Skulduggery Pleasant Fan-fiction- Love Amongst The Cain (Sequel to The Cradle Of Magic)

Breaking Bonds and Forming Alliances.

-Sci

The dense and finely mildewed air caught in my trachea as I struggled for a harsh breath, blood soaking keenly down my neck as my vision blurred and stars fogged my vision. The ringed rope around my wrists tarnished with congealed blood, pain and angry burns causing it difficult to move and exhale. A slick compound of sweat and liquid scarlet had set across the deep cut into my neck and slopped unevenly across my neck and torso other cuts forming to a pool of acid and blood at my bound and bare feet.
None of this mattered however. He was hurt.
He was hurt and there was no way of getting to him.
I cried through a harsh and brittle sob, mustering volume and trying to lead my voice up the open, concrete staircase ahead of me. They had, classically, tied me to a chair in the cellar of an old house. That was all I had seen of this place of course. It was all alarmingly quick as if they were hiding from someone and their plans had become tethered. It certainly gave that impression; what with the lack of professionalism into torturing methods and all.
My heart beat alacritously against my chest and my mouth had become bone dry. I needed to move, I needed to escape.
For him.
The floor around was marked with symbols of a pale blue chalk, contrasting definitively with the bleak surroundings around.
He could be hurt.
My thoughts ran fast through my head, looking towards the items I had:
Rope. Chair. Knife left pocket- Probably taken. Gun- Gone. My dark jacket lain strewn on the floor before me and merely a pair of armoured jeans and a singlet covered me. My boots were taken and my hair strewn across my face in a slick formation of blood, sweat and locks.
Think.
He could be dying.
My mind scanned the night before: We sat in his apartment, his hand on my lap as we both wore nothing but our underclothes, his tanned and bare torso tight and finely toned but stricken and worried like the facade of his face.
"It could be a trap, Sci. I know we've discussed this before but-"
"No." I had finalised, ignorance thriving. "I trust Skye and you need to trust her too, Anton."
For I did, although there was little left of that now. She had betrayed us, for whatever reason I was yet to discover.
He sighed and pulled my cold body close, letting his chin rest softly and delicately onto my shoulder. I felt his soft lips press to the skin of my neck and a thinned shudder ran through my spine.
"I love you." I felt myself murmur, a soft moan escaping my lips as he reached a certain point of heated skin beneath my jaw. He pressed his lips to mine and I felt myself melt into his, my hands roaming over his chest automatically as his hand cupped to mine and he looked softly into my eyes, gingerly pulling the jewelled ring from my finger and displaying to my eyeline. He kissed it softly and drew his fingers so they met with the near edge of my bra, sliding the adornment into the tight rim.
"In case something happens." He gave a nod and swallowed, his face still bearing worry. I took his jaw to my soft palms and kissed him hotly, pushing him back and running my thumb over his tight cheekbones.
"Nothing will happen." I replied.
How wrong I was.
He could be dead.
Time ticked by. I could have lost him.
I heard the gunshot.
Then, as if by a storm it came with no warning. The idea.
I let my head fall horizontal and took back the rim of my top with the edge of my teeth, masking the singlet edge over my muzzle. I then, ever so carefully, lifted the strap with my teeth and took the ring from the edge and let it sit on my tongue.
I could feel it's weight, not only the gold but the pressure that came with it; this was the only thing that could help me find him.
I moved the ring to the tip of my teeth and bit down on the hardened edge.
At first, horror hit me in a wave. Nothing happened.
Then, a beam of red light shot out and scorched the wall adjacent to where I sat.
I gave myself a twitch of a smile before turning and carefully scorning the bound ropes that held me. Cheap ropes they were.
How unprofessional.
I gingerly moved from my seat and placed a shaky foot over the patterned markings that sat around my chair and felt myself lurch at the sudden change. My torso roared in a wave of pain that washed over my body and I let a short lived and merely croaked scream pass my lips, another tear joining the reservoir that had already wet my hot cheeks and I found myself pining for breath. I caught the wall and took a second, wrapping my jacket tightly around the gaping wound to the mid of my torso and took trembling steps up the concreted stair and into the light.
To find him.
The question remained: Was he looking for me?