by M A Roth
I focused on my footing again as we moved through another tunnel similar to the one we had entered. It was still very warm, but the difference now was that on both sides of us sat cages, each holding one prisoner. They couldn’t stand; I don’t think they could move, the cages were that small. I saw the whites of eyes a few times, and I clenched my fists. No one deserved such a fate. Some of them noticed us, but no one spoke. Not one of them screamed for the guards. They just looked at us from their hunched and twisted positions. The deeper we went, the darker it got.
But it also got cooler, and I was grateful for it for the first few moments. My wet clothes clung to my skin with a coldness that seemed to seep into my bones.
“We are nearly there,” Nicolas whispered. It was the first he had spoken since we entered the tunnel. I nodded to his back. I knew he couldn’t see the gesture, but I didn’t care. It was like all my earlier aches and pains had returned with a vengeance. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me now, but I kept moving, keeping close to Nicolas.
My panic tripled when we hit a dead end in the tunnel, but it didn’t last long. Nicolas turned to me, pulled me abruptly into his arms. I attempted to pull away, but the earth left from under my feet, and I clung to him for dear life. As we fell, I was sure I heard him laugh.
CHAPTER TEN
My feet touched solid ground, and I immediately pushed away from Nicolas just a second before I got sick. My stomach ached when I was finished. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I noticed how much my hands were shaking. A part of me felt like I was dying. I glanced at Nicolas. He was ready to go. I could see the impatience settle around him. But I wasn’t ready. “Was that hell?” I asked, hoping for a short rest. I wanted to know why the landscape had altered so much.
“This is hell.” Nicolas threw his hands out either side of him. “It’s all hell. Now we need to move.”
His impatience had me standing up straight. “Look, seriously I need like a five-minute break.” My hands shook, and I stuck them behind my back.
“Enjoy.” That’s all he said before walking down a steep hill, almost out of sight.
“Fucking asshole,” I mumbled before going after him. Once I crossed the hill, I stopped walking, taking in all that sat before us. There was a large castle which had small homes scattered around it. The castle stood in the center, with homes surrounding it on all sides, and the forest surrounded the homes. The movements of people resembled that of small ants scurrying around the place, we were still a bit away, but my stomach tightened again at seeing so many people.
Nicolas had stopped walking; he didn’t turn around to me. After a moment of gawking, he started moving forward. I caught up with him. His eyes focused straight ahead; I noticed he never looked at the ground, as if the path was etched into his memory.
I, on the other hand, moved with more care. I didn’t want a repeat of what had happened the last time I fell. The closer we got to the castle, the more I found myself stopping every few moments, just taking it all in. It didn’t seem possible that such a beautiful place existed in Hell. Everything I had learned was so wrong.
“Keep up; there are worse...” Nicolas started.
I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “Yeah, I know, there are worse things than you in Hades,” I said, passing him out. He stood with a slight look of amusement on his face at my words. As if I could forget them. He matched my pace as the settlement came closer, and soon the people were right there in front of us.
Nicolas stopped me just out of earshot. His eyes roamed my face. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but I was getting pretty uncomfortable.
“What?” I questioned.
“Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t leave my side. Do you understand?” I wanted to roll my eyes at him. But something told me not to. When I didn’t answer, he grabbed my arm. “I do need you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kill you.”
I pulled my arm out of his firm grip. “I’m very much aware that you would kill me, Nicolas; you already did it once. So yes, I understand.”
He spent a few more seconds eyeing me before turning to the crowd, who all watched us. My stomach tightened at all the watchful eyes. “Your Highness” was said repeatedly, with a look of fear and respect. But when their eyes fell on me, it was only hate, pure hate.
I looked at Nicolas for an explanation, not really expecting one off Mr. Friendly, and I didn’t get one—only his gloved hand holding my arm as he nodded in greeting to the people. He directed us towards the large and looming castle.
What was to be my fate?
Before I could think any more, a young woman of around twenty bounded through the large castle gates that had started to open on our arrival. Her figure was very toned, as if she worked out daily, and with the heavy sword strapped to her side, I could see what her workout was. Her hair was jet-black, tied in a high bobbin that swung as she raced towards us, a smile on her snow white, flawless face. She was beautiful in all the right ways; her eyes shone a stunning brown, rimmed with dark lashes, yet her lips were wide and naturally pink. The smile revealed a perfect set of teeth.
She threw herself into Nicolas’s arms, and I watched as his face melted into a warm smile, making his black eyes turn a beautiful brown just like those of the girl that clung to him. The resemblance couldn’t be missed. They were siblings.
“I missed you” she whispered before letting her brother go, and then her eyes fell on me. “So this is her?” she asked, and Nicolas nodded before meeting my gaze, his face returning to stone.
What a great effect I had on him. “My sister, Elena,” he said.
Elena continued to study me before turning back to her brother, a scowl set on her face. “What did you do to her?” she questioned.
“Nothing. We just didn’t have the easiest journey to get here.” Before she could ask any more questions, he leaned in and whispered close to her, “We will talk inside, not here.”
I looked around to see we had gained an audience, and all the lethal stares were focused on me. All they needed was pitchforks, and they would resemble an angry mob. Was my fear causing this? My head pounded, and I didn’t think my body could take much more. “Are they real?” I asked.
My words caused Elena to laugh, really laugh, but her face grew serious when she saw I wasn’t joking. She cleared her throat. “Very much so,” was all she said.
Nicolas replaced his iron grip on my arm and pulled me alongside him until we were inside the castle gates. The doors gave a resounding bang behind us. I was led into what looked like a meeting room. A large mahogany table was coated in maps, which Nicolas quickly rolled up and took away from my prying eyes.
“You should sit,” Elena said, pulling out a chair. This felt like good cop, bad cop. I gave her a suspicious look as I sat slowly. I didn’t know what I was waiting for as I held my breath, but when nothing happened, I let it out.
A door tucked in between two high bookshelves opened, and a women’s large backside came into view. She turned around as she cleared the door, and in her hands, she held a tray with three steaming mugs on it. “Welcome back, Your Highness,” she said as she placed the tray on the table.
“Thank you, Celica,” Nicolas said as he reached across, wrapping his long fingers around the mug. He still wore his black gloves but had shed the large fur coat. He wore a black jumper and black pants. His clothes looked like they were freshly pressed. I still looked like I’d been dragged through Hell—which I had, to be fair.
Celica gave a mug to Elena, and she thanked her in her chirpy voice. I knew me and Elena wouldn’t get on; she was already grating on my nerves. I didn’t do happiness.
Then Celica’s eyes landed on me. “Oh my,” she said as she studied me. I didn’t blink but studied her right back, but finally looked away. Giving into my headache, I closed my eyes briefly. When I opened them, Celica was right there.
She actually looked friendly, but I had learned that looks could be deceiving. Her round, heart-shaped face was flushed. Her small blue eyes were soft; t
hey suited her round plump form. Her hair was blonde and tucked into a small, loose bun. She looked to be somewhere between forty and sixty years old. She pushed the mug closer to me.
“What is it?” I asked, not trusting her heart-shaped face.
“Why, tea. Have you never had tea before?” She sounded sincere, but I wasn’t buying what she was selling: kindness.
“Of course I have,” I snapped at her, and she flinched as if I’d hurt her feelings. I was in Hell, for Christ’s sakes, not Heaven. Yet her hurt looked real.
“That’s all for now,” Nicolas said, giving her a soft smile. She left without a second glance.
“You didn’t have to be mean,” Elena said.
I felt like I was missing something huge. Were these people for real? “I’m sorry. It’s just that I was kidnapped, my two friends are stranded in hell, I had to jump off a ledge to avoid zombies and then watch my best friend choke to death, I was nearly eaten by grey people, bitten by snakes, and locked up in a cage, all the while I had the company of Mr. Personality here, who sliced my throat the first time we met.” I wasn’t exactly sure where my bravery was coming from. I think it was the start of a breakdown. I looked at Elena. “So I’m not feeling very friendly.” I took a deep gulp of tea to try and stop the shivers that were assaulting me. My stomach cramped once the hot liquid touched it, and I could feel it rise back up my throat. I stood, knowing it wasn’t going to stay down, but fell to my knees, bringing it all back up.
“What’s keeping her at bay?” I could hear Elena ask.
“Alcohol. But it’s leaving her system.”
Elena studied me. “How long has she used it?”
I looked at both of them as they talked about me as if I wasn’t there. Wiping puke off my face with my sleeve, I stood slowly.
“Too long,” Nicolas answered his sister, but his eyes were trained on me. He let out a heavy breath, and the exhaustion that he had hidden so well became visible on his face. “She needs rest,” he said simply.
At once, Elena was there helping me stand. “Okay, let’s get you sorted.” I pushed her away, and she frowned at me. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Now she sounded insulted.
Maybe I was going crazy; I felt it, and nothing was making sense. Why were they showing me kindness? I didn’t get it. They wanted me for something, and Nicolas had gone through a lot of trouble to get me here. “Don’t touch me,” I said each word clearly so her happy little mind could understand.
Her face turned hard, just like her brother’s. At least now I could see the real Elena. “Fine. I am taking you to your room so you can get some rest. You look terrible,” she said, and her voice didn’t hold an ounce of warmth. I nodded my head in agreement, feeling a bit better that she had dropped the pretence. I didn’t need to think that anyone cared about me. I needed to be reminded what these people were, and kind wasn’t it.
She walked away, and I followed each step, my heart racing. But I didn’t let my fear show on my face. I needed to stay strong.
The corridors were eerily quiet as she led me down them, taking twists and turns. We went up some steps at the end of a corridor; we went down more steps. I would never find my way out of here. Maybe that’s what she intended. She hadn’t spoken a word, but stopped at a large wooden door. “You can stay here. I will send Celica up to help you bathe,” she said, opening the door.
“Don’t. I can manage myself,” I said, walking into the room, looking for a window. There was none.
“You’re not what I expected.” I looked at Elena. Her face held a disapproving look.
“You are exactly what I expected,” I spat back, thinking how much she was like her brother.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she took a threating step towards me, and I realized my mistake. Just because she was a woman didn’t mean she wouldn’t hurt me. I let the exhaustion and fear of this journey show on my face, hoping that if she had an ounce of sympathy in her, she would leave me alone.
“Just get some rest,” she said, leaving me.
I let out a breath of relief, frustration, and confusion. I just wanted to sleep, and the bed called to me. I looked around the room, and my eyes landed on what I was looking for—a chair. I stuck the wooden chair under the door handle, hoping it would keep everyone out, and I fell into the bed. Exhaustion tugged heavily at my mind, and I gave in.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I dreamt of gray-skinned people and the woman from the cage. She held me still as the gray-skinned man ate my legs, legs I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t feel any part of my body. I was paralyzed, but it didn’t stop me screaming as I watched him eat me.
I woke panting. My body was coated in sweat. The fear felt so real. My heart still pounded, and I closed my eyes, trying to calm down. I rubbed my face with trembling hands. I held my hand in front of me and tried to steady it, but it shook. I covered one with the other, but it didn’t stop it either. My stomach tightened, and I left the bed just in time to empty its contents into a small basin that was left at my bedside; I didn’t remember it being there when I fell asleep. My heart rate picked up as I looked at the door. The chair was gone. Someone had been in my room.
I tried to rise, but doubled over in pain, my stomach cramping. My body convulsed. My stomach retched, bringing up bile. There was nothing else left in my system. I was too weak to move. My cheek fell into my own puddle of sick. I moved my head so I was facing the ceiling, fearing of drowning in my own vomit. I had heard of it happening to people. My mind was seized with a shooting pain, which erupted in the front of my skull. The pain took me out of this world and into another of nightmares.
The second time I woke, I was in my bed. It was still dark, but my sheets were soaked in sweat. My long hair stuck to the back of my neck and my forehead. The only sound I could hear was the thumping of my heart. What was wrong with me? I froze as my last memory came to me. I had been on the floor. Pulling the sheets back, I let out a sigh of relief. I was still in the same clothes. At least no one had changed me.
The door creaking open made me bolt upright. Cecelia came in, a mug in her hand. “Did you put me in bed?” I asked with a quivering in my voice. My whole body was trembling.
Cecelia gave me a look of confusion and then smoothed it over. “No. Maybe one of the other housemaid’s did.” she reached out the mug to me.
Was she poisoning me? I folded my arms over my chest.
“It’s for your own good,” she said, pushing the mug closer. “If you don’t take it from me, then Master Nicolas will make you take it, and he won’t be as friendly.”
I scowled at her. “Master Nicolas? Give me a fucking break.”
She took in a large inhale of breath, looking truly outraged.
A smile grew across my face at her look of shock. “You can tell Master Nicolas that I am no fool,” I said, and then I held my breath as a wave of pain hit the front of my skull. I opened my eyes once it passed.
Cecelia’s face was filled with anger. It was a funny look on her; she opened her mouth to give out a retort, but was cut off.
“You can tell me yourself.” I froze at the sound of Nicolas’s voice. He stood looming in the doorway, his frame blocking out the small bit of light.
“You’re poisoning me,” I accused. He moved into the room, making it feel smaller than it really was.
His voice was angry when he spoke. “You’ve poisoned yourself; I am only trying to help you. Do you think I would drag you all this way, just to what? Place you in a comfortable room and poison you slowly?”
I looked away from his hard stare. He was right. It wouldn’t make sense. But why was I feeling like this? I felt agitated with these two righteous assholes that had kidnapped me, and now they were pretending to help. “I don’t want your help. I just want to go home.” A pain erupted, making me shut my eyes again, and I cringed back into the bed. I wasn’t sure how much more of this pain I could take. It seemed to go as quickly as it came, and right now it wasn’t dying away.
; I noticed the bed dip where someone had just sat down. “Bring me some warm cloths,” Nicolas said from beside me. What the fuck was he doing sitting on my bed? I wanted to scream at him, but the pain was now in my stomach, making it cramp uncontrollably.
“I’m going to…” I didn’t finish my sentence, but sat up. A basin was pushed under my face, a hand holding my hair out of my face as I brought up more bile into the basin. My breathing was ragged; my eyes watered with unshed tears. After a few moments, Celica rushed back in with warm cloths. She took the basin from Nicolas’s hand. His other gloved hand still held my hair.
I couldn’t meet his eyes with humiliation and anger. A warm cloth touched my face. The surprise made me look up at Nicolas, his eyes trained on my face. My stomach squeezed. Why? I wasn’t sure.
“I need you to drink for me. It will make it easier,” he said, as if waiting for me to agree.
“Let go of my hair.” my voice sounded hoarse. He did as I ordered; dropping my hair so quickly, as if it was something dangerous. Cecelia handed the mug to me, and I took it, bringing it up to my lips. It smelt funny.
“Take small sips,” Nicolas said, his voice soft. I didn’t like this Nicolas; I needed the cruel one, the cold one.
“You’re beginning to sound like you care,” I said in a sarcastic tone.
His face turned hard again. Good, I could deal with that. “Just drink it, Abigail,” he said, before standing and handing the cloth to Cecelia. He left the room without another word. I hated how he used my name. It sounded so personal. Too personal.
“Being mean to people that are trying to help you is silly,” Cecelia said. I was too tired to fight with her, so I just gave her a dirty look before closing my eyes. She sat down on the spot that Nicolas had vacated, dapping my forehead with the cloth. “Another day and you will start to feel better,” she said quietly.
My eyes popped open.
“How do you know?” My voice came out harsher than I intended.
