The Shadow Walkers

Chapter Seven

For the next four weeks or so, it went by smoothly, so to speak. I received plenty of water by Malik, or other men, and I showered regularly-under supervision, of course. They only fed me once a day because it tended to come back up after my sessions with Wesley. Unlike the last time I was there, Wesley was the only one that I saw, though he had left me more drained than I had ever been before. I'm pretty sure that he took pride in driving me to near death, and then bringing me back, just to do it all over again.

Today was supposed to be one of those days. I had had a session only a couple days ago, but it seemed to them that a few days was ample time to recuperate from such a draining exercise. I sighed, sitting cross-legged on the bed. In no way was it comfortable, especially on the nights that I dreamed. The dreams of Anna had showed up regularly, but there were others. The ones about Darrel had confused me. They always included him being punished for something, though I could never figure out what. I knew he wasn't dead, though, because I saw him almost everyday. It seemed that he volunteered to bring me food. The only days I didn't see him were days when I went to Wesley. I couldn't help but be glad of my brother's presence, but he had chosen his side, and I had accepted that a long time ago.

The other nightmares that had woken me up were of Mitchell. I don't know what had happened to him after the ride here, and I desperately hoped that he wasn't dead. There was still a chance that I could save him if he was still alive, somewhere in this building.

I played with the handcuff weakly, as I had been doing constantly these last few weeks. I found that my bindings were the only thing real left in my life, and if I could cling to that on days like this, I might be okay afterwards.

The door creaked open and I stared as Malik stepped in. He hadn't said a word to me since the cab ride when I landed in New York, but by now I wasn't expecting anything more out of him. I had considered to try and run from him many times over the past weeks, but even if he wasn't a Dhampir, I wouldn't be fast enough to get away from him in my current state.

Sighing, I watched as he walked over to me. For such a big man, he was unusually quiet in his footsteps. It still shocked me how fascinated I was with Malik, but he was the first Dhampir I had ever seen, and I took the opportunity to compare him with humans and vampires. Obviously James had been human, that was clear, but Malik was a mix of the two-human and vampire-, and stronger than both. I had seen what he was capable of, especially one night when they had forgotten the cuffs and he had to lift the bed to find me.

The handcuff clicked and released my wrist and my left hand went up to rub it. There was a red circle where it had been, and a scar on the inside, from where Julian had cut me. That was two scars that he had left on me; the 'J' on my collarbone being the second one. Amazingly enough, the bites never scarred, and they healed within a few days, leaving no trace of their existence.

I stood up, fighting the sudden head rush, and stepped forwards towards Malik. He stood still, emotionless, until I reached him. Ushering me out into the hallway, he paused for a moment to lock the door. I couldn't help but notice that he had never done that before. When he finished, he turned back to me and placed a strong hand on my shoulder pushing slightly to get me moving. The halls were strangely abandoned, even for this time of day. There weren't even any humans scurrying around.

We passed a mirror on the way and I snuck a glance at myself. The flannel I was wearing had been washed multiple times, but it was impossible to get all of the blood out, and my face looked horribly gray. All of my bruises had turned a dull purplish color. My gaze moved down to my neck and I could clearly see the 'J' on the left side of my collarbone, which would be my right.

He urged me forward and we stopped in front of Wesley's door. I had a feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

As the door slid open, I felt a cold chill fill the room in its entirety. The large window that led to the terrace was wide open and sunlight poured through the room, although no heat had come with it. "Close it, Malik." I heard Wesley say, his accent sounded strained. Malik sat me down in the usual plastic chair and I caught a glimpse of something on the terrace. It looked like a body.

My view was cut off by the man's large form as he shut the door and closed the curtains. When he walked back to me, his hands quickly got to work binding mine together. Usually it was with rope, but today they had become more elaborate, with another set of handcuffs. I stared down at my hands until he left, and then looked up to Wesley, who had moved to the ottoman in front of me. I could vaguely see his arm, burned as it was, but I figured what had happened. It would heal, but only after a great deal of time had passed.

I turned my attention to his face as his uninjured hand reached up and cradled my cheek. It froze my skin all over and gave me goose bumps. "You've been underfed." He thought out loud, then formed a smile. "But of course you've been underfed! If you would cease throwing up after sessions with me, we might be able to feed you more." He gently pulled his hand down and traced the scar with his finger. "Still beautiful though, like a rose in bloom is beautiful, even with a few wilted petals.

"Who was that?" I shivered and motioned to the curtains.

"Out there on the terrace? That was nobody, just an old acquaintance that had disappointed me." He said, a smug look on his face. "No one you know, I swear."

"What do you want from me?" I asked him, my voice seemingly strong and indignant.

He raised an eyebrow as he stared, his eyes bluer than they'd ever been. "For some reason, my charms don't work on you, though they do on every other mortal. As you can tell, I am not sure why. You are so simple in dress and appearance, yet so immune to me. Here is my proposition." His hand stopped tracing my scar and clamped down on my shoulder in a tight hold. "Either you agree to join me," He paused for dramatic affect. "Or I drain you dry. Either way works to my advantage, but I'd much rather have you fighting on my side."

I was so shocked by his statement that I couldn't say a word. My thoughts were getting caught in my throat and I had to choke them back down before I could speak again.

"Now, I understand that you may have to think about this for a whi-"

"No." I interrupted him, and he just stared at me for a moment, taken completely off guard.

"Excuse me?" He asked incredulously.

"No." I repeated. "I will not agree to join you. I will never."

His face grew dark as he leaned forward on the stool. "Very well, then. It's your choice." He opened his mouth and I watched as the fangs got closer to my throat, knowing very well that there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was going to die.

My skin prickled, and I absorbed the pain in my neck as he bit down. I was beginning to get used to the pain, but there would always be some part of it that got me, well not after today anyway.

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{{Hey guys, I know this chapter kind of cuts off funny, but some more action is coming you way! Thanks for reading!}}