The Trials of the Jinx

My word

Kel spent hours trying to pull herself up on the chains to get some blood flow back into her fingers but to no avail. Her body is spent. She strains to get a look at her watch, but between the harsh light and her tired eyes, she can't tell what time it is. Whatever these people want, they are dilatory about getting it. If she can just figure out why they want her so badly, then perhaps she can convince them she is not what they’re looking for.

She pulls herself up the chains once more when the door cracks open revealing a smug Lyssa. She has changed into a navy gown that is wrapped around her body like a silk tunic. Her heels click against the stone as she approaches.

Someone grabs her wrists; she hears a click, and then her arms drop to her sides. A quick glance tells her who unchained her. Hell. Again she missed his movements. It is starting to become clear how all those people went missing without anyone noticing. He must be able to hide his scent somehow as well because even if he is quiet as a breath, the supernatural would’ve been able to pick up on his scent. Her beloved curse doesn’t allow such traits, so she won’t be able to tell.

“You are the second wolf to enter these halls,” Lyssa muses.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m -,”

“Cursed? Yes, I know.” She nods to Hell, and in one swift movement, his boot connects with her back, sending her to the floor. Her arms, still desperately trying to get blood flow back, fail to break her fall. He presses his knee into her back, letting the quiet body show its full force.

“But see, your curse has a little side-effect that works in my favour,” Lyssa explains. 

“Would you please stop talking in riddles and tell me what you want,” Kel says with her cheek still squishing against the floor. There is nothing that irritates her more than people who avoid their point. She is literally pressed for time.

Lyssa scoffs, but Kel can see a smile tugging at her lips and something that resembles… pride? Why will she appreciate anything I do?

“Fair enough. You have never experienced love.”

Kel is about to object when Lyssa lifts her hand to silence her. “Yes, yes. You love your parents and brother and may even love a few friends.” 

She kneels beside Kel and tucks a strand of her pearly hair behind her ear. 

“I’m talking about a passionate, life-altering, romantic love.”

Of everything that has happened to her in the past few hours, that hurt the most. It’s not like she doesn’t want to love. There are times that she cries herself to sleep, knowing no man will ever look at her the way her father looks at her mother. It isn’t fair. Now, it is used against her. 

But the others? They are single, yes, but never loved? 

“Were they also?” she asks. Lyssa is confused by her response, but then realization starts to dawn on her.

“Some, yes. It’s hard to be sure, but with you, it was near certain.”

“Fine, why? Why do you need some poor, lonely saps?”

“Ooh, I see I’ve touched a nerve.” She looks over at Hell, flicks her wrist and Kel is dragged out of the room.

She waits until she and Hell are alone in the hall before she snaps at him.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Nothing.

“Just the obsequious little guard dog.”

That catches his attention. He spins her; then drives her against the wall. His breath is quick against her neck as he tries to gain control of his anger. It riles him up beyond his limits. The troubling part is she has a point. He always obeys his mother’s orders because it’s all he’s ever known. It has been engraved in his being and he doesn’t know if there is even a person beyond that.

Her breath quickens by the slight fear burrowing in her chest, but anger still drives her, overruling her logical thoughts. “I didn’t pick you for the sentient type.”

His eyes flick over her face. "I'm not," he fumes through grit teeth. She holds his stare, her body may have limited strength, but her will makes up for it.

"Then why do you do it? It's clearly not for a warm familial bond."

His throat bobs as he swallows hard. She can see he is trying to hold back anger, but there is also a deep melancholy lingering in his eyes.

"When was the last time you were hugged?"

A shiver rips over his body. His muscles twitch underneath his brows, unable to decide whether to be shocked or confused.

He inhales deeply then pulls her along, this time at a quick pace.

They enter another room; unlike the others, this one isn’t empty. In the centre of the room, a massive marble pond is filled to the rim. A metal slab that resembles something out of a coroner’s office, is built into the wall with various strange instruments lining the table next to it. The ungodly sight drains Kel of blood. Her knees start to buckle, and she drops to the floor. Hell doesn’t leave her there for long. He scoops her up with ease and carries her to the slab. He puts her down in a not so gentle manner, letting her drop the last few inches. She is slowly losing her words. But what can a person say in such a situation? Beg? Plead? Scream? She definitely can’t fight him; her fragile body is no match for a teen coming into puberty, let alone this gym-junky. She slides her knees to her chest and waits for him. He busies himself at the table, his back blocking his movements from her view. When he does turn to her, she wishes he would turn back around. In his hands is a large syringe with a thick black liquid. She has grown used to needles with her recurrent hospital visits, but that liquid does not have a very inviting look. 

She shifts her gaze to his, looking for some sort of intent behind them. His eyes don't give any inclination of what is to come. He approaches her and pulls her arm towards him.

“Wait,” she yells. “Aren’t you going to sanitize first?” 

Her body is trembling beneath his touch, but her voice is steady. He looks at her for a few seconds, his brows tightening together.

So she continues: “Whenever I get a shot, the nurse would clean the skin to make sure it doesn’t get infected, and thanks to a lovely curse it is very likely.”

His brows slowly ease, giving his face a much calmer appearance.

“I’ll make sure you’re fine,” he says, the sound a smoky tone.

“Keep your eyes on mine.” She complies. She stares at the black rings that melt into gold, before reaching the black abyss in the centre. The colours seem to move like waves. His dark lashes obscure her view for a split-second then his gaze is on hers.

“Done.”

She looks down at the red mark on her arm, where the blood is slowly forming a bubble. Hell presses his thumb against his lips, parting them slightly. Then he takes his thumb, now glistening with spit, and gently rubs it over the red bubble. The blood disappears, and the tiny hole closes.

"You'll be fine," he whispers, almost to reassure him more than her.

"What does it do?" she pleads, her voice strong.

He looks up at her, deciding what to say. She almost gave up, thinking he will never answer her questions, but he stuns her with a reply. 

"Make you one of us."

"What?"

He turns around and cleans his workstation, unable to look at her.

"Don't fight it."

She moves to the edge of the table but stops as a dizzying spell takes hold of her. Her vision blurs, her ears ring. A tingle spread from her fingers, almost like a numbness. She shakes her hands to clear the feeling, only to have it intensify.

She tries to slide further back on the slab, but the fuzziness in her head makes it impossible to tell which way is which, and she plummets to the ground. Before her body collides with the rocky floor beneath, a strong set of arms breaks her fall. His limbs are stiff around her, unsure of what to do. Kel can’t help the pang of pity she felt at that moment. He truly was just a clueless, lost soul. But he was still the one that put her in this position. She tries to get out of his grip, but she has lost all control over her body. One thing to be thankful for is the lack of drink she’s had since being here. She doesn’t even trust her control over her bladder at this point. The buzzing has grown so loud she can’t focus on anything. Not the deep gaze of Hell’s golden eyes. Not the sudden jerk in his body. Not the way her body flung from his grasp or the way she hit the floor. 

It is just an intense motion filling her being.

***

Hell feels bad for throwing her to the floor, but his mother caught him off guard. He jumps to his feet just as she enters the room. She barely acknowledges him and goes directly to the struggling girl on the floor.

“Listen carefully,” she kneels down and places her lips close to Kel’s ear. “From now on my word is law.”

Hell moves back as Lyssa does her part. He’s heard those words so much, too much.

“My word is law,” she repeats, over and over and over. The mantra. The order. The words that will haunt her every time she closes her eyes. He’s seen it countless times before. Humans, vampires, witches, fae and a wolf. Some of them hold out longer, but in the end, they all lose control over their own thoughts. It is a dangerous game they are playing. The mind is a fragile part of the body. People tend to work their bodies to the extreme; to become stronger, faster. But the mind isn’t as easy to control. You can fill it with knowledge, sure, but what protects the mind?

57 others didn’t know how to do it. She won’t be any different.

“My word is law.” 

The girl is shaking. Hell's heart contracts at the sight. Strange, he's never been affected like this before. He leans against the wall, letting his head drop and his hair falls in his face. The image of nonchalance;; or at least he hopes that's what he portrays. He can't have his mother thinking he is troubled by the sight of a damsel in distress. The others all blend together, men, women, it doesn't matter. He carries out his orders with no hesitation or remarks. He will do the same with Kelaya.

When was the last time you were hugged?

He has been racking his brain trying to remember. Has he ever been? What does it matter? No one needs hugs, it’s a silly show of affection. He has one goal in mind, and so does his mother. They will no longer be exiled to the dark corners of the world. He will no longer be trapped in the shadows.

The girl coughs, and he instantly jumps from his position at the wall. Lyssa’s still echoing in her ear, like a broken record. He walks over, ready to push her away but stops dead in his tracks. He curses himself. How did she get into his head so easily?

“My word is law.”

Lyssa drifts her eyes up to him, then back down to her, stroking the girl’s hair from her face. With one swift movement, she flicks her dress back, stands and walks away.