Exile of the Clave

Exile of the Clave - Chapter 17

Nauseating pain and a splitting headache greeted Sera when she woke gradually from unconsciousness into her own personal hell. Her arms were brutally bound behind her, elbows drawn in toward each other with a length of rope that was suspended from the chains that ran up to the high ceiling above. Every breath was a struggle, and she tried to find better footing to relieve the stress on her shoulders, but she could only just reach the floor to stand on her toes. Short chains snaked around her ankles to a ring in the floor to keep her in place.

She felt a claustrophobic panic seize hold of her as she strained to find a position that would ease the pain, and her breathing quickened, increasing her terror as she fought to take a deep breath in the restrictive bonds. Don't freak out, she berated herself. Break out.

The cell was all too familiar as she tried to focus on taking in her surroundings to distract herself from her suffering. A pair of torches burned in brackets on the wall, illuminating the same prison she had shared with Rayce on her last visit to Alicante.

Idiot, she swore at Everett. I already escaped from this place once. Although her wrists were tightly bound, she was still more than capable of laying her hands flat to use iratzes to take care of where she had been clubbed. Then... vengeance.

Her head continued to pound and the searing pain in her shoulders didn't lessen as she waited expectantly. What the hell? She put aside all of her more inventive murderous thoughts for Everett and focused on the healing rune as she pressed her palms down again. She didn't feel any of the usual heat that came from applying Marks. Her heart sped up as another wave of panic surged through her. No, no, no!

Eyes wide and frightened in the torchlight, she whipped her head from side to side and fought down the rising sense of helplessness. This isn't happening. This isn't real. At the very edge of her vision, she caught sight of something etched into the floor, but she couldn't make it out.

She pulled at her bindings and screamed as agony shot through her body, and she started to seriously worry about dislocating her shoulders if she didn't get free soon. She panted anxiously, no longer able to hold the panic at bay, and her chest heaved with effort. Sweat glued her hair to the back of her neck as she writhed, and she felt her body overheating as dread consumed her. Trapped!

The heavy cell door unlocked behind her and she heard it open and then close. Straining to put as much weight as possible on her toes instead of her shoulders, Sera held still and vowed not to let anyone see her suffer.

"Sera, Sera, Sera." Everett clucked his tongue as he walked around into her line of sight. "Look at what you've gotten yourself into now." He wore a crisp, clean set of black Shadowhunting gear, and the winged hilt of a sword rose up over his right shoulder.

Pure, unfiltered hatred filled her golden eyes as she looked up at him from under the sweaty tangle of hair matted across her forehead. "I swear to God, I don't remember crawling into these chains myself, you twisted son of a bitch."

A wide smile spread across his face and he threw back his head to laugh out loud. "You're exactly the way I imagined you would be!"

Sera grimaced as she shifted unsteadily, but forced it to look like a smile instead as she breathed shallowly. "Sorry, am I supposed to know who you are?"

Annoyance darkened her captor's eyes before he recovered himself and reached into the heavy vest he was wearing, slowly pulling free a very battered, and very familiar, notebook. "Forgive me, it's just that I feel I've come to know you so well through these pages that I forget that we have not yet been formally introduced." He paused teasingly, watching as her smile was wiped away when she recognized her dream diary in his hands. "Everett Whitelock, though I can't say that I'm at your service, as I had rather hoped to put you at mine."