Chained by Darkness (Sensor Series, Book 2.5)

by Illene, Susan

  Lucas stared up at the ceiling and tried to tune out her voice. It didn’t work.

  “Will you shut up?”

  “Excuse me?” She had the nerve to sound offended.

  He decided her presence must be part of his torture program. Kerbasi had once frozen Lucas in a block of ice and at this moment that actually sounded like a better alternative. At least it would be quiet. Melena never rambled on like this woman did.

  “You heard me. I don’t want to hear your incessant whining when it’s your fault we’re here. You had to know this would be the end result for your summoning activities with Hell’s minions.”

  “He was a demon prince,” she hissed out. “I thought he could protect me from the angels.”

  “Like he did last time? That is how you got thrown in here before, correct?”

  She sighed. “It was a group of sensors who sent him back and ratted me out to the angels afterward. I thought I had that possibility covered this time—until you and your little bitch came along and messed it up.”

  Every muscle in his body went rigid. “You’d do well not to talk about her like that again. There are ways, even in this place, to make you eat your words.”

  She made a scoffing sound. “We’re locked in escape-proof cells. What could you possibly do?”

  “That’s one of your biggest failings—lack of imagination. Remember that I’ve spent quite a bit more time here than you. I’ve managed to pick up a few things during my visits that would surprise you.”

  “I seriously doubt that…” She stopped speaking as a slow, shuffling sound approached them. Her breathing got heavy as if she was about to hyperventilate. For someone who was over thirty-two hundred years old, she hadn’t grown much of a backbone during that time.

  When Melena had been captured by Variola, a vampire-witch hybrid, Lucas had been stuck in Purgatory for interfering in her life again. Since she wasn’t going to die, they wouldn’t let him leave to rescue her. Instead they’d forced him to watch by using his ability to observe her from a distance. Not only that, he’d been made to feel every blow she’d received and all the injuries that came with them.

  She’d been tough in the beginning and even taunted her enemies until the pain grew to be too much. After that, she’d broken. His own experiences proved everyone did—eventually. That had been the first time Lucas had seen Melena as anything but an unwanted responsibility. He wished he could have saved her, duty-bound or not.

  After her torture had ended, he’d watched as she comforted the friend she’d come to rescue, despite the grievous wounds still gripping her body. Lucas had never imagined a woman could be that loyal. It had been then that he felt his feelings for her shift. He’d never met a braver and more determined female in his long life. Zoe could learn a few things from the one she’d dared to call a bitch.

  Lucas peered through the bars and waited to see who would come down the tunnel. It took a few moments, but as they came around the bend a man he assumed to be Bartol staggered into view. The nephilim had a guardian on each side gripping his arms as he struggled along. Lucas winced at all the blackened holes in his body. They were oozing blood and puss.

  He must have gotten the hot iron treatment. Kerbasi had an iron poker he’d put in a fire he kept burning at all times in his torture chamber. Once hot enough, he’d take it out and poke holes all over his victim’s body. Lucas had felt the pain of it many times himself. He didn’t envy the nephilim who could barely manage to crawl into his cell on his own. Bartol had been here so long he didn’t need prodding to go inside it anymore.

  After he settled himself against the stone wall and the guards locked him inside, he took a wheezing breath. One of his lungs must have been punctured and hadn’t healed yet. In Purgatory, it took considerably longer to heal one’s wounds. Lack of food and water, low levels of oxygen, and manacles suppressing a prisoner’s power kept earth-born immortals in the weakest possible state.

  Bartol gripped his chest and winced. A full minute went by before he removed his hand to reveal a mostly-healed wound. It still had a pinkish tinge to it, but that would fade on its own. He’d have to close each hole one by one and there were many. His once strong form had become nearly emaciated during his long captivity.

  He lifted his head and met Lucas’ gaze. Bartol’s golden eyes were blank—not even a flicker of emotion flashed within them, but he managed to nod once before tilting his neck up to the ceiling not far above him. Long strands of what was once a healthy mane of brown hair with golden highlights now appeared dark and oily with strands stuck to his face and upper torso.

  He was probably due for one of Kerbasi’s infamous haircuts. They amounted to little more than a jagged knife sawing off the locks up to the ears with the periodic slip of the blade where it would cut something else instead. He joked that the blood he drew made for a good conditioner. Considering the guardian’s own silver hair was always clean and shiny, if a little unruly, he doubted even Kerbasi’s psychotic ass believed that.

  Lucas averted his face from Bartol, knowing he’d want to deal with his wounds without an audience. It’d take hours of concentration and intense pain to heal them. The ones in the cheek and neck would hurt the most, though Bartol might not be bothered by those as much.

  Kerbasi had done a number on the left side of his face not long after the nephilim had arrived in Purgatory. One of the first punishments he’d received was a permanent burn that marred what had once been features women all over lusted after. The skin on his left side, starting from the edge of his nose all the way to his ear and down to his neck, had literally been melted and then frozen into place. The burns ran up his forehead and into his scalp as well, though his eye had been left intact. Kerbasi wanted him to be able to see the damage—an eternal reminder of what seducing an angel had cost him. How it had been accomplished with a nephilim’s regenerative abilities was anyone’s guess.

  Lucas had been in Purgatory back then and watched the man go from rage to despair. Bartol had always been aware of his looks, and though he knew by then he’d be imprisoned for a century, he’d expected to come out of it and go right back to his old ways of womanizing again. The mirror Kerbasi brought him daily destroyed that possibility. Bartol knew he was more likely to scare women off than attract them now. It didn’t help that he hadn’t developed the ability to use glamour like some other nephilim did. There would be no hiding his scars from the outside world. They all had their strengths and that wasn’t one of his.

  The sound of several pairs of footsteps splashing through puddles reverberated through the tunnel. Lucas recognized the heavy stomp coming from one set of them. Kerbasi always liked to step loudly in an effort to strike fear in his victims’ hearts. Mostly, it had Lucas contemplating new ways to break every bone in his feet, which hadn’t been difficult the last three times he’d done it. The guards now wore heavy boots, but Kerbasi still hadn’t given up on his old Roman-style sandals. He preferred to make Lucas suffer for any damage he caused in the torture chamber.

  The guardian appeared in front of the cell and clasped his hands in front of him. “I trust the first day of your trial went well.”

  Lucas snorted. “I’m not dead yet, so I suppose you could say as much.”

  “If they do decide to execute you, I will miss our lively exchanges. It’s never the same when you’re not here.” He nodded at the guards and stepped back.

  Lucas braced himself. “I wish I could say the same, guardian.”

  Kerbasi smiled to reveal an even row of white teeth. “Oh, I’ll make sure our final days—however many remain—are fulfilling ones.”

  Chapter Four

  They took the usual winding passage down to the torture chamber. The air grew colder with every step. Two guards flanked Lucas on either side while Kerbasi trailed behind them. They’d allowed his wrists to remain chained in front of him, but they kept a tight grip on his arms. He hadn’t seen this pair before. They must have been reassigned from somewhere else in Purgato
ry. Even the natives grew bored if they had to perform the same duties for too long.

  Lucas figured he could do them a favor and liven things up a bit. He might have to hold himself in check with the angels, but they weren’t kept apprised of events that happened in Purgatory. Kerbasi and Remiel shared as little information between each other as possible. Much like two government agencies who avoided cooperating with each other.

  The guard on the right didn’t see it coming when Lucas jerked out of his hold and slammed him into a nearby tunnel wall. At the same time he kicked the other man and sent him flying. A loud crack resounded when that one’s head hit a rock. Lucas grabbed the first guard’s neck and twisted it until it snapped, letting the body slide down into a heap on the ground. He’d be out for at least a couple of minutes.

  A fist came flying from the left as Lucas spun around. He ducked before it reached him and swept his foot out, knocking the guard’s legs out from under him. This guy clearly wanted more. Lucas climbed on top of him and proceeded to punch him repeatedly until his face resembled something close to ground hamburger meat. It was tricky with his manacles, but the chain linking them was more than a foot long and he’d had practice at doing this before.

  “That’s enough, Lucas,” Kerbasi said, gripping his shoulder. “You’ve had your fun.”

  “Maybe I should turn on you next.” Lucas climbed off the now unconscious man. “It’s been a while since we fought.”

  Kerbasi shook his head. “We both know how this will end. I can call in a dozen more guards and have you down in moments. Why not stop while you’re ahead?”

  “When are you going to get it through that thick head of yours that I’m never going to submit to your torture willingly?” Lucas looked down at his clenched hands to find them covered in blood. His bare chest and legs were splattered red, too.

  The fight had barely taken the edge off the burning rage inside him. His court session had left him with the feeling that the end might be coming soon. Odds were against his being able to comply with the angels enough to keep himself alive—and find a way to protect Melena. He’d never been one to bow to others and starting now didn’t come easy.

  “I’d hoped you might consider it this time,” Kerbasi said. “I spoke with my contact in Alaska, a shaman who goes by the name of Charlie, and discovered some interesting news.”

  Lucas tensed. “What did he have to say?”

  “It appears he has regular contact with Melena and was able to provide me with some interesting information about her. If you’d rather not hear about the latest troubles with your sensor, though…” he trailed off.

  It shouldn’t have surprised him that Kerbasi moved fast to get intel on Melena. Lucas had never had a weakness before and the guardian wouldn’t miss an opportunity to use it against him. Now, like a fool, he was going to submit to torture just to hear whatever small bit of news Kerbasi had learned about Mel. Fuck. This was exactly why he’d avoided getting into this kind of situation before.

  “Very well, guardian, you have my attention.”

  Kerbasi grinned and swept his hand out toward the torture chamber entrance. “Excellent. Let’s get started.”

  Lucas spun on his heel and headed for the heavy steel door similar to the one that sealed the black hole. Except this one was often left open to allow a prisoner’s screams to escape. Lucas just wanted to get this over with so he could hear the news Kerbasi would no doubt hold back as long as he could. The guardian was nothing if not predictable. He’d want his victim fighting through a haze of pain first.

  Lucas shoved through the door and took two steps inside the room before he stopped. The chamber was as vast as those large box stores that were everywhere in America these days and it was filled with all types of equipment. Some were the typical pieces one might expect such as racks, vats of hot oil, and suits of armor with spikes that pierced their victims’ bodies once closed on them. Others were so unusual that even the human race hadn’t thought them up.

  He’d had the opportunity to experience each of them at one point or another. It was a definite disadvantage to immortality—too much resilience. Humans could only suffer so much before their bodies gave out. For those who didn’t die with such ease, it could be dragged out indefinitely until they wished for the gift of death.

  “You can go over there.” The guardian stepped up next to him and nodded at the far right side of the room. “Attach your chain to the hook hanging from the ceiling.”

  Lucas took a deep breath and strode to the designated place, passing by several torture devices along the way. He tossed his wrists up and looped his chain into the hook. With a loud clink, it locked in place with the latch attached to it. He wouldn’t be able to get himself free without Kerbasi’s help.

  No matter how many times he stood vulnerable in this room, waiting for whatever punishment Kerbasi would mete out, it never grew easier. He’d just gotten better over the centuries covering his emotions. It all came back to haunt him in his dreams, though. No man could truly hide from experiences that left him beaten, bloody, and broken—repeatedly. The best he could do was hide them so the rest of the world didn’t know what a mess he’d become.

  Of the few humans he could consider respecting, those who’d been prisoners of war were among them. There was always a haunted look in their eyes that gave them away. People who watched too many movies thought military training could harden a person so they could handle anything. It didn’t. It just helped them survive. Lucas identified with those who’d been taken captive by their enemies—even if he’d never admit it to anyone.

  Kerbasi spun a nearby wheel that pulled the hook holding him higher. It stretched his body until his toes barely grazed the ground. Then the guardian walked over to the wall and took hold of a whip with metal spikes attached to its end. Familiar, but unexpected.

  “Isn’t that a little tame for you to start with?” Lucas asked. Usually, Kerbasi reserved the whip for a final punishment if the prisoner’s body hadn’t been damaged enough after everything else.

  “It is,” he said, tightening his grip on the leather handle, “but obtaining the information on your sensor came at a price.”

  The guardian snapped the whip out and sliced it across Lucas’ back. Pain seared across his left shoulder.

  Lucas held himself still. “What price might that be?”

  Three more cracks came in rapid succession. Small spikes tore into his muscles and sinew with every strike.

  “Charlie asked that I keep your torture light,” Kerbasi said after a few minutes.

  Two more slices ripped into Lucas’ legs. He shut his eyes and fought to stay focused on what the guardian was saying.

  “Apparently your sensor has been having bad dreams that are suspiciously similar to your time in the black hole. The details he gathered from her are far too accurate for her to have imagined them on her own. It leaves me to wonder how you managed to bind her to you so tightly for such a thing to happen.”

  Lucas inwardly cursed and shielded his mind with what little strength he had left in him. Kerbasi did not need to learn what may have caused that problem. When he’d claimed Melena with his bite, he hadn’t anticipated this could happen. It had been something he’d done on instinct without considering the full ramifications. Feeding her his blood might not have helped either, but the results of that were still a mystery to him. No other nephilim had gotten away with doing it before, leaving him no precedent to follow.

  “I’m surprised,” Lucas gritted out between whip lashes, “that Melena would tell the shaman about her dreams…and even more amazed that he would relay that information to you.”

  The guardian lowered his arm. “She didn’t tell him—at least not without considerable prodding. He’d visited her home one night and discovered her suffocating in her sleep. Charlie refused to explain the details any further, but he was quite adamant that I keep your punishment light. He thinks your suffering is affecting her.”

  Fuck. This was even wor
se than he thought. His twin, Micah, often had dreams of Lucas’ confinement in Purgatory, but his brother hadn’t had these types of side effects. He only said it left him physically weaker in the morning, but nothing more.

  “Am I to understand that you’re whipping me instead of something more severe because Charlie requested it?” Never mind that it was hurting Melena.

  Kerbasi smiled. “Yes…but he failed to stipulate the timing. It’s late at night in Alaska right now. I’m quite sure she’s fast asleep as we speak and living every moment of this right with you. What is it the humans say? Two for the price of one?”

  “You fucking bastard,” Lucas growled, jerking on the chain. “I’ll kill you for this.”

  The guardian clucked his tongue. “We both know that’s not possible. Just shut up and take it like the tough man you try so hard to be. I’m sure your little sensor will survive. You wouldn’t care about her if she couldn’t handle a little pain.”

  Lucas struggled uselessly as the lashes resumed—harder and faster than before. With each strike, there was a possibility Melena was feeling them too. Somehow, he had to find a way out of this. He couldn’t let her suffer because of his choices, or worse, die as a result of them.

  Sometime later Lucas sagged against the chain, no longer able to hold his weight. Very little of his skin had been left intact below his neck and puddles of blood gathered on the floor at his feet. Thinking of anything beyond the pain was no longer possible. Kerbasi knew it and had finally gotten too bored to continue.

  The two men he’d fought earlier came and hauled him back to his cell. Neither Zoe nor Bartol looked him in the eye as he passed. The guards forcefully shoved him through the opening of the cell and slammed the cage door on him. The image of Melena lying in her bed with a twisted look of horror on her face was the last image he saw before he passed out.