by Amy Cross
No-one can keep me from her; if they try, I'll destroy them and then I'll destroy their world.
Chapter Six
Felix
"Out! Get out! All of you!"
It takes all my strength, but I'm finally able to rip the bars from across the first cell. With the orderlies having been slaughtered by Dronigan, it's much easier now to focus on trying to find a way to release all the miserable wretches who have been held in this place; I'd hoped that we might be able to find a master-key or some kind of quick-release mechanism, but in the absence of either of those things we've opted for a more direct and violent approach: tearing Tor Cliff apart brick by brick and bar by bar until everyone is free.
"Come on," I say, stepping into the cell and finding a weak, thin-boned man sniveling in the corner. "You're free, but there's not much time. You have to get out of here."
I wait for him to answer.
"We don't have all day," I tell him. "Trust me, this is your only chance!"
Instead of leaping to his feet and rushing to freedom, the man simply stares at me. He's clearly terrified, and from his condition it looks as if he's been an inmate here for many years. I've never seen him before, but then again I've never seen many of the others; I've heard their cries and wails during the night, but this guy doesn't look as if he could even muster a call for help. He's simply staring at me and, after a moment, I realize that he's shivering with fear.
"It's okay," I continue, stepping toward him and reaching out a hand. "Whatever they've been doing to you, it's over. The people in charge... They're losing their grip, and they're distracted by other problems, so this is our chance to get away. I know it must be hard to trust me, but I swear, you have to try. Don't let them crush your soul."
He doesn't respond. Still staring at me, he seems to be waiting for me to hurt him. I guess it's been a long time since anyone tried to do anything kind or helpful for him, and he suspects that this is some kind of trick. Pulling his thin black shawl tighter around his body, he looks for all the world like a vampire whose mind has been well and truly broken, and as much as it pains me to admit such a thing, I can't help thinking that maybe there's nothing that can be done to him. Perhaps the damage inflicted by Dr. Cole has been so great that in some cases, the inmates are beyond help.
"Kill me," he whispers suddenly.
I pause for a moment. "No..."
"It's the only thing I want," he continues, keeping the shawl wrapped around his body. "I've been here for so long, I think they forgot all about me. No-one brought me food or water, no-one stopped at my cell door. They acted as if I was already dead, and I wish they were right. If you really want to help me, then kill me. I've been longing for death, but it won't come."
"I know it seems hopeless now," I reply, "but give it time. There are others here in the same situation -"
"Look at me," he hisses, slowly pulling the shawl away with a cracking sound to reveal that most of his body has been infested with spiders. They're everywhere, crawling in and out of wounds all over his torso, their legs clicking as they tear at his meat; some are even carrying strips of flesh, as if they're harvesting his body. After a moment, I noticed that while some of the spiders are feasting, others seem to be carrying chunks of the man's remains to the floor and then through a small hole in the wall. They've almost stripped him bare, and it's hard not to be aware that their work seems very organized, as if they know exactly what they're doing.
"How long has this been happening?" I ask, stepping closer.
"It began one night," he replies. "The first spider came, and when he liked what he found, he fetched others. They work on me all day and all night, never stopping, never getting enough."
"Couldn't you fight back?" I continue. "How did there come to be so many?"
"I die a hundred times every day," he whispers, "but something forces me to stay in my body. My soul starts to drift away into death, but something forces it back, no matter how hard I try to find an escape. I've twisted and turned, I've gone in every direction, but nothing works. The pain doesn't even mean anything to me anymore, but I still long for death so that perhaps I can rest. Can't you find some way to free my soul from my body? Even in a place like this, the insanity must end."
"Dronigan forbids it," I tell him, unable to stop staring at the spiders as they continue to strip the man's bones of all the flesh they can find. "He's lost his mind and broken into the building. No-one here can die, not until he decides to put things back to how they once were."
"Then I must find this Dronigan creature," he replies, suddenly reaching out and grabbing hold of the end of his bed, which he uses to stabilize himself as he attempts to haul himself to his feet. "Whoever or whatever he is," the man continues, "I'm sure he'll take pity on me when he sees me." He takes a tottering, uncertain step forward, and it's hard to believe that his ragged body is even managing to stay together. The spiders are beginning to panic, as if they're worried that their meal is suddenly on the move; I watch in horror as they scurry in and out of the holes in his body, tearing off bigger and bigger strips.
"Maybe you should wait here," I say after a moment. "Just try to rest, and I'll see if there's someone who can come and -"
"I must meet this man who forbids my death," he replies, reaching the door, "and show him the consequences of his madness. I should have died more than a day ago, but instead he forces my soul to remain in this body. I no longer care about losing my flesh to these spiders, but I fear that once they've consumed all the meat, they might find a way to take my soul. I just want -"
Before he can finish, there's a cracking sound from somewhere in his torso. For a second, he seems to be managing to stay on his feet, but finally his entire body falls apart, collapsing to the floor in a shower of bones and meat, while the spiders scatter.
"Help me," the man whispers, his voice sounding more and more pained. The black cloak has fallen over his face, so at least I can't see the mess that he's become. Figuring that he's beyond help, I step past his body and head back out into the corridor just in time to see that Nurse Silk has managed to get several of the other cells open, and bedraggled inmates are staggering toward the steps as if they can barely believe that they're being given a chance to leave.
"What took you so long?" she asks, glancing at me.
I stare at her, but no words leave my mouth.
"Felix?" she continues. "You look pale. Did something happen?"
"One of the inmates," I reply, not even sure how to begin describing what I just saw. "We have to find Dronigan," I continue after a moment. "This madness has to stop. There are people here for whom death is the only respite. They have to be allowed to pass on from their bodies."
"No-one can reason with him," she points out. "He won't listen."
"Then we have to get his attention somehow," I continue, turning to look back into the cell. The spiders have resumed their feast, hurrying under the cloak and then back out with the last scraps of meat from the man's body. I can hear him still whispering, begging to be released from this torment, but there's nothing I can do, at least not now, not here.
"Felix," Nurse Silk says after a moment. "We have to keep moving."
I want to do something to help the man under the cloak, but finally I realize that the only way I can relieve his pain is to ensure that Dronigan changes his mind and allows people to die at Tor Cliff again. Ignoring Nurse Silk's repeated queries about what happened in the cell, I hurry past her and start pulling open the door to another cell. For the first time since I arrived at this place, I'm starting to feel truly angry again, and I no longer even care about my own survival. All that matters is that the madness ends, and that this foul place is wiped from every map.
Chapter Seven
Dronigan
I can hear her now, calling out, trying to die.
After making my way slowly up the stairs, I finally reach the corridor that runs toward the main testing room. There's activity in there, and I can feel the beast's evil
even from this distance. With Abby's headless body in one hand, I smash my way along the corridor, knocking tables and chairs out of the way until finally I force my vast body through the door and into the room, sending timber and plaster flying in the process.
"You're late," the beast says, standing at the other end of the room while working on some kind of machine. He glances over at me, and it's clear that he doesn't really care too much about the fact that I've arrived. "Still," he adds, "you've swollen to an unbelievable size, so I imagine it's harder for you to move these days. Tell me, Dronigan, do you not think it might be better to return to your original form? I thought you were happy out there in the dead forest, picking off the waifs who strayed from the asylum while spinning out the dreams of those who remained in their cells."
"Where is she?" I ask, looking around the room but seeing nothing more than a few machines and sets of wires. My body is so large now, I'm starting to feel tired; it has been a while since I last ate, but although I know I should continue to hunt, I lack the energy. I'm starting to think that this new form requires a different approach, but so far I'm struggling to keep myself under control.
"If you're searching for Ms. Hart," he replies with a faint smile, "I'm afraid you're too late. Her head has been separated from her body, and all she's good for now is the final physical examination that will prize the darkest secrets from her mind. Don't worry, though. I've been working on the theory for a very long time. If everything goes according to plan, it shouldn't take much longer."
"If you hurt her -"
"What will you do?" he asks. "Eh, Dronigan? For all your power and bluster, what can you do to me? I created you, or at least I encouraged your formation out there in the dead forest. I certainly knew what would happen, so I allowed the dreams and nightmares of these lunatics to gather and take form. Do you seriously not think that I have a way of reversing that process? Give me good reason, and I'll ensure that your consciousness is dissipated. After all, there's nothing much to you, is there?"
"You're bluffing," I reply.
"Are you sure?" He smiles. "You're nothing but a collection of dreams and nightmares, Dronigan, held together by force of will. Do you really think there's not a force capable of ripping your constituent parts from one another and returning them to their original states? I've seen the way you pull threads from the minds of your victims. I can do the exact same thing to you, and there'll be no way for you to fight back."
I want to prove him wrong, but there's something about the beast that hints at great confidence. Although I take a step toward him, I finally retreat again, feeling as if Abby's best interests would be served by a more subtle approach.
"Where is her head?" I ask, holding up the rest of her body as I feel panic and fear start to grip my soul. "I came for her head!"
He laughs. "What's that straggly thing? A comfort blanket?"
"Give her to me!" I roar, taking a step forward but feeling my body start to become strangely heavy. I still haven't entirely recovered from Dr. Cole's attempt to drug me. The changes to my physiology over the past few hours have been so intense, I can no longer work out how I'm supposed to feel, but it's clear that my body no longer functions that way it once did. In many ways, I miss the days when I would do nothing more than wait in the forest, watching the asylum and anticipating that emergence of new dreams, but to go back to that simpler time would be tantamount to abandoning Abby, and that's something I can't possibly accept.
"Let me show you something," he replies, walking calmly to a nearby machine and opening the front to reveal Abby's head. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? This is the woman you think you love."
I take a step closer, but after a moment I stop in stunned silence. Abby's eyes are closed and she looks so peaceful, but there's a ragged wound in her neck where various devices have been plugged into her flesh, while a set of wires are running into her mouth, flashing and twitching as they relay information to a nearby computer. Her skin is horribly pale and her eyes seem to have sunk a little deeper into her skull, but despite the horrors that have been performed, it's still her.
"What have you done to her?" I ask, feeling as if my heart is about to break.
"I'm mining her soul," he replies. "Whatever's hidden in there, I'm going to find it and bring it out, and then I'm going to find a way to decrypt it. Why would anyone hide something so deep unless it was very valuable? Abigal Hart is a very unusual young woman, and whoever used her mind this way clearly knew that it wouldn't be easy to crack. Unfortunately for them, they didn't count on the fact that a greater mind would eventually come and take charge. The challenge was great, but I was more than prepared."
"Is she in pain?" I ask.
"Pain?" He pauses. "I don't know, Dronigan. Perhaps you can listen to her dreams."
Leaning closer, I realize that I can hear her mind screaming for help, locked in a cycle of perpetual pain, unable to reach the sanctuary of death. I want to help her, to find some way to free her from this madness, but for the first time in my existence, I feel myself sorely lacking in the required skills. I can keep her in this state of perpetual life, of course, and deny her death for as long as the universe exists, but in doing so I would be committing her to eternal agony. Although my heart can't handle the thought of losing her, I do not want to be the architect of her suffering.
"Do you really think you love her?" he continues.
"My heart aches for her," I reply, keeping my eyes fixed on Abby's face.
"But how do you know that it's really love?" he asks. "Could it not just be youthful infatuation? Face it, Dronigan; the idea of a beast such as you being in love with this vampire is pitiful. You don't seriously believe that she could ever feel the same way about you."
"I can't help that," I reply, trying to make sense of my emotions. Having lived a calm and repetitive existence for so long, I'm struggling to pick apart all the pain and fear and anger and loss that seems to be crowding my mind. Life was so much simpler back when my emotions were restricted, and I'm not sure that this change is an improvement. If I had never encountered Abby in the forest that night, things would be so very different.
"I'm so close," the beast says after a moment. "Whatever is hidden in her mind, it was locked away by someone who was determined to keep its presence a secret. Picking that lock is not the work of a moment, but my machines are inching closer and closer with each passing second. Once I've got what I need, you can have her head. I have no need of a ball of meat and bone; I'd probably have just tossed it out anyway, or fed it to the dogs, so if it gives you pleasure to have the damn thing, it's yours." He pauses again. "But only once I'm finished with my work, Dronigan. I've come too far to let you ruin things, so I'm afraid you'll have to be patient."
I want to hurt him, to make him pay for the things he's doing to Abby, but I know that there's no way I can stop him. My only hope is that if I wait long enough, eventually I'll be able to take her head and salvage as much of her personality as possible. I might never be able to put her back to how she was, but at least I can perhaps hear her voice again.
"Go wait in the corner," the beast continues. "I don't want you distracting me."
Retreating to the far corner, I keep my eyes firmly fixed on Abby's head. There's a part of me that doesn't want to see what happens to her next, but I know that sooner or later she'll be mine again, so I simply have to wait until the beast decides that he's got whatever he wants from her. As I squeeze myself tighter and tighter into the shadows, I feel as if my body is becoming smaller. Closing my eyes, I try to focus on the scream I can hear coming from her mind; although I do my best to console her and make her realize that things will be okay soon, it's as if she can't hear me.
All I can do is wait, and hope that her agony is over soon.
Chapter Eight
Felix
"Where do we go?" asks one of the inmates as he stops at the door. "We can't go out into the forest!"
"You can," I tell him, guiding him along with
the others. "Dronigan's not out there anymore. He's in the building, so all you have to do is make your way past the trees. I don't know what you'll find on the other side, but there has to be a route back to the world you came from."
"You're lying," he replies, resisting my attempt to get him to move. "You're trying to feed us all to Dronigan, aren't you? You've struck some kind of deal to empty the cells and deliver all of us into his jaws."
"If I was doing that," I say firmly, "I'd let you stay in your cell. Haven't you heard the noises coming from the upper levels? Dronigan's inside Tor Cliff, and he's hungry. Eventually he'll get down here and he'll go through the cells one by one, devouring everything and everyone he finds. If you stay there, he'll kill you."
"But how can we believe you?" the man asks.
"It's simple," I reply, finally getting him to the main door and pushing him out into the cold yard. Most of the other inmates are already out there, cautiously making their way to the edge of the dead forest so they can begin the journey home. "I let you out of your cells, didn't I?" I continue. "Why the hell would I do that if I was working for Dronigan? He could have reached into this place and taken any one of us in the past, but he chose not to. I know you might find it hard to believe, but up until now Dronigan has shown remarkable restraint."
"We won't make it," the guy says, turning to look out at the dark forest. "They say it's thousands of miles to the next town. We'll just end up wandering out here for days and days, and eventually something'll come along and pick us off." He turns back to look at me. "Even if you're right and Dronigan isn't out there, there'll be something else. Werewolves, or Golvs, or... Something! We'll be slaughtered!"
"At least you'll have a chance," I tell him. "The journey will be long, and you might become hopelessly lost, but you might also find a path that leads you somewhere safe. If you stay here at Tor Cliff, you're as good as dead, and it won't be a pleasant death either. Dronigan will get you, or Dr. Cole might yet be able to carry out more experiments."
