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    LieLocks
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Black Blood - 26. Chapter 26

26

 

 

In the dim, narrow corridor, Charisma and Josh stood with Micah stuck between them. He had gone very pale when Charisma had dug her finger in his wounded shoulder. His legs looked weak. Viko was clutching at the metallic bars with bloodied, aching hands. Charisma had ripped out his nails one by one before. She had asked where the rest of his little group was. Seeing that he was unyielding despite the hell she put him through, she had threatened to gouge his eyes out next. He still wouldn’t tell her, because he didn’t want Pandra or Micah to get hurt. And now, ironically Micah had come here. Why did that boy always put himself in such dangerous situations, on purpose?

Now, Charisma debated turning Micah into a vampire.

“I could just drink everything, and let you watch him die,” she addressed Viko.

“I swear,” he hissed against the cold metal of the bars, “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you…” It was like a mantra.

“Shut up!” Josh suddenly kicked his hand with a booted foot. Growling in pain, Viko backed away from the bars, holding his bloodied hand against his chest, where Fraya’s claw hung from his necklace. He looked up at Charisma with seething hatred, through a veil of messy hair.

As she neared Micah, he wriggled in Josh’s hold.

“Get away from me you bitch!”

She made a derisive snort. “Oh, that is rich. You’re always running after Skylar, or running after Viko. You can’t be left alone, can you? You’re so pathetic and miserable. I think you’re the ‘little bitch’, Micah. Do you want to be a vampire or not? You can replace Sammy.” Josh winced at that, and Charisma shot him a glare. “Please, Josh, you didn’t know anything about her. You liked her because she let you into her bed, that is all. All right, Micah, if you don’t answer my question now, I’ll take that as a no, and I’ll just kill you.”

“I don’t want to become a freaking zombie.” There was fear in his blue eyes, but he was trying to hide it with his attitude.

Viko got closer to the bars soundlessly, ripped jeans sliding across the damp stone floor.

“Oh, please!” Charisma twirled her braid between her fingers. “I’ve been to Earth; I know what the word zombie stands for. And my beautiful creatures are definitely vampires.”

“Well they look like stupid zombies,” Micah snapped right back.

The look on Charisma’s face was sincerely offended. “How? Explain to me.”

Viko almost smiled; at least Micah was stalling for time. He could give him that.

“They have lifeless eyes, no soul; they keep killing other people with no remorse whatsoever, they reek of death, they—”

Josh kicked him from behind to shut him up. “Hey, I don’t reek. And I still have a soul. I think? What’s a soul, anyway?”

“Josh is right. That’s enough. You’ve insulted me. You don’t deserve to be a vampire.”

She bared her fangs. They slipped past her red lips, long and sharp. Micah flinched, but Josh pushed him even closer to her. He was trembling, and desperately trying to get away. He kept moving, but it was pointless. Charisma held his neck and inched closer.

Then Micah slapped her. Viko’s eyes widened as he held the bars again, looking up. He almost laughed. He couldn’t believe Micah had just slapped her. She didn’t seem to comprehend the situation, either. She even had a red mark on her cheek. She brought her hand to it.

“Is that the only way you know how to fight, you little shit?”

She smacked him with the back of her hand. This was starting to look like a cat fight…

“I can’t believe you did that,” said Josh, holding both of Micah’s arms behind his back now. “That’s my Queen you bastard.”

“That’s more like it,” Charisma said, regaining her composure. She snarled, and bit right into Micah’s neck, without losing any time now. She closed her eyes, enjoying the taste. Micah winced and inhaled sharply, but didn’t scream.

Viko shook the bars frantically, with everything that he had. But they were solid. Josh looked down at him like he wanted to kick him again, but he was too busy holding Micah properly.

They heard footsteps coming down the stairs then. Two men were marching along the narrow corridor with heavy steps. The first one was Drew.

“Hey, Charisma, I couldn’t find any wine. I think that weird priest guy drank all of it. Oh, also, that Liham guy is here.” He pointed over his shoulder with a thumb. “Can’t understand a word he’s saying. You figure it out with him, I guess. Sounds pretty urgent.”

Liham pushed Drew out of the way and went to stand before Charisma. She had no choice but to pull away from Micah, licking her lips neatly.

“Ah, will I ever get to have a drink in peace, I wonder?”

“My queen,” Liham bowed, “things are not going well. There is a dragon, and sorcerers and witches. I am losing…”

Viko looked at him discreetly; his brother looked horrible. He was skinny and his cheeks were hollow. His clothing was completely ragged. There were dark circles under his narrow black eyes. He kept eyeing the fresh blood trickling down Micah’s neck with desperate hunger.

Charisma seemed alarmed suddenly.

“What did he say?” asked Josh, still holding Micah, who had put a sleeved hand up against his neck to stop the bleeding.

Charisma ignored him. She pushed past both of them to get closer to Liham. She swallowed hard.

“I guess I have no choice,” she answered in Viko’s language. It was rough, and some of the words were wrong, but still understandable. She had learned it, but not nearly as well as she had learned English. “Take me outside, so I can gather the situation.”

“Is that…?” Liham was finally noticing Viko.

“We’ll take care of him later. Come.” Charisma took his thin arm and they walked toward the stairs carved in stone, their steps echoing through the dungeons. Drew went after them.

Josh was left alone to take care of the prisoners. “Well, this is awkward,” he said.

“Let go of him,” Viko hissed. He could see that Josh’s hands were holding Micah’s arms so tightly that they would leave bruises.

Suddenly Micah’s body seemed to go limp. Josh shrugged, “Okay then.” He let go, and Micah collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Viko grabbed the bars tighter, resting his forehead against the cold metal. He cursed, trying to shake those damn bars. Only a slight creaking of metal was heard, but they didn’t move. Josh scratched his short hair, stepping closer to the cell.

“You want me to kick your hands again or what?”

From the corner of his eye, Viko thought he saw Micah moving. It was slight; he turned his head, and winked at him. A wave of relief and something else—affection, he supposed—washed over him. With renewed energy, he bounced up to his feet and slipped his hand through the narrow space between two bars, grabbing Josh’s stupid blue tunic. Surprised, Josh didn’t have time to react. A golden button popped as Viko yanked him against the bars.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Josh tried to regain control of the situation, but Viko held on to his clothing, ignoring the pain in his fingers. He was possessed by some inhuman strength triggered by adrenaline. Behind Josh, Micah had seized the torch, and he was pulling it out of its metallic holder.

Josh was just about to slip away from Viko’s hold when Micah lashed the flaming torch at his back. Josh screamed in fear as his tunic caught fire. When Viko let go of him, he yanked at the fabric, ripping it off and tossing it onto the floor. The keys fell from the pocket with a metallic thud. Only Viko noticed this. He stretched his arm through the bars, fingers scrambling against the dusty floor but the keys were out of reach.

He looked up. Josh was backing away from Micah, who was still brandishing the torch, slashing at the air with the flame. His blue eyes shone in its yellow glow.

“Get away from us, get away you monster!” Micah went after Josh, who was running away haphazardly. He stumbled when he reached the stairs. He staggered back up and rushed up the stairs, shouting Charisma’s name the same way a frightened kid called after his parents.

Micah came back to the cell rapidly. He looked weak, but very much awake.

“You’re a good actor, Micah,” Viko looked at him through the bars. “I really thought you fainted.”

“Thank you.” He tried using the flame of the torch to weaken the lock. The smell of burnt metal filled the damp air. But this wasn’t very effective.

“What are you doing? The keys are right there you idiot!” Viko pointed down and Micah hurriedly bent over to pick them up, dropping the torch carelessly.

“Right. Which is it?”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

The keys shook in Micah’s trembling hands. He tried a few nervously, and finally a click was heard. As he pulled at the bars, the slightly melted lock gave way with a creaking noise. Viko twisted himself out of there, unwilling to spend one more second in the horrendous cell. Micah’s arms were around him and held him tight. A few feet away the torch still burned, providing a little light and heat in this cold, abandoned basement. He felt Micah’s hand in his hair, his arm around his waist.

“Thank you,” Viko said, emotions nearly breaking him. His voice was a whisper. “I love you.”

Micah just nodded, held him tighter. Then they pulled away from each other and got the hell out of there.

Copyright © 2014 LieLocks; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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