragged against the floor as he was pulled out of his cell. Underneath the hood a light brightened the darkness slightly and he was carried for a few minutes before he was forced onto a chair. His bonds were loosened slightly, and strong hands gripped his forearms as they were pulled behind his back again. He felt something being looped around him and the chair.

  Not yet.

  Whatever it was that restrained him was tightened and it bit into his skin. He then felt something else fasten around his arms and his midriff. It was obvious they weren’t risking any chance of escape. Despite his circumstances he felt a rising excitement, and a small ray of hope in the darkness.

  Wait.

  The hands finished their work and a punch to his face told him that they were sure he was fully restrained. He spat more blood against the soiled material that still blocked his vision. There was silence and he wondered if he’d been left alone again.

  I can be patient.

  As he waited his resolve was building. He knew this was part of breaking him, but he was ready for it. If there was the chance Kaden would come for him, he felt he could wait as long as they kept him alive. He smiled underneath his hood. Suddenly he felt the chair being tipped back so that he was lying at a ninety-degree angle. The sudden movement disorientated him slightly: what was coming next? His question was quickly answered as he felt a weight against the material covering his face. It took a moment for him to realise what was causing the pressure as it began to find its way through the material and seep onto his skin and up his nose. Water. Before he could take a breath, the icy cold water ran into his mouth and he choked and spluttered. The water continued to flow into his face and he struggled and turned his head to try and find a breath. It was impossible to escape; whichever way he turned his head the water found his mouth and nose. His lungs felt as if they would burst and his throat burned with pain. A dizzying darkness descended on him; he was about to lose consciousness when he was thrown upright and the water flow stopped. He coughed violently and threw up into his hood, fighting to clear his airway and find the air he desperately needed. Finally he managed to suck in a long breath and he coughed again. He felt as if he had swallowed razor blades; his throat burned, and he spat and spluttered blood and water down his chin.

  Hands clasped his forearms again and he felt the bonds being loosened. Fingers pulled against the tight cords and he was pulled from the chair and thrown to the floor; when he felt his old restraints reapplied, he didn’t fight. He was picked up and pulled along the floor until he was dropped again. He lay still and heard the door being closed and the lock clicking. His heart was beating, and he clenched his fists. A strength was building, offering him a chance to escape. He tested his bonds and felt them bite into his wrists. He could break them – he knew he could – but he wasn’t finished. Kaden hadn’t revealed himself and if he escaped now he might not get the chance he craved, the chance he needed. As he lay on the cold floor the first spark of doubt crept into his mind and he quickly extinguished it.

  This is the chance I’ve waited for. They are trying to break me.

  He closed his eyes and took a long breath, the way he’d been taught by Virgil. He inhaled, long and slowly through his nose, controlling the breath using his stomach and feeling the oxygen enter his bloodstream. He took another breath and focussed on his plan.

  *

  As he was pulled from his cell again, he tried to ready himself for what he knew was to come. He was placed in the chair again and he waited as the silence fell once more, leaving him to wonder how long he would have to wait. It wasn’t long, as he was thrown back again and instantly water was poured into his face. This time he was able to take a breath, but it didn’t make the difference he thought it would. The icy liquid still found its way into his nose and mouth and choked him, causing him to cough violently and lose the control he desperately fought to hold onto. The torture continued until the thought crossed his mind that this might be the end. Then, as before, he was thrown upright as suddenly as he’d been thrown back. He struggled for air again as he was untied and pulled from the room.

  *

  He awoke to hear Lucas’s screams again. Long, anguished wails that echoed around his cell and pierced h
is mind and soul. As he lay there listening, he wondered if Lucas would understand: if he knew what he was doing and why he wasn’t trying to escape. In the short time he’d known Lucas he’d realised he was someone who would do anything to achieve his objective, no matter what the cost. But as the howls of pain continued he couldn’t help but wonder if that was still true. He’d been sure his dislike for Lucas had been mutual, but now that they were sharing this torture he couldn’t help but concentrate on qualities that he’d never before noticed about him. He listened as the screaming stopped, and then he heard footsteps and his door being unlocked.

  *

  He was subjected to the same routine another three times over a period he could no longer identify. Each time the water was poured into his face and nobody spoke to him. The hood hadn’t been removed; it began to smell and had become almost unbearable. His wrists and ankles were sore, and his bonds dug deep into his skin, causing him excruciating pain every time he was moved. When he slept, he found little peace; his dreams were filled with darkness and images that he could neither understand nor recognise. The wolves didn’t return, and he was grateful for that, but Kaden haunted almost every one of his dreams. Both when he was awake and when he was asleep, the cold black eyes of his enemy were always in his mind. He hadn’t heard Lucas’s screams again, which worried him slightly. As he considered the possibilities as to what could have happened to him, his only solace was that it was unlikely he would have been killed. Kaden would know that he was too valuable as leverage to use against him.