Hellfire

Chapter Three

My dreams were familiar, despite how broke they were as they flickered beneath my eyelids. A floorboard above me, dribbling with blood, terror strangling me as I tried to make myself as small as possible. Roars of bloodlust and madness rattled above. Screams. Fire burned so hot it could devour me from the inside out, killing anything near me. It burned and burned, threatening to rip free from the chains that bound them. Then cold hands touched me, caressing my forehead, my cheek, my throat, lips brushing my ear as another larger body wrapped me up tight. A deep voice I knew and trusted purred close, deep and calming. Such a soothing voice. Such a cold touch. The terrors lifted from my mind and the voice and cold faded, allowing me to sleep. Restful and deep.

Then I fluttered awake and instantly wanted to vomit. It was like a hangover had settled over my chest - my stomach clenched with uneasiness, my skin felt sticky and warm, and my head span and span. I knew I was safe though when I peeked and saw the white walls and little window covered by sea-green blackout curtains. This room was my own, settled in the top floor of Vortigern's house full of my belongings - a bookshelf full of thriller and murder novels, videotapes of various British comedies and some sci-fi films, a guitar I had tried to haphazardly teach myself to play with Bella's help, and treadmill I had used to death. The room I had lived in for the longest time since I was saved and brought here at seven-years-old.

'Suffering?' A friendly but firm voice asked.

I forced my eyes open again and squinted in the dim light. A face met me, a man getting on his years, crow's-feet surrounding his mossy eyes, his neatly clipped hair more silvery grey than muddy brown, his thick moustache even more so.

'Arnold.' I groaned and shut my eyes to bury my face into my pillow. 'What time is it?'

He raised his wrist, tugging up his sleeve of his tweed jacket to observe his silver watch. 'Seven.'

I sighed in relief. That wasn't so bad.

'It's now Tuesday as well, in case you want to know that too.'

I grunted in disgust. 'I've slept two days?'

'You needed it. You had access to half your fire and were badly wounded.' Arnold said with a gentle click of disappointment in his tone. 'What were you doing, Susan?'

I ignored the sense of guilt filling me, grappling it and shove it down. I hated how Arnold could do that to me; a click of his tongue or gentle frown that made me regret my choices.

'Helping Alistair with a problem.'

'And nearly got yourself killed.' He pointed out and clicked his tongue again.

I hated that and I scowled at him defensively, almost sullenly.

'You should've informed me or Lord Vortigern about Alistair's transgressions. It was needless to do it alone.'

'Alistair didn't want him involved.'

'Well, he's involved now, and he's not happy.'

I didn't imagine he would be. I was his source of sanity and I'd been threatened.

I swept my palm over my forehead, shoving aside my thick fringe. 'What's happened?'

Arnold leaned back in his chair beside my bed, carefully picking up the glass of water and holding it out for me. He had that look that told me he wasn't going to what I wanted until I'd done what he'd wanted, a trait both he and his late wife, Bella, had and something he knew worked every time with me. I puffed out my cheeks in an annoyed rush of air and forced myself to rise, happy my skin felt warm but not on fire. I took the glass and downed it hurriedly. Abruptly I felt terribly thirsty, like my body had only realised how parched it was until water touched my lips. I slammed the empty glass on my bedside and watched him impassively, rubbing my mouth dry.