Watcher in the Darkness, Book 3: Imprisoned

Chapter 19

When I came to, I had no idea where I was. I really hate that.

My thoughts had to wind their way through the cottony pain crammed into my skull, but the first thing to strike me was the smell. The combination of perfumed oils, herbs, and incense coated my tongue like fine powder. My eyes felt as though they'd been smeared with cooking oil, but I could make out a nearby shelf lined with jars. Several racks of clothing swam into focus, then some weird potted plants. Silk tapestries hung on the walls, embroidered with colorful patterns, but I couldn't tell what they were. The only light in the room came from the four tea candles placed at the cardinal points of the summoning circle I was sitting in.

Oh, and I couldn't move. Like, at all.

My hands were bound at the wrists to the arms of a heavy wooden chair. The ropes were tight enough to restrict movement but not so tight as to cut off circulation. Same token with my feet, which were tied to the chair's legs. Clearly, someone didn't want me to get up, but cared enough about my comfort to put a thick cushion under me. Some kidnappers are just more considerate than others.

I had three gaping holes in my chest. One was in my ribs, just below and to the left of my heart. The second pierced through my diaphragm, which made taking a deep breath suck. The third was lower, in my side. I could feel the through-and-through holes in my back, plus one extra.

Talons. Between the bridge and the river, I'd been snatched out of the air by an enormous flying creature. I guess that explained why I wasn't being digested by river nixies.

The talon marks barely hurt, which meant that they'd been there for a while. They burned more than anything, but they were open and weeping foul clumps of blood. What did that mean? Infection? Vampires didn't get infections. Had I been poisoned?

Most important of all, why was I bare-chested? Why do the people that take me hostage always remove my shirt? It's fucked up, is what it is.

I heard a door open then close behind me. Footsteps whispered in my direction, then a slender figure stepped into my line of sight. The demon bitch from the bridge floated past me. She tiptoed around the edge of the circle, all pale skin and rippling red hair.

"Hey," she said, as though delighted to see me. "You're finally awake. How are you feeling?"

My arm jerked as my hand clenched into a fist. "Where am I?"

"I brought you back to my home. I hope that's all right. I needed a comfortable place to work, and the walls are soundproof."

Fuck you, you festering cunt, my brain snarled, but the filter in my mouth somehow managed to catch it. "Let me go."

"Sorry again, but I can't do that." Her sing-song voice did nothing to soothe my temper. In fact, it had the exact opposite effect. "At least, not quite yet."

"I'll rip out your fucking throat, demon."

She clucked her tongue in sympathy. "Poor thing. I know it hurts. It will all be over soon, I promise."

So, she was planning to kill me. The back of the chair cracked as I threw my weight against it. My seat began to tip forward, but the demoness waved her hand. I was caught by an unseen force then my chair was set right.

Goddamn it. "Release me! Do you have any idea who I am?"

The demoness tilted her head. "Do you?"

My eyes narrowed as my claws gouged into the arms of the chair. I hoped that its value was destroyed. "Who are you? Why have you brought me here?"

She smiled, and I noticed that she had a bit of an overbite. "Which question do you want me to answer first?"