Feared

Fifty-Two: Empty

"That's my girl".

The words came to Charlotte as if through a dream. The voice was familiar, but the words didn't suit it. Blinking she tried to make sense of where she was, of what had happened. Her neck hurt. She lifted her fingers to the tender, bruised skin. Her vision was of James, his green eyes clear and empty. A wave of nausea rolled over her. She reached forward in a weak effort to push him away, but he deflected her easily, his leather-gloved hands cold against her skin. A smile caught his lips, triumphant, mocking, hurtful.

"Get away from me," she hissed. She was propped against a wall in a room she did not know. It was a great circular room with a thick ornate carpet and wood panelled walls covered in carved vines and branches. A great crystal chandelier hung in the middle, but apart from that the room was empty, as empty as James' gaze.

"Now, now Charlotte. There was a time you would have been glad to see me".

"Not you – never you," she growled. "I don't know who you are". James started to laugh, bowing his head, his neat hair perfectly in place.

"You know we could change all that," he whispered, tracing a gloved finger along her cheek. Charlotte gritted her jaw and stared past him.

"Don't touch me," she spat.

James stood up and shook his head. "Fine," he snapped, opening his arms out wide to show her the distance between them, but even as he did so Charlotte felt her limbs begin to move. Her body was lifted up until she stood opposite him, her body locked in a standing position. Her hand rose to her face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I really wish you weren't covered in blood. It's very unappealing," he grimaced.

"Stop playing games, James!"

"Play the game," he laughed. "That's all I've ever wanted you to do..."

Charlotte gazed at him. "This is not the game". The words were uncertain, a chill running up her spine as she stared at James.

"So I changed the rules... a little," he laughed, turning from her and walking across the room. She watched as he bent to the floor and retrieved a gun, the gun she had held in her hand until Cary's grip had caused her to black out.

He lifted it towards her and smiled his stupid head boy smile. Charlotte watched his finger tighten on the trigger. She couldn't move as the shot reverberated around the room. She heard it thud into the wall behind her, her breathing ragged, her heart pounding, but her body frozen like a statue.

"You tried to shoot me," he whispered. He readjusted the gun and aimed it at her again. He was right. She had tried to shoot him and if Cary's great bulk hadn't been in the way she might have succeeded. Just the thought of shooting him made her feel ill-at-ease and yet... She furrowed her brow, a smile playing on his lips. Her heart pounded in her chest, as she knew he didn't tend to miss this time.

"Where's The Mimic?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. James paused and tilted her head. She couldn't tear her eyes from the gun as he lowered it. A flicker of a smile passed over his features.

"Who?" he asked, stepping back towards her. She felt her muscles slacken and her body return to her own control. She wondered if this was conscious and she stayed as still as she could in case he hadn't realised she was free.

"You know who I'm talking about James. Where is he?" Charlotte watched James laugh, a slow chuckle to himself. They had discussed The Mimic too often over the few weeks since they had found him for his act to fool her. "Where is he?"

"You know I haven't heard that name for such a long time. I mean... at Kingston..." he trailed off, his eyes glazed over. It took a moment before he seemed to remember her, snapping his head up and fixing her with a bemused but vacant stare.

"What do you mean you haven't heard that name for such a long time?" she whispered, but James wasn't listening to her.

He paced back and forth a few moments, a preoccupied expression on his face. "Perhaps you deserve more credit than I gave you?" he whispered. He paused and she met his gaze, his green eyes. They weren't clouded, they were empty, cold. Nothing like the boy she used to know. His hands were relaxed by his side, black leather gloves covering his long, slender fingers. Had he always had gloves on? When he caught her outside the house had he been gloved?

He stepped towards her and just as he came within her reach Charlotte swung her fist. The impact caught him beneath the jaw and as he twisted from her she kicked him in the stomach. James doubled over with a grunt, but no sooner had she moved to strike again than she was sent flying backwards through the air and collided with the wall.

She rolled over and dragged herself to her feet, ignoring the pain of the impact. James was glaring at her, his green eyes burning. Blood trickled down his chin and his blonde hair was no longer perfect. And then she felt it so suddenly that she clutched her head in her hands, a pained cry breaking through her throat. Her alteration lashed at her as a wave of hatred and fear hit her so strongly she thought she would black-out again. It threatened to overwhelm her in that moment, yet almost as soon as she felt it, it was gone again, leaving nothing but the agonising pain of deprivation in her head and the empty presence of the man opposite.

She straightened herself up. Sweat clung to her forehead and her vision swam, but she tried to appear strong. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her legs trembling beneath her. Her gaze narrowed as she watched James smooth his hair back into place, his expression returning to calm disinterest. The empty, cold stare met hers, but the eyes were no longer green.

They were black.

"Ramsey?" she swallowed, her fingers trembling. "Where is James?"

Thanks for reading! I hope this has kept you wanting to know what's around the corner! Please let me know what you think and don't forget to vote! I really appreciate your support and your kindness! Sorcha x