by Stead, Nick
I had that sensation of the foul air rushing upwards through my fur as my body plunged down. The smell of fresh death was strong in my nostrils, as if David’s trap had recently caught more victims and their bloodied, broken bodies lay waiting to welcome me to a similar fate. I couldn’t help but feel that I was falling down into Hell itself, which is probably what David had intended. And yet, in truth the fall wasn’t actually that far and was over in a matter of seconds. It just felt much longer.
Instinct had me land in the same crouched, cat-like position I’d favoured every time I’d jumped the last two stairs of my human home. Unfortunately, this was one instance where instinct failed me. Pain exploded through my limbs, the dull, persistent ache of broken bones and the sharper, stinging pulse of torn skin screaming its message along damaged nerves.
An animal yelp was torn from my throat as I fell to my side, unable to keep my weight on my ruined arms and legs. There I lay, whimpering pitifully in blackness every bit as complete as I’d started off in. I might have developed a greater pain threshold but even so, I still had my limits. And at that point, after everything my body had been through over such a relatively short period of time, it proved to be too much.
Blissful freedom beckoned in the form of unconsciousness once again. I sank into it, desperate for the brief respite it offered.
I found myself floating back in that darkness that seemed to be of my own inner being. It was just like when I’d been fatally wounded by the gunshot out on the moors, and snatched from Death’s grasp by witchcraft. And just as I’d experienced then, another presence invaded my own little pocket of reality where I existed apart from the rest of the universe, free of my own earthly body and all its aches and pains. Except this time I recognised the voice and I welcomed the presence of the woman it belonged to.
“Nick,” Selina said.
“Selina?” I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she could hear me. I hadn’t attempted to speak to her before and I was aware I wasn’t really speaking, so much as I was projecting my thoughts in the hopes she could pick up the telepathic communication.
“I’m here.”
“Thank God for that! What about my sister – the girl in the coffin, is she in that room with you?”
“She is. The Slayers have us trapped in here, not just by physical barriers but mystical ones as well. They had a competent spellcaster helping with the design of this place.”
I’m not sure if it’s accurate to say my heart sank, given the state of being I’d entered into, but I had some kind of mental equivalent to that emotional reaction. “So you’re cut off from your witchcraft?”
“Not entirely. I can still work spells, just not anything that could break me out of this prison. The warding they’ve used will counter my magic if I try to use it against the walls of my cell.”
The mental equivalent of hope took hold. “Then you can use witchcraft to help Amy?”
“I’m sorry, Nick. She’s too close to death – there’s nothing I can do.”
My hope withered. “Can’t you do for her what you did for me?”
“No. And besides, you would not want that for her.”
“Why, just what exactly did you do to me?” If I’d been in my physical body, I might have snorted at that. “No forget it, I don’t want to know. But you better do something for Amy or I’ll kill you, along with every other being in this place, ally or not, or die trying.”
“If I had access to all the tools of my craft and a sacrifice, maybe it would be possible, but while I’m trapped in this room there is little I can do.”
“Little? So there is something?”
She paused and for a moment I feared she’d left me, but then came the question “Is my sister here? Have you seen Sarah?”
“Yeah, Lady Sarah is here.”
“Alive?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Can’t you sense her with your magic?”
“It’s hard to tell with vampires; they so often appear dead to my witch’s senses, even when the state of undeath goes on.”
“She was lying in a room I passed a while back but I never found the way in before winding up here.”
“Then I will make you a deal. I will risk everything to save your sister, if you will risk everything for mine.”
“I can’t abandon Amy. I need to find my way back up to you. We save her, then we’ll go find Lady Sarah.”
“No. If I do this, you must leave Amy in my hands and go to Sarah. I believe the Slayers will have kept her alive, since we all yet live. I will save your sister, if you will save mine. Those are my terms.”
It didn’t seem like I had much choice. But I was loath to entrust Amy’s life to the witch when I knew so little about her. Not that my being there would make either me or Amy any safer. I was as vulnerable to witchcraft as any human and I knew nothing about the workings of spells – I wouldn’t know what Selina was casting until it was already too late. But I didn’t want to leave Amy’s side when she was so close to death, and it was with great reluctance I agreed.
“Okay. What about Gwyn, is he with you?”
“Gwyn? I don’t know anyone by that name, but whoever he is, he is not here. There is only your sister, lying in the coffin that brought her through to my prison. I sense no other beings in this room with me, and the wall has resealed since the coffin slid inside.
“No more questions now. Time is short. I will tend to Amy and do what I can to keep Death at bay. But you should know, I can’t guarantee I will be successful. We could both die. I’ll do everything in my power to uphold my end of the bargain though; I give you my word.”
With that, the presence withdrew. I wanted to call her back, shout for her not to leave me, but I knew I had to let her go for Amy’s sake. That left me stuck in wherever it was I currently floated, unsure how to re-enter my body, as physically painful as I knew that would be. But I had to find a way back and face the agony of my flesh once more, if I wanted Selina’s help. I felt certain she’d know if I didn’t honour our deal.
When I’d found myself in this state before, it had been Selina who’d led me back into my physical self and life on the mortal plane. Without her guidance I was lost. Was it a case of simply willing myself back? No, that didn’t seem to be working. What now, then?
I tried mentally reaching out for something other than that blackness, like a blind man feeling his way along unfamiliar territory again. It was hopeless. There was only my thoughts, and nothing else. I couldn’t sense anything physical – not the pain of my broken bones, nor the surface I’d landed on, nor even the air on my bare skin. Would I be trapped in this state until Selina came back for me?
I was about to give up, when something changed. It was like the tendrils of thought I was casting out brushed against whatever it was that usually anchored me to my physical self. I thought I could see a light, though whether it was really there was anyone’s guess. It seemed like the only way forward though, so I floated towards it, bracing myself for the shock of my consciousness reconnecting with all those damaged nerves.
The pain didn’t come. A deep breath sighed through me, as if I’d merely been asleep and was waking from a dream. The feeling gradually spread through my body, from my head down to my toes. It was as though I’d become a spirit, leaving my body to explore that other place and now re-entering through my skull, slowly stretching out and refilling all the corners of my fleshy home. There was no blinding white light as there had been when Selina had saved my life, and when I opened my eyes it was to blackness once more. But the agony of my broken limbs seemed to be gone.
Gingerly I flexed my fingers, expecting the pain to return at any moment. When it didn’t I became bolder and got to my feet, only then realising I was in human form. I must have gone through another unconscious transformation, though I was surprised I was human and not wolf, since my body had been mostly humanoid when I’d damaged it. I would’ve thought the bones would need to become lupine to heal. Unless I’d somehow managed to allow th
e change to go just far enough to wolf to heal the damage, and then reverted back to human form. But if that was the case, God only knew how I’d managed it when I’d not been conscious. Not that it mattered. I was healed and free of pain, and I was grateful for it.
My thoughts turned to Gwyn and I tried calling for him, wondering if he’d followed down in his spirit form. Was he lurking somewhere in the darkness, or had he forsaken me?
There was no answer. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing, though I would’ve been glad of his guidance to reach Lady Sarah’s chamber. The quicker I could get her to Selina the better, so I could return to Amy’s side and watch over her while the witch worked her magic. If Selina hadn’t already finished the spell by then, that is. And if she had and it was successful, all the more reason for me to be by Amy’s side. My sister would no doubt be terrified when she woke up. I needed to be there for her, to offer whatever comfort I had left to give.
Then again, Gwyn had obviously known about the trigger in the coffin. Had he known the mechanism would open a trapdoor beneath my feet? I still hadn’t figured out how he had such in depth knowledge of this place, but I thought it unlikely he’d be aware of one and not the other. So if he had known, why hadn’t he warned me? The only explanation I could think of was that he was in league with the Slayers after all, despite the apparent help he’d given. Maybe it had been David’s plan all along, to give me some false hope of saving Amy, only to find out it was too late for her as the message had said. If that were true, he’d clearly underestimated Selina’s power. All hope was not yet lost.
Once I’d accepted that I seemed to be alone in the room, there was nothing for it but to blindly feel my way around yet again. My other senses were still no use in trying to learn more about my surroundings. Not with the ever present, overpowering stench blocking out any other useful scents I might have detected. And the room was silent, save for the sounds of my own body. Wherever the smell of fresh death was coming from, it couldn’t be a pile of victims killed by the plunge, or I’d surely have bumped into them already, if not landed on them when I first fell in. No, the area around where I’d fallen seemed to be clear of any grisly surprises. I had a feeling I’d blunder into whatever horrors this chamber held if I searched it for long enough though.
Heart pounding, I took the first step into the unknown. New pain greeted me the moment I placed my foot down, sharp and immediate. It stabbed through flesh and bone and ripped another cry of agony from deep in my chest. Light also came rushing in, revealing the same room I’d passed before with its fresh meat hanging over pools of blood.
It turned out the chains suspending the meat were spiked. There were also several empty chains, offering nothing but torment. Climbing them would be about as much fun as walking across the wicked points lining the chamber floor.
The area I’d fallen into was mercifully free of the metal fangs. But I would have to endure the pain of walking over them, if I wanted to escape this room and continue through the dungeon.
On the wall to my right were more words daubed in blood.
Level Four
I took all this in through squinted eyes, teeth gritted against the pain. The meat was still fresh enough to serve as a tantalising offering, if I would just suffer the damage to my flesh required to reach it. But it no longer dripped with blood, or I might have guessed where I’d fallen into before the light had shown the room to me.
The hunger rose up again. It had me considering going after as many of those succulent treats as I could physically manage, before pain and exhaustion got the better of me. Would it be worth it though?
Knowing I was in for a considerable amount of bodily torment no matter what I did, I tried to make a quick mental map of the best routes to get across the room. The chamber was much bigger than what little I’d glimpsed from the passage had suggested, the spike free area I’d fallen into just a few inches from the wall furthest from the door. To my left was what looked to be the narrow passage leading into the room from the tunnel I’d first started in, with the bars presumably still in place at the end of it. Technically that would have been the least painful route out of the chamber of torment, but somehow I doubted it would be that easy. And even if I was able to escape that way, I’d eventually end up on the wrong side of the room holding Lady Sarah again, which was no good if I wanted to keep to Selina’s bargain.
It looked like I was going to have to endure the greater pain of crossing to the far side of the room. But it wasn’t just a case of making my way straight across. Placing the door opposite where I’d landed would have been too easy. Instead, David had made sure I would have that little bit of extra ground to cover, placing it to the right side of the far wall. And just to add to the challenge, a few shallow pits had been created to prevent me simply taking a straight, diagonal path to freedom.
There was one close enough for me to see down to slightly longer, thicker spikes waiting within, promising even greater pain than their smaller cousins were already inflicting on my foot. I could probably have jumped across, but I’d be in for a world of pain when I landed on the spikes on the other side. Walking over them was one thing; jumping from one section to another seemed like a quick way to cause myself a lot of extra, unnecessary damage.
So I weighed up my options for going around the obstacles. The quickest way to the door wouldn’t take me within reach of any of the chunks of meat, and it wouldn’t be as simple as just grabbing my prize when I got close enough to it either – it hung too high up for me to reach from the floor. The only way to grasp it would be to climb the lower hanging chains which held the promise of nothing but pain, if I wanted to reach the hooks with their offerings of pleasure.
I briefly considered trying to swing across the chains to grab all the pieces on offer and cross the room, but I decided that would result in a lot of extra injuries as well. Walking over the spikes seemed the lesser of the two evils. I’d be able to take more care to avoid too many wounds that way. Plus I had to account for the cost of repairing that damage. If I was too greedy and sustained more injuries than was necessary, by the time I’d spent the greater amount of energy on healing I probably wouldn’t gain any benefits from the food my body craved. So in the end, I decided my best bet was to take a slightly longer route to the door, one which would allow me to grab the three biggest chunks of meat without taking too many needless injuries. That would probably grant me a little extra boost to help ease the hunger, even after healing, and help keep me going when there would no doubt be more shapeshifting to follow.
My foot was still where I’d placed it, impaled on the spikes and leaking blood. It took a great deal of willpower to move forward. I gritted my teeth against the throbbing in my right foot and raised my left, clenching my fists in anticipation of the similar pain my next step would cause. The thought of Amy drove me to place it down, and I couldn’t help crying out again.
My tread was marked with tears of crimson. They rolled down bare skin, already darkened with old blood. Only the sheer strength of my will kept me upright and moving forward, my mind all too aware that collapsing was not an option. So I forced my ruined feet to take my weight, shifting my balance to my left foot and carefully lifting my right.
There came a fresh wave of torment as the spikes slid back through the holes they’d created. Then my foot was free.
It was somewhat disconcerting to see right through my ruined body part as I tried to align it with the next few points, hoping to cause minimal fresh damage as I moved along each time. The raw flesh was dark in the faint light, the bone pale where it showed through. I tried to distance myself from the pain as best I could, trying to convince myself it wasn’t my own wounded feet I was looking down at but some other poor sod’s. And besides, had I not already been through, and seen, much worse before? But I wasn’t entirely successful.
My progress felt so painfully slow, the spikes I still had to cross seemingly stretching for miles ahead. I turned my thoughts to what I would do to David wh
en I eventually beat this sadistic game he’d devised. The heat of my anger helped bring renewed strength to go on, adrenaline and rage probably the only things keeping me going at that point.
I was moving closer to my goal. The meat I was aiming for was just out of reach now, glistening invitingly above my head. My mouth watered. Maybe I could jump up for it? No. Now was not the time to grow careless.
The crimson pool beneath it was still and calm. More spikes breached the pool’s surface, like the back of some hideous sea monster lurking within. The chain I would have to climb to take my prize looked even less inviting. But the hunger had grown so strong that it might as well have been a separate entity taking possession of my body, one I was powerless to fight any longer. There was flesh to be had and I would claim it, suffering or no.
Sharp metal points bit into the soft flesh of my palms and the underside of my fingers as I took hold of the chain. I roared my displeasure, but the hunger was more persistent than the throbbing of my nerves. So I began to climb, painful inch by painful inch.
With my lycanthropic strength, it was fairly easy to grip with my hands only, saving my already ruined and aching feet from any further damage. But I was acutely aware of the risk of injury to areas other than my extremities, the chain swinging too close for comfort towards my vulnerable, naked flesh. As agonising as it was to hold on, I forced myself to keep a slow and steady pace, doing my best to keep the spikes scratching anywhere else as I pulled myself upwards.
Blood ran freely from my injured hands, my skin and the metal beneath slick with it. If it weren’t for the spikes to aid my grip I would probably have slipped back down to the fresh torment awaiting below, but then again, if it weren’t for the spikes, my hands wouldn’t have been bleeding in the first place. Though it could have been considerably worse – if David had designed them to go right through my hands then I probably wouldn’t have had any grip at all.
