Mara the Wicked (A "Dead Seed" story)

Four: Blood Smoothie

How long had it been since she had been left down here? Mara was parched; her face and upper body hadn't recovered from the burns and blisters yet. It couldn't have been that long, a day? But to her it felt like it had been weeks. That could be because those fucking island songs had been playing on repeat the entire time she had been down here. Seven songs. On repeat. Playing over and over. Her brain felt jumbled. She was nauseated. She felt vulnerable and weak and ... almost human again.

She hadn't felt this way since she had been trapped in her house as a child with her abusive piece of shit step-father.

The sunglasses had slipped down her nose a little, her green eyes gazing over them, staring at the damned wall—the gentle waves, the sunlight (which felt too real with the heat lamp still on her—far enough away it didn't burn her, but close enough to mimic the awful reality of the sun), and the happy beachgoers.

Her wrists and legs were still strapped. She clenched and unclenched her fists repeatedly. In a trance. Minute after minute. Hour after hour. If she ever got out of here, she would kill him. The magic-restraining shackles were still over her wrists, beneath the straps. She was unable to use magic to get herself out of this. She had never felt so weak ... not since she had been a child.

She was singing along with "Kokomo" by the Beach Boys in a robotic tone when the door finally opened again. The music cut off and she closed her eyes at the sound of silence for a few seconds before her chair was turned around.

Aimeric was in front of her with some sort of drink in his hand. She thought she smelled blood, but she wasn't sure she could trust her senses at this point. He pulled his chair over to sit in front of her. He smiled. She glared.

"What thoughts are in your head, my sweet?"

"I'm going to rip your jaw off when I get out of here," Mara replied.

"How optimistic. Here." Aimeric held the drink up to her mouth, placing the straw near her lips. "It's a blood smoothie. Zoe makes them; they're delectable. She puts kale and spinach in them, I don't know the fuck why, it's not like we benefit from all that but she insists and we don't question her."

Mara sniffed at the drink, not caring to ask who "Zoe" was. She saw there were three crispy beetles garnishing the top of the bloody slush in front of her. It did smell good. She sucked the straw and was surprised at how good the icy blood was. She never would have guessed she would enjoy it in any way other than fresh out of a terrified human. Then again, she was so thirsty at that point (more so than usual since she was injured) she probably would have enjoyed blood in any form.

It didn't take her long to suck down the refreshing treat. As soon as she sucked the last of it, she began to feel better, more like herself. The blisters on her skin slowly went away; the burn stayed, but faded a little.

"I'll give you another day or so to heal before we continue." Aimeric stood, taking the cup with him.

"Coward."

"What was that?" Aimeric growled.

"You're a fucking coward," Mara sneered. "You're so insecure that you have to strap me down and bind my hands in order to beat me."

Aimeric hit the glass against the wall, breaking it into pieces. He took one of the shards and held it to Mara's throat. She raised her chin with pride. It's not like he could kill her that way.

"It's just more fun this way," Aimeric said to her, slowly cutting across her neck. She grimaced, but grinned at him.

"Yeah because your ego is so fragile you have to play this power-trip game. Let me go and we'll see who's stronger."

Aimeric chuckled at that, tossing the piece of glass to the floor. "Your arrogance is truly entertaining. How old are you? A year?"

"Two."

"You're an infant," Aimeric sneered. "You couldn't win a fight with a vampire like me even with your little witch hands."

"Prove me wrong then."

Aimeric stood straight then. "The time will come for that. For now, I have someone I'd like to introduce you to ... when you're healed, of course."

Mara growled, clenching her fists again. She thought she had had him; she thought his pride had been shaken enough he would release her so she could fight him one on one.

This time he didn't turn her to face the wall. He turned the light off and left her in total silence and darkness.

Mara was able to rest. Not comfortably, but at least the bright light was off of her, the music wasn't playing anymore, and she had been fed. She felt her body getting stronger over the course of the time she spent down there alone and in the dark. The pain on her face and chest went away completely.

She was fully healed. She was ready to fight. She just had to convince him to release her.

After so long in complete silence, she picked up on the sound of soft music being played from far away. It sounded like a violin. The music played from somewhere in the house. A haunting sound, like a spider weaving a web. It grew steadily louder and louder until the music was playing right outside her door.

The door creaked open and Mara grinned.

Standing in the soft light of the corridor was a child playing the violin. He was as pale as she was, his hair the silver color of the moon, and eyes that were black as night and cold as space. He stared at her while he played, not blinking. No expression. Just that lifeless stare.

"Who are you supposed to be?" Mara asked.

The boy didn't respond. He stopped playing and slowly slid the bow across the strings, then made the instrument make a screeching noise that pierced Mara's ears. She grit her teeth against the sound, wishing she could cover her ears. She cursed her bound hands. She tilted her head left, then right, covering one ear at a time with her shoulder. The boy screeched on, staring at her with those dead eyes, playing his squawking song with no emotion. He went on relentlessly for several long minutes. Mara screamed, trying to drown out the sound.

Finally, the sound stopped.

Mara looked at the child. The child stared at her. The violin and bow had been dropped to his sides.

"You're going to die," the boy said matter-of-factly.

"I'm already dead."

The corner of the child's mouth curled up as if some invisible string had raised it slowly. He walked towards her, his gaze never leaving hers. He switched on the light and she could see a smudge of blood on his pale chin. The boy stared at her for a moment and finally blinked for the first time since he had entered her presence. When he blinked, his eyes lost the blackness of the abyss and turned into icy stones.

"My father said I could play with you." His voice was soft, monotone; had Mara been human it might have sent her hairs standing on end.

Mara laughed. "This is his new technique? Sending a little kid to do his dirty work."

"I'm fourteen."

"You look like a kindergartner."

"I don't age like other children." The boy set the violin down on the floor near the medical tray.

"So Aimeric is your father? He has a problem with me feeding from children, but he turned one?"

"Not exactly."

Mara then remembered. "Your mother was that human."

"Yes."

"That makes you half? How does that work?"

"I'm bored," the boy replied. He picked up a scalpel and brought it in front of her. "What's your favorite animal?"

"A dead one." Mara sneered.

"I think you'd like elephants." The boy sat on her lap and began carving the scalpel into the flesh just above her breasts. Mara grit her teeth as the knife cut through the skin. Her fists clenched as she tried to keep from yelling. She was all for a little pain but even she had her limits.

If she ever got out of these straps, she would punt this kid right through a window.