YOU AGAIN?

Chapter 4

Daemon

I woke up in a strange place, having no idea where I was and feeling like absolute s**t. My head was heavy, every bone in my body ached, and my jaw hurt as though Daniel had decided that biting me wasn’t enough and wanted to leave me with a souvenir as well.

My first visitor was, unsurprisingly, Ragnar. For a long time, he patiently listened to my outraged shouting and demands to be released immediately. I even promised not to call the police if they let me go right then and there.

I’m pretty sure Ragnar decided I was a complete drama queen.

A little later, though, I stopped caring where exactly I was because I was ready to accept any help I could get. I was nauseous, violently sick, and alternating between burning hot and freezing cold.

In my incoherent moaning, I swore I would never set foot in that bar again, and if I ever did go back, it would be exclusively in the company of a public-health inspector. Right up until the bitter end, I was convinced I had been poisoned. And not mildly poisoned, either. I was apparently so badly off that I would either die or become a walking advertisement for healthy living.

My suffering was temporarily pushed into the background when two tall men cornered me and pinned me down. I felt the sting of humiliation and of a needle disappearing into my soft tissue. Almost instantly, a blissful calm spread through my body. My thoughts dissolved like ink drops in water, and I slipped back into sleep.

When I woke again, I found myself in a surprisingly cosy bedroom. It was quite the picture: me, battered and utterly clueless about what was going on, and the same shaved head looming outside the window. I recognised him as one of the men who had recently demonstrated, with impressive efficiency, the superiority of physical strength over my desire to escape.

So, escaping through the window is out of the question.

The bedroom door was locked too. I wasn’t even surprised.

“I’m like the damn Alice in Wonderland,” I muttered, surveying the room. “Every time I wake up, I’m somewhere new.”

“I didn’t quite picture you as Alice." Ragnar’s now-familiar voice came from behind me. “Anyway, shall we go and have some tea?”

He left as quietly as he had appeared. I didn’t hurry after him.

“As long as I’m still alive and all my organs are accounted for…” I lifted my T-shirt for emphasis and inspected myself. “There’s still a chance I can get out of this cult. Lycans. Of course.”

My memory, however, helpfully supplied an image of Daniel charging towards me, growing larger before my very eyes, his body sprouting fangs and claws.

I carefully examined the bitten forearm, now covered in a raised network of capillaries, and put together a new chain of logic. In the end, after muttering a string of curses under my breath, I went looking for Ragnar.

Our conversation didn’t last very long because about half an hour later I started shaking violently again. Ragnar only had time to tell me that he was the elder of the Twilight Wolves clan before giving me a rather concise overview of exactly what I had managed to get myself into and what it meant for me.

The newly turned werewolf I had become was a danger to everyone around me until I learned to control myself. On top of that, I had another ordeal waiting for me: my first full moon. Despite informing me that most newly turned wolves didn’t survive their first one, Ragnar promised to do everything in his power to help me.

Thanks a lot, Daniel!

With every day that brought me closer to the full moon, I grew worse: hallucinations, constant growling somewhere on the edge of my consciousness, a deep ache in my bones, and a horrifying sensation that my own body was slowly becoming something foreign.

I wanted to see Daniel so badly it was driving me insane. I was positively burning with the desire to express my heartfelt gratitude for the wonderfully bright prospects awaiting me in the near future, assuming, of course, that I lived long enough to see it.

A week later, on the night of the full moon, three men dragged me from the cottage to some basement on the outskirts of town. I fought them every step of the way, barefoot, wearing nothing but a T-shirt and lightweight sweatpants.

The moment I was inside, I literally smelt death. The darkness was thick, almost tangible. I couldn’t see a thing, while the three men escorting me moved forward with complete confidence, ignoring my attempts to break free and run blindly in whatever direction I could find. Although, given the state I was in, I wouldn’t have got very far anyway.

While three men held me down, by then completely feral with pain and fear, Ragnar stood at a respectful distance, issuing instructions. I was shaking from terror and agony, and every fresh wave of weakness made me doubt my ability to hold on a little more. I would have kept fighting if I hadn’t suddenly felt the pain begin to recede.

Cold replaced it. Not an ordinary cold, but something so intense it seemed to seep beneath my skin and settle deep inside my bones. Now all I could feel was an icy winter wind slicing straight through me and freezing stone beneath my bare feet. And yet it was still better than the relentless suffering I could never imagine getting used to. For the first time in days, I allowed myself to relax a little.

A distant howl reached me. It was lonely and drawn-out, so mournful that a shiver ran down my spine. Soon the second howl joined it. Then the third, the fourth…

The room gradually filled with a faint, silvery light. I lifted my head and caught sight of the moon through the grating in the ceiling, emerging from behind heavy clouds. It had not yet revealed itself in full, but it was already bright enough to push the darkness back. A strange calm settled over me, and though my teeth were chattering from the cold, I found myself staring at it.

“It’s time,” Ragnar breathed.

I tore my gaze away from the moon.

“Time for what?” I asked.

I received no answer.

I was standing in the centre of a small room that looked like a bunker complete with a heavy iron door. Two massive anchor points were built into opposite walls, thick chains hanging from them with shackles at the ends. Had I been in a different frame of mind, I would definitely have pointed out that I had no particular interest in the b**m lifestyle. But the oppressive atmosphere was hardly conducive to that sort of joke.

Taking advantage of my confusion, the three men quickly locked wide metal cuffs around my wrists. Once they had me stretched out in a cruciform position, I stared at my captors in bewilderment.

I couldn’t even scratch my own nose if I wanted to. If only I’d known that, out of all the things I would wish for that night, that particular one would turn out to be the least likely.

“Guys, what the hell are you doing?” I asked the room at large.

The men merely patted me on the shoulders and backed away, wearing sad smiles.

“Is everyone here completely hopeless when it comes to humour?” I tugged at my right arm, barely making the heavy chain clank.

This can’t be good.

“What’s next? Whips, debauchery, and ladies of negotiable virtue?” I couldn’t resist the inappropriate joke.

The men continued staring at me with mournful expressions.

“What, no ladies?” I continued, unable to help myself.

“Maybe next time,” the youngest one replied, heading for the exit.

“Seymour, stop clowning around!” Ragnar snapped.

“What the hell?!” I started to lose my temper, twisting and pulling against the restraints.

“It has to be this way, Daemon. I believe you can make it through this,” the elder said firmly. “The cold will help.”

“What does the col…”

My own scream cut me off. I felt my bones c***k with horrifying clarity. The pain was unbearable. I collapsed onto my knees, but the chains were too short to allow any real movement, leaving my arms suspended above my head. Another wave of agony tore through me, and my next scream made my ears ring. Dark spots swam across my vision.

Ragnar was standing in the doorway, looking at me with guilt written plainly across his face.

“We’ll be right here,” he said before the heavy door slammed shut behind him.

I raised my head. The full moon shone directly through the window, appearing closer with every passing second. A white veil descended over my vision. My inhuman screams echoed off the stone walls, mingling with the cracking of breaking bones, the howls beyond the room, and the clatter of chains. Everything merged into one deafening cacophony; I had no way to escape. After what felt like an eternity, I finally understood why the chains had been necessary.

The pain intensified, even though I could no longer imagine anything worse than what I was already enduring. Then came the infernal heat. It was so intense it felt as though my blood itself was boiling.

I would have done anything to end the torture. I was ready to sprint headfirst into a wall and smash my skull against it or tear the skin from my own body, if only it would make me stop feeling myself for even a single second.

A metallic taste filled my mouth. My gums were bleeding, and my teeth were loose. Steam rose from my overheated body in the winter cold. The shackles scraped against my skin, and I realised I had already torn my wrists raw trying to rip the restraints from the walls.

Strange that I haven’t gone hoarse from screaming yet. How long is this going to last?

Time dragged like molasses. Every second brought physical pain, clenched teeth, and blood running down my skin. Something was happening beneath it — unimaginable transformations, terrifying beyond anything I could comprehend. It was as though I had been thrown into a grinding mill that kept crushing my body over and over, leaving me nowhere to hide from the pain. The hellish combination of fear and agony bordered on madness, bringing strange hallucinations and broken fragments of memory. My screams gradually gave way to growls, and my lips were torn to shreds by newly grown fangs.

Choking on my own blood, I felt the physical presence of death. It circled me, patiently waiting for the moment I finally gave in.

How many never lived to see the dawn here? How many begged for the agony to end? How many lifeless bodies had been taken down from these chains?

But I was still holding on, without even understanding why. Maybe because dying like this — like an animal on cold stone, shackled and helpless — felt like the very last option I was willing to accept. Or maybe because something wild and primal was already pulsing inside me, something that refused to die.

Everything around me shattered into fragments. I felt my ribcage c***k as though someone was tearing me apart from the inside. I finally lost control of my thoughts and could no longer tell where the pain ended and madness began. I fell backwards, hanging from the chains beneath the weight of my own body.

Seems I’m going to die after all.

“Not today,” a cold whisper sounded inside my head.

Then silence. Not outside. Inside.

Death loosened its cold, clammy fingers from around my throat and vanished with the first rays of the waking sun. The beast fighting its way out finally broke through. The sensations came crashing over me with renewed force.

I could feel the dampness of the stone mingling with the smell of blood. I heard the muffled whispers of the men beyond the door and could distinguish every tiny detail around me. My heart, no longer human, beat calmly, growing stronger with every thump. The chains no longer seemed quite so secure, but I didn’t attempt to break free.

I straightened and looked into the dawn mist hanging over the sky above me with a beastly calmness. For the first time in what felt like endless hours, I felt no pain but only a thick, heavy exhaustion, saturated with relief.

And even if it wasn’t the life I had chosen for myself, goddammit, I survived.