Monstrous Ends, page 2
A patrol sidles in, his eyes wide as he rushes towards my throne. Dropping to his knees, he bows his head. I lean forward and drape an arm across my knees, then I grunt, allowing him to speak. He doesn’t look up, knowing better.
“My king, there’s an alert at the border.”
I stand, my fists clenching, itching to rip some humans to pieces. “Where?”
He reels off the location, and I pass him without a word. I know my people overhear because they hoot and follow me from the prison to our stable. Once there, I mount my horse and head to the wall where the humans are trying to get in again.
They will look into my eyes as I kill them.
TWO
LYRA
It’s a terrible idea really. I press my back to the door and look around at the destroyed city before me. The streets are cracked and overgrown, the buildings are half falling down, and the windows are smashed out. There are no signs of life anywhere.
Everything is dead and forgotten, just like they said.
I clutch my bag and wander into the streets, keeping my eyes peeled for monsters and somewhere to hide. It would be better to lie low somewhere near the wall so I could just slip out when they least expect it, find my contacts in the city beyond, and get whatever is in this bag on the news.
The more people who know, the less they can contain it, and killing me would only make me martyr.
I’m looking around, debating where to go, when something shifts in the darkness. My eyes widen as I freeze in terror, like a trapped bunny. I grip my bag as I scan the area, noticing more movements in every shadow surrounding me.
Oh god, monsters.
They are real, and they are here.
I can almost taste their hunger in the air, the hair on the back of my neck standing on edge as I look around desperately. If I’m not quick or smart, they will kill me, then everything I’ve done will be for nothing.
No, I have to survive this. I know you don’t run from predators, so instead, I clear my throat and ensure my voice is loud.
“I’m not your enemy, please!” I call, unable to conceal the fear in my tone nor the warble. Hey, I’m an adrenaline junkie, but I’m not dumb. “I had nowhere else to go. My people, they were going to kill me for what I know. What I know about you!”
There’s no answer, not at first, and then I see them separating from the shadows, and a scream gets trapped in my throat.
I turn to run, to race back to the human slums, even if it means death, because crawling from the shadows are my worst nightmares. The monsters your mum warns you about do exist here, and they are coming for me.
They have black eyes, huge fangs, spiked tails, and horns. Claw-tipped hands wrap around me with a sadistic laugh, and I start to fight, but they drag me into the shadows with them, and everything fades to black as they knock me out.
When I drag myself out of the darkness, I find myself being jostled around on something breathing and warm. Lifting my head, I realise I’m draped over the back of a horse with a rough, clawed hand pushing my head down and snarling something at me, so I play dead.
Maybe they’ll let me go if I do. Anyway, it takes all my concentration not to slip from the horse as we gallop wherever the fuck these monsters are taking me to strip the skin from my bones and eat me like BBQ.
Fuck, why does my stomach growl right in this moment? Fucking sicko.
Time passes oddly, the ache in my head making me fight the encroaching darkness. I know if I give into it, it means death, so I struggle through the haze as the choppy movements of the horse make bile crawl up my throat.
The sound of hooves hitting cement changes to something different a while later, and we jerk to an abrupt stop. The hammering of my heart is all I can hear when I’m suddenly yanked up. My legs are on either side of the horse, and my back is to someone’s front.
A monster, not someone.
Their warm breath meets my ear, making me shiver, even as my eyes narrow, taking in the surroundings before me. It’s a stable of some kind, clearly handmade from wood, with makeshift stalls and other horses. They seem well looked after though, so I guess that’s something, right?
“I can smell your fear, little one.”
Well, shit. “And I can smell that you need to brush your teeth,” I retort through gritted teeth, hating this bastard behind me who called me out on being afraid like he wouldn’t be if someone knocked him out and threw him over a horse and rode off into the darkness.
Idiot.
He jerks back like he didn’t expect that, his heavy breathing loud in my ear.
I wrinkle my nose. “You better not be jerking off behind me with how hard you’re breathing. These are clean pants.” My mouth always gets me in trouble.
“Not anymore,” he snarls, and then I’m tossed from the horse. I land hard on the straw-covered dirt with a groan as I blow my hair from my face. I open my mouth to scream at the asshole, but the words die in my throat when I get my first look at the monster who kidnapped me.
Viking is the first word that comes to mind. He’s a Viking mixed with a demon. It’s the only way I can describe him as he glares down at me haughtily. Sitting astride a black stallion like a horseman come to claim my soul, his sneer is filled with derision.
Horns as black as the night curl up into the sky, one broken and scarred. His face is thick, square, and sharp. His features are all pointed angles, with cheekbones models would envy, only softened by thick pouty lips, but even the bottom one has a scar intersecting it. His nose is bumpy at the top, as if it’s been broken one too many times.
And his eyes . . .
One black, one white. Yet they look into your soul as if daring you to be afraid.
To run.
His chest is on full display, a masterpiece of scars covering every hard inch. His muscles are so big, I actually blink in surprise. His skin is a deep red, almost black, with lighter red highlights on the contours of his body.
He’s both beautiful and terrifying, and he knows it. He uses his looks like a shield as he grins down at me, expecting me to run when he flashes huge fangs. I never run, though, and I never back down. I’ve faced plenty of monsters in my time, so I know that’s exactly what they want—my fear.
Throwing his leg over the horse, he dismounts and crouches before me with his head tilted like an animal, but a very human, very evil grin forms on his lips. “Now your pants are very dirty and the least of your concerns, human.” Reaching out, he strokes my face softly before his clawed hand tangles in my hair, making me cry out in pain. His eyes widen at the sound, as if loving it, so I bite back any more.
I’m unwilling to give him the satisfaction, the sadist.
“Tell me why you’re here. Tell me everything I want to know, and I’ll make your death swift.”
“Everything?” I hiss when he tightens his hold, dragging me to my knees as he bends over me. If anyone were to look at us, it would appear like he’s bending over to kiss me. “Okay, well, you asked for it. I was born in the mansion district to Ellis Wells and Katrina Sharpe. Both were too young to have a kid, and eventually that caught up—”
He roars right in my face, and I wince.
When he’s done, I smile sweetly. “I still think you need to brush.” His fist tightens, and I whimper, unable to help it. “You said everything!” I yell. “Maybe be more specific, asshole.”
“Why are you referring to my backside?” He frowns before shaking his head. “Enough, tell me why you are here. Tell me what you know.”
I pretend to slump, keeping my eyes downcast as I play the submissive victim. I learned that at a young age too. I even let my lip wobble a bit. I should be an actress. “I know . . . I know that your breath smells like ass and you’re a prick,” I snarl before he throws me to my back and stands.
He turns and walks away, but at the door, I see him pause and smell his breath.
“Saw that,” I mutter, and he jerks, turning that stern glare on me, one that probably terrifies everyone. Okay, yeah, it is scary, but I spent so long being afraid of everything that it’s almost the norm for me now.
“Blindfold her and chain her in the dungeon.” With that, he strides out into the darkness where rain falls heavily, obscuring his retreating form.
But not before I saw the massive scars running along his shoulders and the mocking skull tattoo surrounding them.
Just who is this monster?
And why do I care?
Monsters were just a scary bedtime story, but now here I am, in their midst, and they are nothing like I would have imagined. They are worse.
Two more step into the stable. They are smaller than him, though that’s not surprising since he’s huge. They are also a lighter red. One is missing his horn altogether, and the other has three. They both flash fangs at me and grab an arm, and before I can protest or fight, a dark bag is thrown over my head. I’m dragged kicking and screaming through the rain. It pelts my body, freezing me to my core, until it suddenly stops, and I know we are inside.
My warm breath fogs the bag, fast and quick with fear, even as I try to slow it. Their booted feet are loud wherever we are, echoing around us, and then I’m thrown into something hard once more. This time, however, my hands are yanked above my head, making me hiss. Something cold wraps around my wrists like a bracelet.
I hear the click of the shackles fastening, and then I hang from them, my back to something icy.
A wall?
It’s quiet after that until there’s the sound of metal grating before a cell door slams into place, a familiar sound from when I used to visit the prison to get stories. Then, there’s nothing and no sound other than my heavy, ragged breathing in the bag.
I shiver from adrenaline and fear and now the cold, and panic starts to take over.
The one thing I hate most in the world is the complete inky blackness of nothingness. Memories claw at me, taking me back to being a scared little girl.
I scream and fight their embrace, fighting the fear and horror they bring. I’m unwilling to let this take me. I’m unwilling to break.
My anger at the scarred asshole drives back my panic, and I hold onto it like a lifeline.
I hold it inside of me to warm me, to shed light where there is nothing else, and I feed it.
I’m going to need to in order to survive this.
THREE
SAMAEL
Sprawled on my throne, I ignore the looks my people are sending my way. I also ignore their drinking, rowdy laughter, fighting, and fucking. My thoughts are consumed by the little human in the cells below and the fire in her eyes as she stared right into my face. She didn’t back down despite her fear, unlike my own people.
Everyone fears me and looks away. I’m a reminder of what happens to those who piss off the humans. I’m a reminder of those who have given into the haze, something that lives in me every day now. Most give into it through heightened emotions.
Me?
It’s always there, guiding my actions. They call me crazy and feral, and they would be right. I need bloodshed and death to feed the beast inside me or it will take over again, and I’ll be lost. I clawed my way back from that killing machine, but I can never get back to living like a normal, functioning monster, and I wouldn’t want to.
All the others moved on, tried to forget, and live a normal life.
Not me nor those here with me.
We don’t want to forget. We want to revel in our anger. We want to remember the pain, torture, and the friends and family we lost. We want the humans to pay for that, and we don’t want to pretend like everything is okay while we are trapped in a cell with a wall they built.
They crave peace, while I crave chaos.
Now the little human is here, thinking she’s safe from me. She couldn’t be more wrong. I want to know why she’s here, why she came through the wall. Is she a spy? A warrior?
Is she the first wave of the attack I always knew would come?
Humans crave chaos as much as I do. They need a war. They need something to blame and fight against. They aren’t happy or content with peace and a normal life. They need the excitement of death, and I have been waiting for the day when they will come again.
They will never capture me or my people again, I’ll ensure it.
I need to learn what she knows, so I push from my throne, ignoring the calls, and leap down the stairs of the prison. I descend into the solitary confinement wing and storm towards her cell. At the bars, I linger and watch her. The black bag is over her head, which leans against her bicep, and her arms are stretched up and shackled.
Her curves press against her soaked clothes as she shivers. Good, let her suffer.
Her breasts almost tumble from her shirt, and my nostrils flare before I force myself to scan her for weaknesses. I need to learn what I can use against her and ignore that unbidden heat I feel at the sight of her chained and helpless.
“I know you’re there,” she calls, her muffled, silky voice wrapping around me in a way that makes me want to rage at her. How dare she try to cajole me.
I am the leader here!
I slam open the bars, and she jumps at the loud noise. An evil grin tips up my lips. I love her fear and unease as I let her hear me wander around her cell. I never speak nor touch her, leaving her guessing.
It’s an easy form of torture, one I know well.
The human doesn’t beg, cry, or scream like I expect. After all, they are weak, so very weak, but this one? She has steel underneath that paper-thin skin.
It will be fun to break her.
“Yeah, I can still smell you. You stink of horse,” she spits. “Let me guess, it’s you, asshole. I’m right, aren’t I?” she mocks, and I narrow my eyes, feeling the urge to rip off the bag and snarl in her face to see fear filling her bright eyes.
“So, if you’re into kinky shit, you should have just said so. Tying me up? Hot. Being thrown in a cell? I guess it could be in some ways—”
I rip off the bag, and she grins at me, but it can’t disguise the panic that was briefly evident on her face.
Interesting, is she afraid of the dark?
I can use that.
“Oh, look, it’s Captain Asshole,” she sneers, tugging on her hands as she looks up at them. “What? Couldn’t find any rustier shackles? Fine, so what’s next, monster baddie? Are you going to keep me here forever?”
“Just until you tell me what I want to know, and then I’ll kill you and leave you for the wild dogs to eat.” I shrug, and she narrows her eyes at me.
Her fear fills the air, wrapping around me like an addictive perfume, but she never lets it show. If I couldn’t smell it, I would never know it. Her eyes are clear and bright, tracking my movements, and her lips are relaxed.
She’s good, I’ll give her that, but she’s only dealt with humans, never monsters.
“You can play pretend all you want, little human, but the stench of your fear is making me hard.”
She jerks, her shoulders tensing as she glares at me.
“Whatever gets you off, asshole,” she retorts. “Now, can we get this over with so you’ll take your nasty breath and horse-shit stench away? I want to sleep; it’s been a long day.”
“Is that right?” I stop before her, tilting her chin up with a claw. “Now shall we try again? Why are you here? What do you know?”
She blows out a breath and rolls her eyes at me. “Do you want me to start from age five, or maybe my first sexual experience—”
I lean in and snarl, letting her get a close-up of my ugly, marred face. She doesn’t shrink back though. Instead, she glares at me defiantly. “I will break you, little human, and when I do, I will bathe in your pain. The longer you hold on, the sweeter it will be.”
“Asshole,” she scoffs. Then, moving faster than I thought she could, she slams her face into mine. I stumble back with a snarl, feeling my nose gush blood, even as she groans and closes her eyes. “Are you made of fucking cement?” she whines.
“That was stupid.” Something in my tone makes her still, and her breathing picks up, making her breasts jiggle enticingly. Curling my fists at my own traitorous thoughts, I lick the blood from my lip. “What? No witty remarks? Can’t even look at me?” Inhaling deeply, I chuckle as she shivers. “Oh, but your terror is sweet, and you will pay for that, little one.” Gripping the bag, I shove it over her head once more.
“No, please, not the bag,” she begs, and it’s the only time there’s been a crack in her façade.
“Some time in the dark should make you re-evaluate, and when I come back”—I press my face to the bag with a snarl—“you’ll talk, or I’ll start breaking things.”
Turning away, I ignore her whimper of fear that seems to strike something deep inside me, then I slam her cell closed and head back upstairs to rejoin my people.
My hatred for her kind is twisted up with the truth of seeing her chained before me.
Weak, they are all so weak.
She will break eventually, and when she does, she’s dead.
FOUR
LYRA
Tugging on the shackles, I round my shoulders to try and ease the ache there, and then I concentrate on every pinprick of pain in my body so I don’t focus on the darkness.
My head aches something fierce, but my skull isn’t cracked, so that’s good.
No doubt I have a concussion, but I’ve had worse.
My shoulders pull and ache, but nothing is popped out of place, and my ass aches from my fall, but I’ve got a lot of cushion, so it’s not as bad as it could be. All in all, I’m not in bad shape, apart from being held captive in an asshole monster’s dungeon with a bag over my head.
Yay me.
At least I’m not naked.
I guess that’s something.
With nothing else to do, I focus on the sound of the small drips of water that beat in time with my heartbeat. When that runs out, I concentrate on remembering what this place looks like. I got a glimpse when he came to talk to me. It looked like an old prison cell with a rusted, sliding cell door, a metal bed built into the wall, a toilet, a sink, and a cracked mirror.
