Nephilim the Awakening (Wrath of the Fallen Book 1)

by Elizabeth Blackthorne

  “Pain... pain for alwaysssss...”

  Terror flowed through me, and I closed my eyes and screamed and screamed.

  Someone shook me hard, and my head rebounded off the floor with a crack. My eyes flew open, and I looked up into the white gaze of the blonde woman. She dragged me to my feet, her hand fastened around my wrist.

  “What the fuck was that?” The man was staggering to his feet, looking at me with a weird expression. His navy suit was slightly rumpled, and he had a grey sheen to his face that cheered me somewhat.

  The woman shrugged. “Damned if I know. I thought I’d lost her for a moment there, and that’s never happened to me before.” She pulled me around to face her. “That’s my little gift, you see. I can inflict pain without doing injury, which comes in handy because you can’t die when I punish you. That means you can never escape what I’m doing to you. Just something to keep in mind.” She grinned, revealing particularly sharp teeth.

  I smiled back sweetly then spat in her face. She pulled a long white cloth out of her pocket and wiped her face with it, keeping her eyes on me. I kept smiling. Her eyes narrowed again, and I braced myself for the pain, but instead of using her ability, she slapped me hard. The man grabbed me again and forced me towards the small door in the side of the room. I tried to glance back at the main door to see if any of the guys were coming back to check on me, but I saw nothing. Fuck.

  The small door led to a narrow corridor, and then out into a cramped side street behind the church. A dark-coloured van was parked at one end, and something told me that was my ride. We moved towards it, and I relaxed a little—not enough to make him think I was trying something again though. With that evil bitch and her shock treatment, I wasn’t getting out of here anytime soon. The muscle in the suit was holding onto my right arm like a vice, but my left arm was hanging loose at my side next to the blonde. As we moved closer to the van, I slowly slid my hand up behind me and tugged the journal out of my jeans, holding it in place until we reached the van. A tall, skinny man with a shaved head and a tattoo of flying birds on his face jumped out of the driver’s seat and slid open the back door.

  “Get in, and no messing around.” Suit pushed me towards the van roughly, and I took the opportunity to trip and fall onto the step. As I struggled to right myself, I slid the journal under the van past the wheel where they wouldn’t catch sight of it.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, and crawled into the van.

  White Eyes got in with me, and I was spun around and pushed onto the van floor. She pinned my wrists behind me, and I felt the tight nip of cable ties slide against my skin. She didn’t leave any slack either, pulling them so tight, they pinched badly. I bit my lip and said nothing, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. Suit climbed in with her, and the white cloth passed over my eyes. I panicked as I realised he was going to gag me with it.

  “No, please, I’ll be quiet, I promise—” My words were cut off as he stuffed a wad of fabric into my mouth and pulled the white one tight between my lips. Dread overwhelmed me, and I struggled, but the cable ties held firm, and the woman sat on the backs of my legs, attaching more ties to my ankles.

  When I was secure, the man dragged me up and threw me into a corner so I was half sitting up. “Sit still and stay fucking quiet. Any shit from you, and you’ll regret it.”

  I nodded, my head ringing. I felt sick and dizzy from banging my head on the floor earlier, and for a moment, I thought I might pass out. The idea of falling unconscious while gagged brought on a new flood of panic, and I forced myself to breathe slowly and calm myself down. The van had started up and pulled away while I was struggling, and I realised I had no way of telling where we were going. A vibration in my jacket pocket started me, and I jumped. Suit Muscle cast a suspicious glance my way, but when he saw I wasn’t trying to cause trouble, he looked back at White Eyes. They were muttering together in a language I didn’t recognise, and I was just grateful he hadn’t heard the phone. The rumble of the van must be covering the noise. It vibrated again and again, and I realised it must be the guys wondering where I was. Even though I couldn’t answer, it gave me some comfort to know they were looking for me, and I found myself waiting for the buzz as the van bumped along mystery roads. As time dragged on, the space between the vibrations grew longer until they stopped altogether. I leaned my head against the metal panel and closed my eyes, praying they hadn’t given up on me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  FAITH

  I came awake when the van door slid aside with a crash. Whether I had fallen asleep or just blacked out, I wasn’t sure, but we had obviously travelled some distance. We were in the countryside. In the growing twilight, I could make out rows of grape vines stretching off into the distance and the dark outlines of cypress trees standing like formidable guards around the building we had arrived at. The cable ties had cut off the circulation to my feet, and pins and needles flooded my legs from sitting on them for too long. I could barely stand, and they seemed to have no intention of removing the ties. Instead, Suit and Bird Boy slipped a hand under my arms and dragged me towards the door that White Eyes was unlocking.

  The building itself looked like a derelict farmhouse, and with a sinking feeling, I realised I couldn’t see another building or lights anywhere. The door came open, and I was hauled through it and down the corridor beyond into a large kitchen. They’d obviously been here a while. Dirty cups and dishes were piled in the sink, and a rather large rat was gnawing on an old chicken carcass. White Eyes stepped forward and, with a movement faster than I could see, reached out and grabbed the rat. I watched in disgust as she stared at it, smiling coldly. I didn’t know rats could scream, but the sound it was making was fairly close. Her eyes flicked up to Suit, and he stepped forward, licking his lips. Sliding his hand behind her head, he pulled her mouth to his, crushing her back against the wall. She moaned loudly and rubbed herself against him. My eyes dropped to the rat in her hand, who had stopped squealing as she squeezed it tighter and tighter. Blood started to stream from its eyes and mouth, and I looked away, fighting the urge to vomit, which with the gag would surely end in me choking to death. Bird Boy cleared his throat, and I heard the two pull apart. I opened my eyes to find White Eyes right in front of me. She smiled and raised her hand slowly. It was covered in rat blood. Gently, as though she was touching a lover, she ran her fingertips down my face, streaking it with red, then she slipped her fingers into her mouth. I swallowed but met her stare.

  She grinned. “We’re going to have so much fun with this one.”

  Suit came up behind her and put his arms around her, staring at me over her shoulder. “And I fully intend to reap the benefits.”

  Bird Boy grunted and began to drag me towards another door at the end of the kitchen. It opened to reveal a flight of stairs descending into the darkness. Another cellar. What the fuck was it with people having cellars? There was only one large room below the building, and it was fairly bare. The sight of a plumbed toilet, a filthy sink, and three dirty mattresses around the edges of the room gave me a sick feeling that they had used this building for this purpose before—whatever this purpose was. At the top of the stairs, Bird Boy paused and took out a switchblade. I held my breath until he bent down to cut open the cable ties around my ankles.

  “Down,” he grumbled, and gave me a shove. It wasn’t much of a shove, except that I was still feeling fairly numb. My knees were weakened, and his push threw me off balance. I rolled down the stairs, unable to break my fall because of my bound wrists. I lay on the concrete floor, breathing hard and wondering if any of the limbs that hurt like hell were actually broken. Bird Boy gave a huff of frustration and clomped down the stairs.

  A groan of pain escaped me as he rolled me onto my stomach and cut the ties around my wrists. I gasped as the blood started to flow properly again, but he seized one wrist and dragged me over to a mattress. I dug my heels into the ground and started yanking back. He was stronger than he looked though, and he pulled me onto t
he mattress, kneeling on my back and pressing my face into the grimy fabric. I held my breath, praying to whatever god would listen that he was simply going to tie me up. I heard the clink of metal behind me and felt him tugging my boots off. Forgetting that I was gagged just for a moment, I turned, trying to tell him if he damaged my boots I would not be fucking impressed. Metal cuffs clicked around my ankles, and then I felt his hands on my body.

  Horror filled me, and I began to struggle, trying to kick him, hit him, but his legs pinned me down and his hands still roamed over me. He rolled me over beneath him and grabbed my wrists, transferring them to one hand as he continued. I realised he was only searching me, and I stopped fighting. It only took him a few seconds before he located my phone, which he pocketed. I wasn’t carrying anything else. Sam had put my wallet in his pocket after he’d spotted it sticking out of my jacket in case we were cased by pickpockets, and other than my phone, I didn’t need much with me. Satisfied I wasn’t carrying a weapon, or another phone, he stood up, and without a backwards glance, climbed the stairs to the kitchen and slammed the door shut, leaving me in darkness.

  Shifting my legs onto the mattress, I ignored the aches and pains from my treatment and curled up, pulling my leather jacket tight around me. It didn’t give much warmth, and it was chilly down here. Refusing to let myself think in case I plunged into useless hysterics, I concentrated on the footsteps I could hear above me until they finally faded into silence.

  “Are you hurt badly?” a soft voice asked from the far corner.

  I sat bolt upright. “Who are you?”

  “My name’s Amara. Are you okay? You fell down those stairs pretty hard.”

  I stretched slowly, wondering the same thing myself. “I think so. It doesn’t seem like anything’s broken, but I think I’m going to feel it tomorrow.”

  Amara gave a short, sharp laugh. “Trust me, tomorrow you’ll be wishing all you had was a broken bone.”

  I drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, trying to stop my heart from hammering. “Why? What happens tomorrow?”

  “Well, if you’re here for the same reason as me, I imagine Fisher will be here in the morning, and then they’ll start questioning you.”

  “Questioning me about what? I don’t know anything. I have no idea who these people are!” My voice grew embarrassingly high-pitched, and I forced myself to breathe.

  “Quiet! You really don’t want them to hear you.”

  I looked over to where the voice was coming from. As the moon rose outside, the small window let in increasingly more light, and I was starting to see grey outlines in the shadows. Amara was lying curled up on another mattress, though I only spotted her because she shifted positions.

  “Why are you here?”

  I saw a small movement, which might have been a shrug. “I’m not entirely sure where here is. I know I’m not in England anymore, because when they took me, I felt us taking off and landing. I figure we must be somewhere in Europe because the flight wasn’t that long, but I’m not sure where.”

  “We’re in Italy. Well, I think we are. I was taken in Florence, but we drove for several hours, so I guess we could be anywhere now. I definitely didn’t get on a plane though. How long have you been here?”

  She sighed. “A little over five weeks. I’ve been keeping count, watching the sun rise and set. They keep questioning me about this ancient relic, but I don’t know anything. It was my colleague’s project, but they insist she must have told me about it. I mean, she told me bits, but nothing I’ve told them seems to be helpful.”

  I freeze, my skin growing cold. “Amara, what do you do?”

  “I work in an archaeology department for a university.” She laughed, but there was no humour in it. “I mean, I’m not exactly concealing classified information terrorists would want.”

  I swallowed. “Who... who was your colleague, Amara?”

  “What?”

  “The colleague you mentioned. What was her name?”

  “Oh, her. Matthews, Dr Rose Matthews. Ring any bells?”

  I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. Wetness dripped down my face, mixing with rat blood. “Yes. It does. She’s my mother.”

  “Oh.” Amara went quiet and wouldn’t speak anymore. The darkness seemed to grow around us again. I pressed my face into the mattress and cried as quietly as I could.

  *

  The next morning dawned, cold and damp. I cringed at the thought of moving from the tiny pocket of warmth I’d created where my body was in contact with the mattress, but judging by the quiet snores in the corner, I could tell Amara was still asleep, and desiring to preserve my dignity as much as possible, I wanted to use the loo before she woke up. The chains stretched just far enough for me to relieve myself and splash some water on my face. I scrubbed at my face, trying to remove any remaining rat blood, and then ran my fingers through my hair.

  My back itched again. It never seemed to stop now, and I rubbed myself against the rough wall, trying to relieve it. I slid down slowly, stretching my legs out in front of me as I sat on the mattress. After crying for what felt like hours, I’d given myself a stern, silent talking to. I’d seen the resources the guys had first-hand, and I was certain they would come for me. I just had to hold out until they did. I’d worked out that they couldn’t possibly have my mother, otherwise they wouldn’t need to question me, and I had convinced myself that she was hiding out somewhere away from these evil fuckers. I wasn’t going to disclose anything that might give her away.

  When Amara woke, she wasn’t in the mood for talking. She relieved herself with no apparent embarrassment and then laid herself back down on her mattress, staring up at the ceiling and refusing to speak. I studied her from my own mattress. Her limp, shoulder-length brown hair was dirty and matted with what could have been blood, though I saw no external injuries. Her face was sunken and gaunt, her eyes like golf balls in deep sockets. She was dressed in suit trousers and a light-coloured shirt that hung open to reveal the vest underneath. Her low black heels were placed neatly together at the end of the mattress, and at the sight of them, I turned my head to see my own boots in a similar position.

  Seeing them made me feel a little better after viewing Amara’s state in the light. I was starting to get very nervous about what was coming. Okay, terrified. I was fucking terrified. But there was no way I was going to let them know that. Plus, I was a witch, wasn’t I? I mean, I’d never been taught how to use magic for practical purposes. It was more like studying the theory for a driving test before you were allowed to get behind the wheel. But I had to be able to do something, surely. I was still pondering this when the door above creaked open and footsteps sounded down the stairs.

  Suit and Bird Boy came down the staircase. To my surprise, Suit offered me a bottle of water. I looked closely at it, but the seal didn’t seem to be broken, so I turned the lid and drank deeply. I watched as Bird Boy grabbed a chair from the side of the room and dragged it slowly into the middle of the space.

  “Take a seat.” Suit gestured towards the chair.

  I stretched out on the mattress, my back up against the wall. “I’m good here, thanks. I was never one for upright chairs, always being told off for slouching when I was a kid.”

  Suit cocked his head, then he lunged at me suddenly, making me jump, and his fingers twisted into my hair. I gritted my teeth hard as he dragged me to the chair and slammed me down into it. Bird Boy was waiting with more cable ties, which he used to attach my wrists to the back legs of the chair. Crouching down, he did the same for my ankles, binding them to the front legs. I aimed a kick at him, but he caught my foot easily and twisted it sharply, causing me to cry out. I glared at him, imagining kicking his ass once I got free. Suit stepped back and turned to leave.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  He turned his head. “Now, you wait.” The two of them went back up the stairs, closing the door behind them. I heard the key turn but noticed they didn’t pull the key out of
the door. I filed that bit of information away in my mind for later.

  “Amara?”

  “Mmmm.”

  “Amara!”

  “What?” She didn’t move.

  “This Fisher, what does he do exactly?”

  “Oh, he doesn’t do anything. He just asks the questions. It’s the others you need to worry about.”

  “Why? What are they going to do?” I don’t know why I asked. I was assuming I wasn’t going to come out of this particular situation unscathed, but I wanted to be prepared for what was coming.

  “They hurt you.”

  Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. The door opened again, and this time Suit and Bird Boy brought up the rear. White Eyes came down first, dressed in a white trouser suit and looking very out of place in this dump. Behind her was a man I didn’t recognise, and who, I guessed, was the infamous Fisher. He didn’t appear very threatening. In fact, he looked more like an accountant with his tweed suit and red spotted bow tie. He even carried a leather briefcase. When Suit and Bird Boy reached the floor, they went to a corner of the room and dragged a table and chair forward, which looked a lot more comfortable than the one I was currently strapped to.