Animals ✔

Chapter 19

I wake in an unfamiliar room.

When I try to sit up, it feels like my head weighs a thousand pounds. I can barely hear, as if my ears are full of cotton.

My stomach roils suddenly and I lean over the edge of the bed just on time to puke up the contents of my stomach. I press my face back on the cool sheets, not bothering to shift my position. I simply don't have the energy.

The room is spinning and I try to lay as still as possible as I wait for it to shift back into focus.

My mind is fuzzy. I can't remember what happened after I followed Jon into the woods. All I know is that I've never been here before—wherever here is—and that's a bad sign.

And what about Jon? Is he okay?

I feel myself start to panic at the thought and roll over onto my back. My head lolls to the side and I can't seem to control it.

I don't know what's wrong with me. Panic rises in my chest as I draw short, quick breaths. I don't know how to calm down.

As I lay there, my heart pounding erratically in my chest, I feel for the fire.

But I can't find it.

Tears stream down my cheeks now. For so long I wished that I never had the ability call the flames, but now that the fire is gone I feel like I'm missing a part of myself, a part of my soul.

Everything in the room is white, sterile. Without moving my head, I can see one door. No windows.

I grip the sheets beneath me tightly in my hands. How did I get here?

I was fighting with them—that I remember. And it was exhausting. Jon was with me.

And then the howl. Tiberius. I gasp, my breath catching in my throat. He was hurt. I need to know if he's okay.

But I can barely even move, let alone find Tiberius.

My head throbs and I wonder if I'm somehow concussed. It would explain why everything is spinning... but not how I got here in the first place.

I'm not sure how much time passes as I try to gather my bearings. Maybe just a few minutes, or maybe a couple hours.

But then the door creaks open.

My eyes snap to it, straining to keep it in sight as two figures draw closer to the bed I'm on. They don't bother to close the door, probably well aware by now that I'm barely in control of myself as it is.

As they near me, I realize the figures are men. Men I've never seen before. The brawnier one steps up to the side of the bed and reaches for me. I panic, forcing myself slap at his hands.

My blows are weak and he traps my wrists easily in one hand. I try to kick him then, but I don't even make contact as he uses his free hand to sling me over his shoulder.

"Ugh," he groans, "heavier than she looks."

His companion laughs, and I desperately want to try smacking him again, but I can't even lift my face from where it's pressing against his back. My arms dangle helplessly past my head.

They take me down a long hallway with dark, hardwood flooring. Eventually, I hear a door open and close, and I'm thrown unceremoniously into a leather wingback chair.