Reign of Blood

Chapter Eight

Today, when Chronos awoke, he wasn't in that dingy cell anymore. No. From what he could tell, he was in one of the higher levels of the castle.

Why had she moved him?

Around five metres away from him was a tall wall of ancient windows that spilled sunlight across the room, warming his skin. It was a nice change from those god awful cells, but it had nothing on home. Chronos woke up on his back, facing a ceiling. Above him, hundreds of feet up, stories had been painted upon the ceiling by a precise and careful hand.

Stories he didn't understand.

Stories that left him feeling sick.

In one, he saw a woman holding a baby. From her attire, she was evidently royal. In the next image, he saw the same woman hanging by her neck, a noose wrapped tightly around it.

If these were the stories witches told their children...

He tried for a look around the room and failed. Today, he'd been chained down to a table. His arms were tight at his sides, unable to move.

When he growled at thin air, Chronos got a feel for the size of the room.

Based upon the echo, they'd left him in a big, open space.

The real question was why?

Not five minutes later, he scented her. Rich bath oils and blood, again.

Her scent was driving him mad.

Not long after that, he heard the harsh pattering of her heels against a tiled floor. He focused his gaze on the chandelier, doing everything in his power to remain in control of himself.

To lose his control now would be a weakness.

"Good morning Chronos. Sleep well?"

What did the bitch want from him this time?

"You've changed the location."

"Hmm, I thought I'd give the decorators a break."

Decorators.

She'd done something.

"We're having your cell remodelled. It seems the workforce aren't particularly comfortable working around your snoozing body, doped up or not. I have a friend with an interesting description. He says that you're the supernatural Doberman biting at their balls. Since I have some spare time, I've had you relocated for the day. I've decided to give them a break and move you out of your cell until they finish the job. We wouldn't want them bollocking it up for fear of you, would we?"

Something told him he wouldn't be getting some nice new wallpaper.

"Excuse me for taking so long to ask- how are your lungs?"

Bitch. They'd done him in with the gas silver again. Like breathing in razor blades.

He'd always been told not to bring brawn to a magic fight. So long as they kept him gassed like this, he was completely at their mercy. At her mercy. Silver or not, he had a feeling that would always be the case.

Unless he killed her. But he'd have to keep his gaze away from her lips if he wanted to do that. It was a damned good job he couldn't see her right now.

"You're not very conversational today," She mocked. "Has the homesickness started to kick in? I hear it's quite the bitch."

"It has nothing on you."

"Hmm."

He couldn't crane his neck to see her, tied down like this. What was she doing? He knew she hadn't come here to talk.