A Beautiful Torment (A Beautiful Book. 2) **ON HOLD**

Chapter Six - Flightless Bird

Charles:

Hot.

Cold.

Sounds brushed my ears. Light seeped through my eyelids. Pain... So much pain.

Images of Mara, so beautiful in her True Form, flooded my mind. Disorienting. Confusing. Fuzzy. Memories scratched my brain... Asmodeus, grabbing her by her ears, yanking her down. Me, barreling into the beast he had become and pulling him off of her. Pain in the back of skull. Stars behind my eyes.

And then nothing.

Blackness.

Am I dead? Normally, that wouldn't even be a thought that crossed my mind, but considering I was inches from Asmodeus when I passed out... It wasn't off the table yet.

Like a tidal wave crashing down, all my senses suddenly rushed back to me. Dampness seeped through whatever clothing I was wearing, coaxing goosebumps to form all over my body. I shivered.

The air was humid and stale, and my stomach clenched. Manny Pacquiao could have punched me in the gut and it would have hurt less than the realization that I was back down in the freaking dungeon I started off in.

A scuttle came from across the room.

I cracked my eyes open, groaning as my eyelashes stuck together with crusty goop. My head pounded like a gay bar on New Year's Eve, and as I sat up, the room swayed. My back burned. The room swayed some more. Finally stood still. I blinked.

A small mouse scampered across the floor, it's tiny claws scratching at the rock as it ran. A small ring of silver was wound around it's neck, but I didn't think much of it. I'd seen stranger things beside a mouse with a collar. When it noticed me, it stopped, turned its head one way. Then the other. It's whiskers and tail twitched.

How does Hell have mice?

As if to answer my question, the small rodent barred a tiny mouthful of small, jagged fangs of broken glass.

Well okay then. Ranjeet's problem, I see.

The golf ball sized monster hissed in my direction for good measure before scampering away into the shadows.

Glancing down, I was surprised to see I was still in my True Form armor, the blue metal glinting in the firelight. I felt like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. I'd definitely been caught out in the rain. My joints were stiff and I could really use a can of oil.

Har Har.

The bones in my hands and arms were still sharp, defined, and my nails were longer. Sharper. An indicator that I was still in my True Form as well. That's weird.

The burn in my back grew more intense with each passing second. It got so bad, beads of sweat formed above my lips. I tasted salt. The fiery sensation pulsed where my wings were, and I thought perhaps they burned away the feathers so I couldn't fly.

They'll grow back.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I shifted to my knees, reaching behind me to message the tender appendages. The stone bit into my kneecaps despite the armor protecting them. I reached and reached... Only to come up empty. Nothing but air.

What the...

I flexed the muscles in my shoulder blades, wincing as hot tendrils and pain sizzle through my skin. Something wasn't right... My back was far too light. I felt like a camel who'd lost its hump. My sense of balance was off too.

A gunshot went off in my brain, painful and absolute. As quick as a snap, I knew.

A cold fist of dread tore at my intestines in a grip made of steal. I felt hot and cold, all at once, like one half of my body was on the surface of the sun, and the other was drifting through space. Dead, yet every nerve ending in my body sizzled with denial. Was I going to puke? No, there was nothing in my stomach. So why did I taste acid in the back of my throat?