Tortured Embrace Page 2

  ****

  “Tuam sanquine, tuam sacramentum, tuam nomen, manifestum et natus a nocte walker…Tuam sanquine, tuam sacramentum, tuam nomen…”

  The feeling of immense joy washed over Cassandra. Her spell, challenging though it may be, was working, and she fought the urge to rejoice. She stood amid her convenio, arms outstretched, palms up, chanting in the middle of the circle. Twelve witches surrounded her, reciting the incantation with her, again and again.

  With dark, thick hair pulled back in a long braid and green piercing eyes, she let the magic consume her, her body swelling the stronger her spell became. It would not be long now. She watched as the heap of material atop the ancient sarcophagus began emanating a thick black smoke, rising high in the old ballroom of the Sweetin Home.

  The wide room with its high ceiling was the only space in the house without windows, other than the convenient cells below.

  The abandoned house in Hillview, Illinois, was the perfect venue for their assembly.

  Sweetin had completed the home in 1862 with a natural stream running through the basement. It was left abandoned for years till Cassandra took up residence. The ruins of the house were now her home, providing ample space for thirteen souls and two prisoners to dwell.

  Cassandra glanced up to where a man and woman hung naked, spread-eagle against the wall. Her devoted convenio had administered a serum to keep them from phasing. The man had his eyes shut, refusing to watch the orgy that would follow the chant. It was their common belief witches heightened and sustained their powers through group sex.

  There was no need for the werewolves to worry, however. A real witch would never deign to lie with their breed; not like her forsaken great granddaughter, she thought derisively. Although, some of her convenio did like to play with the hostages and who was she to take away their fun?

  Cassandra looked to the other wolf and grimaced. She didn’t like the way this one stared. The female’s eyes were deadened, set deep in their sockets. She’d hardly eaten a thing for months. Her dark, vacant expression made Cassandra ill at ease. She knew, eventually, the girl would close her eyes, having been forced to witness all kinds of lewd behavior.

  Now though, the girl’s eyes latched onto each member of her convenio, as if committing each face to memory. She felt Cassandra’s stare then, and their eyes met. Continuing to chant, she reached her senses out to gauge what the stupid girl was thinking and almost laughed. The girl promised herself repeatedly that it would be over soon. The poor fool. Hadn’t she realized that it was her blood that worked better than the male’s?

  With that thought, Cassandra disengaged from the circle and headed for the curious female on the wall. More of her blood wouldn’t hurt her spell. Besides, it’ll teach this one to stare so openly at them again. She reached the female and stood quietly before her. Slipping her right hand in her robes, she took out her bejeweled dagger.

  The girl sucked in a deep breath, knowing exactly what was coming.

  “I don’t like your stare, young lady. I think a lesson should be learned tonight, don’t you agree?” Staring up into the girl’s eyes, the dagger poised between them, she brought the tip of the blade up to her neck and began a teasing descent down her torso, around each mound, grazing her belly and lower…

  “Leave her alone!” the male called. He had been watching, his face tight with anger.

  Barely sparing him a glance, Cassandra lifted her dagger arm and sliced his cheek, making a gash from temple to chin.

  The girl cried out, looking desperately at her fellow wolf.

  “Not to worry, little fool. You’ll get your turn.” She bent and kissed the part of the female’s thigh she was going to cut. The hot skin burned her lips. “This one bleeds so nicely.” Cassandra stepped back, not liking the way her prisoner towered over her in this instance. She’d rather have the pups sprawled out on the floor, but hell if Cassandra would go on bended knee to do the deed.

  Infuriated now, she stuck the blade into the indentation at her hip and cut deep, dragging the point down through succulent skin, watching with a heated urgency as her blood spilled.

  Ignoring the female’s shouts of pain and the male’s groans of anguish, she stopped at the knee. Dropping the dagger quickly, she reached up and covered her palms in blood gushing profusely out of the gaping flesh. Turning to the sarcophagus, she ran her bloodied hands over the dead carcass and other gathered materials, which would bring her Nightwalkers to life.

  In the circle, her convenio’s chants grew louder as each opened their robes and slipped them to the floor, their bodies more than ready to complete the spell.

  When Cassandra finished her ministrations, she turned, choosing to de-robe in front of her prisoners. She wanted to fornicate right in front of her innocent charges.

  Cassandra leered at Serena Perez who no longer screamed or stared at the assembly around her. Her listless eyes gazed up at the faded mural adorning the high ceiling of the ballroom, her mind continuing to pray hopelessly.

  I promise. It will be over soon. I promise.

  Chapter Two

  The jagged stone at her back made her skin itch, but refusing to move, she ignored it. It was nothing compared to the throbbing in her leg, and the smarting at her wrists and ankles from the prickly rope wound tight around them. It didn’t compare to the emptiness inside her.

  Pain was all she knew. In fact, as she stared upward at the cracked and worn ceiling, Serena couldn’t remember feeling anything else. Things like laughing and smiling were foreign to her. She couldn’t imagine how anyone could smile in this horrible world she lived in.

  Angst wasn’t really her thing. There had actually been a time when she was happy. After finishing school and traveling the world, she’d taken a position in Wilmington’s quaint little library. Serena had been lucky to land the best job in the world for a peaceful girl like her, with access to so many books.

  The day Serena told her brother about her new position, he’d bought her a car, thrilled to have his little sister stay in town. He’d taken her out to dinner, spoiling her as usual. They’d talked about the future, and she laughed at his dry jokes. She felt sorry for that girl now. The stupid, smiling idiot had no idea what was coming.

  The acrid smell of the carcass on the sarcophagus turned her stomach as the revolting couple in front of her cried out louder trying to get her attention. Refusing to watch, she focused on a washed-out impression of a cherub, oddly anticipating going back in the basement to her cold, damp room.

  Being strung up was humiliating enough, but she couldn’t stand being naked in front of these people. She should have been used to it by now, but it made her insides squirm every time one of them looked at her. And Ben. God, to have her boss see her this way was too much.

  They usually avoided looking at each other when they were brought up, attempting to respect each other’s privacy, but hated witnessing the other get hurt and eventually would take a cautionary glance to check on one another. The gash across his face looked like it would leave a significant scar. Though they normally healed quickly, there was only so much a werewolf’s body could take. And they were weakening more now than ever.

  Feeling the blood trickle down and around her calf was a reminder she could very well die tonight from blood loss. She didn’t want to look at her leg. It was numb now, but the familiar agonizing sting would start in a minute, and then it would eventually heal by tomorrow night. She’d have a scar though, just like her other thigh. The more blood she lost, the weaker her ability to heal became.

  The mural above her began to blur. She was going to pass out. Fighting the urge to close her eyes and let emptiness claim her, she continued to stare at the cherub, telling herself over and over again it could not last. It will all be over soon. Knowing the witch could read minds, she usually kept an ongoing prayer to keep her thoughts from giving too much away.

  “Serena?” Ben’s waning voice whispered to her.

  This time she let her eyes close, refu
sing to look at him. He was taking this opportunity to talk to her while everyone else around them fornicated to punctuate their spell.

  “Talk to me,” he muttered and she knew he was barely moving his lips, not wanting to draw attention to them.

  How in the world could she face him after what happened? And what did he want her to say? They were being held captive by witches, tortured by magic, and cut every other day by a psychotic bitch. Excuse her if she didn’t feel like chatting.

  “Are you okay? Please, just say something,” he pleaded.

  Serena opened her eyes, and she could feel his stare on her. “Don’t look at me,” she whispered under the countless sighs and moans on the ballroom floor.

  From the corner of her eye she saw him turn to face downward, probably squeezing his eyes shut to avoiding the rutting witches on the floor. “How are you feeling? Have you been eating?”

  She shook her head, then realized he couldn’t see her. “No,” she replied. The thought of food made her nauseous. Hesitating, Serena gave him the answer she knew he was looking for. “I…I…can’t hold anything down.”

  Ben’s head jerked her way. Reluctantly, she met his wide-eyed expression and grimaced. He didn’t look good. Her boss had always been skinny, but he was all skin and bones now. Male werewolves were naturally big, but as a half-breed, Ben had only the height of a werewolf. A bookworm like herself, he had no interest in pumping iron to add muscle.

  What a perfect catch they were for this sick lot. Serena and Ben were not Fighters, but simple Blacktail members who kept to themselves. Their potential to keep a low profile must have been why they were chosen for this experiment. They weren’t trained in combat. Try as her brother might, she was never interested in learning self-defense.

  Serena used to tell her brother sarcastically that she was a werewolf. If she ran into trouble, she would just morph and growl at her attacker. Who could guess her attacker would have a tranquilizer which kept them from phasing.

  Serena gave Ben an apologetic look. “I’m sorry,” she whispered a tear sliding down her cheek.

  He understood her condition. Probably sensed it now and knew she suffered. Her inability to hold anything down worried her poor boss. She hadn’t seen a mirror in months, but she was sure she looked worse than he did.

  Ben shook his head. “Don’t…” He seemed to get over his initial shock. “Just…please eat, okay?”

  She nodded miserably.

  The head witch, Cassandra became quiet, no doubt bringing their filthy act to an end at that very moment. Serena whispered frantically to Ben. “Don’t think it. Clear your mind.”

  Ben nodded and shut his eyes again, his face tight as he focused on some unknown thought.

  As she resumed her fixation on the cherub above, Serena heard him whisper, “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to get out of here.”

  Dizzy from her brief panic of being overheard or worse, having her captor read their thoughts, Serena continued her prayer. She was slipping in and out of focus, the pain in her leg excruciating now. Desperately, she clung to consciousness, afraid of what her subconscious would reveal.

  Her cherub’s dark eyes lost their form, becoming tiny dots as the pain worsened. As her lids gave way, the chubby face no longer visible, the small dark spots turned a shimmering hazel. A man’s piercing gaze interrupted her prayers.

  Jason’s eyes bored into hers, urging her to hang on. His strong face gave her hope and she held onto it as long as she could, until her world went dark.

  ****

  Serena came to as a needle sank into her forearm. She was on her back on the floor of her empty, dark room. There were no windows, no bed, not even a blanket to lie on. Her captors had left only three bowls. One was for water, the other for the occasional slice of bread and cheese, and one bowl to conduct her business. The only male witches in the house changed them out every day. Aside from the woman, Cassandra, the other women didn’t want to go near a werewolf.

  The man kneeling over her paused a second to meet her glare then took out the syringe. She remembered his name was Leonardo, recognizing him as the male who had come down a week ago during the moon heat.

  “Not such a big bad wolf after all, are ya?” Leonardo said with a leer. He dropped her arm and stood.

  Staring at him with hatred in her eyes, Serena sat up gingerly, using her hands to pull herself to the back wall, dragging her injured legs across the filthy ground. She had never felt such violence toward another human being. “Get out,” Serena said weakly, wondering why the hell he lingered. Usually the men just came in to switch the bowls or inject her with the serum, which kept her from phasing and left. They never hung around, except for a week ago she thought with mounting worry.

  He laughed at her. “You’re not exactly in a position to call shots now, are you?” Placing both hands on his hips, he continued to smirk at her. “By the way…” His eyes narrowed at her. “That was fun the other day, wasn’t it?”

  In spite of herself, she began to visibly tremble. She hated showing this man just how frightened she was. “You’re sick,” she whispered, nervous now beyond comprehension. He had touched her before, but only when she was brought to the ballroom and strung up. She had a feeling Cassandra had given them orders not to mess with the hostages when they were locked up. “How would your boss feel about what you did?”

  Leonardo’s face hardened and she knew she was right. “Cassandra wouldn’t believe a stinking bitch over me,” he said with a snort.

  He could be insulting all he liked, but it was obvious he was scared now. Taking a step toward her, she jerked back, raising her knees up to cover herself.

  Pointing a finger at her, he said, “You keep your filthy mouth shut, got it?” With that, he turned and left, slamming the door behind him. Serena watched through the thick square glass as he locked the door and stormed off.

  Months ago, Leonardo and two other guys had completely altered her life. The day had been as normal as any other for a quiet girl like herself. After closing the library on North Water Street, she waved goodbye to the coordinator of children’s services and walked to her car, stopping at an antique shop to look in the window at a new selection of Celtic jewelry.

  The charming little shop was always inviting, but it was getting late, the sun having just set over the west woods, and she needed to get to the grocery store before it closed. The only thing in her fridge was string cheese, coffee grounds, and creamer…and she’d had that for breakfast.

  Running off a list of things she needed in her head, she unlocked her Volkswagen Beetle and tossed her purse on the passenger seat.

  Before she stepped into the car, she felt a sting in her upper arm as someone hissed rapidly in a foreign language in her ear. Her reaction instant, Serena spun on her heel, her hand over the strange tingle on her arm. Before she deduced what was happening, Serena felt her body become extremely limp. Her vision blurred, and the urge to lie down was overwhelming. A man in a leather jacket stood before her. For a moment, as he continued on in a different language, she wondered why he was wearing a leather jacket in the middle of the summer. The man finished his rant. Speaking in English he said, “You need to come with me.”

  His voice was soft and kind, but a logical side of her brain still in operation told her he was dangerous. Serena shook her head slowly. The act of speaking seemed too difficult.

  “Yes. Benjamin’s been in an accident around the corner. He’s really hurt. He asked me to get you. Please…” The man took her arm gently.

  Ben. No, he couldn’t have. Her boss had left an hour ago. Serena shook her head. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel so strange? Just then, someone shouted her name.

  “Ben,” she mumbled, looking to the left. Her boss’ voice had come from Canal Street. He really was in trouble. She shrugged the man off her arm and stumbled slightly around the corner. There were two cars there, but it didn’t look like they’d been in an accident.

  They were both para
llel parked along the curb. Ben was in the first car, his head lolled out the window like he was going to be sick. Vaguely noticing it wasn’t her boss’ car, Serena started forward. Ben met her hazy gaze and mouthed the word, No.

  Serena faltered.

  Ben lifted his head with obvious difficulty, and called out as loud as he could, “Run, Serena!” His head was cocked back by a dark figure sitting in the car with him.

  Before she could move, the muzzle of a gun met the small of her back. “You run or scream, I’ll shoot. Get in the car.”

  The second car’s back door opened, and she was pushed unceremoniously in. Her body, completely lax now, could not manage a single act of defiance. That small part of her mind still registering what was happening was the only thing panicking.

  As someone drove, the man in black leather tied her wrists together. “Did anyone see you?” the driver asked.

  “I don’t think so,” black leather responded.

  Serena’s head spun uncontrollably and she leaned back against the cushion. She met the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “How long will the incantation last? Shouldn’t they have passed out by now?”

  The man beside her looked her over and reaching up, slid his hand over her eyes to close her lids. “I don’t think Cassandra’s spell works so well on Weres. They both refused to come with me right after I enchanted them.”

  “You didn’t do it right.”

  “I did it fine. We’ve got them, don’t we?”

  The driver was quiet for a moment as he sped off. Struggling to open her eyes with no luck, she tried to move away from the man beside her who reeked of stale cigarettes. “How long will the serum last? If she phases in the car, we’re fucked.”

  “Relax. It’s supposed to last twenty-four hours. She can’t turn with the serum and under the enchantment. We’re fine. Just drive. You’re freaking me out.”

  Her captor’s voices were the last thing she remembered before waking up in this cold room. The prison she’d been in for God knows how many days was made up of dark stone walls and a heavy wooden door with a small square glass at the top.