Chapter Three

Chapter Three

 

 

“You will get up and come with me, and if you struggle, I will kill you,” he commanded coldly, and Crys had no doubt he meant every word. Afraid to even nod, she let him drag her to her feet.

 

Two more shadows appeared from the woods.

“Let them out,” her captor commanded, nodding toward the wheelbarrow. He then increased the pressure against Crys’ throat, signaling her to move forward. Biting back a whimper of pain, she stumbled forward, towards the woods.

 

They were already deep in the woods when another figure approached the group. Despite the knife pressing against her veins, Crys could not resist gazing up at the seven tall men. They were all so tall; at least 6 foot 5. And they had such broad shoulders. They were giants, monsters! And they are going to kill me, Crys thought. The word kill made her senses reel. Kill, kill, die, death, no! Instinct broke the chain of thought. She was not going to die. They would not kill her. Not without a fight. She was going to escape or die trying. But she had to focus on what the men were saying. She needed to find the right moment.

 

“I have the Vamean,” her captor was saying. The other man studied her.

“What about the male?” the captor inquired.

“He is sufficiently distracted. Even if he makes it out alive, by the time he does, we will be gone,” the newcomer said. His voice was as cold and despicable as that of her captor, and Crys had to fight to suppress her cry of distress. The male. They were talking about Drake. Drake, Drake, what are they doing to you?! Drake, Drake, please be alright! Crys wanted to cry, but instinct told her she had to feign exhausted indifference in order for her plan to work. Her shoulders slumped and her head rested against the blade.

 

“The vehicle is ready and the warriors informed?”

“Yes. They know what to do. We best leave as soon as possible. Did she put up a fight?”

“She is either too sensible or too exhausted to fight,” her captor twisted her so that their eyes met. His pierced cold and cruelly; hers gazed empty and lifeless.

 

“You will come with us, and get into the vehicle without any struggle or noise, or I will kill you,” he threatened again, his horrible eyes intensifying the threat. Crys’ eyes gazed back with indifferent comprehension. She was too tired to care.

 

The blade’s pressure increased, drawing blood, and Crys fought the tears of pain as she staggered forward. The forest floor was uneven; she just had to wait for the right moment. Dry leaves crackled and fell apart under their feet, when Crys suddenly lost her footing over a leaf-covered branch and fell to the floor with a distressed cry.

 

As her captor angrily tore her up from the ground, her body went from defeated exhaustion to skilled warrior. She slammed her body against her captor’s arm, throwing him off balance. Her left fist then went for his jaw followed by her right foot against his groin as her right hand jerked the knife from his hand. 

 

By this time the other men were coming after her. Crys rammed the knife through the first man’s heart with all the strength she could muster, as the second man threw her to the ground. He pinned her arms but she brought her foot against his abdomen and threw him over her in a skilled Judo throw.

 

She leapt to her feet as the first man came after her, grabbing her in a choke hold. Gasping for air, her left elbow connected with his ribs and her right hand clawed at his face. The grip loosened and she began to run, but he grabbed her right hand and bit it viciously.

 

Her nerves reeling, Crys spun around to deliver a knuckle-bruising punch against his liver with her left fist, followed by a solid knock against his throat with her injured right.

 

Another man jumped her, but before she could react, he was flung off her. Her head snapped up to find Drake throwing punches and kicks with a speed she had not known was possible. One man lunged at him but Drake met him head-on, picked him up, and threw him several hundred feet against an enormous tree. The next man lunged at him with a knife, but Drake’s arm lashed out, twisting the knife out of the man’s arm. He then rammed the knife through his throat before whirling around to jam it through another man’s skull.

 

Now there was only one man standing. Drake swiftly grabbed his right arm, twisted it behind his back, and then chopped his hand between his shoulder-blade and neck. The man crumpled and Drake lifted his body as if it were a tennis ball, smashing it against another tree of gargantuan proportions. He then turned to Crys.

 

“You okay?” he asked her, his green, cat-like eyes flashing with worry as he reached for her arms. Crys nodded dumbly. “I… I didn’t know I could fight like that,” she stammered, looking at her scratched and bruised hands in disbelief. “I… I… I didn’t even think. I just… I just reacted! Like, instinct! And… and holy shitsu-suey you threw that guy like a baseball!” she exclaimed, staring at him as they made their way back toward the house. “Took you a while to register that,” Drake grinned.

 

“Now let me see your hands,” he ordered, reaching out for them. Hesitantly she held them out for him to see. He whistled through his teeth. “We’ll have to fix those up sure enough. What happened here? That’s not just a scrape. It looks like, like a bite,” he observed, inspecting her right hand.

 

“He fought like a girl and bit me,” Crys grinned, biting back the groan of pain. Her hand throbbed fiercely from the bite. Drake’s eyes clouded with concern. “He didn’t fight like a girl. He just poisoned you. Come on, we have to hurry!” he exclaimed, pulling her toward the house.

 

As they approached the house, a tall man with silver hair came toward them. Crys shrank back, but Drake’s eyes flooded with relief. “Damon, you got the call! The Restok came. Crys has been bit.” Damon immediately reached for Crys’ hand and inspected it.

 

“This doesn’t look good. We will have to treat it on the way. Come on,” Damon instructed, ushering them toward a midnight black vehicle. “Hurry and get inside! Drake, how many were there?”

 

“A good thirty of them,” Drake answered, getting in the back seat with Crys. She slid in, numbly, too tired and confused to question or protest. “There was a noise outside and I figured it was them, so I thought I would distract them and give Crys a chance to hide, but it back-fired. They knew about the tunnel,” Drake explained rapidly, as Damon set the vehicle in motion.

 

Damon opened his mouth to say something but then changed his mind. “Treat the bite Drake, we’ll talk later.” Drake nodded in response; tore his shirt off and then used the knife to cut into the skin covering his heart.

 

Crys grimaced and looked away. How he could pierce his skin without even wincing was beyond her. He calmly jammed the needle into the open wound and drew blood. Then, ignoring the blood that continued to drip down his chest, he took her right hand with his left, holding the syringe with his right hand. Crys winced as she realized what he was about to do.

 

“It’s going to hurt,” Drake apologized. Crys grit her teeth.

“It’s okay. Just do it,” she told him through her clenched teeth. He inserted the syringe into her open wound and she winced from the pain. The needle pierced deeply into her skin and then he slowly injected his blood and let it mix with her own.

 

Almost instantly, Crys felt the pain and throbbing fade away. “Here, clean yourself up,” Damon said, handing him the first aid kit as he watched from the rearview mirror. Drake plastered a bandage over his wound and then put his shirt back on.

 

Crys continued to watch in amazement as her skin began to regenerate, until the wound had been completely closed up and healed. Her eyes blinked rapidly, refusing to believe what she had just seen. Drake grinned at her various expressions and then reached out for her hand to inspect it once more, carefully stroking the area that had been infected.

 

“All better! You have great skin. Heals fast. Anyone else and it would have taken two days to look like this.”

“Good work Drake,” Damon added. “Skin’s as good as new.”

“It is new.”

 

“Never mind the skin! Who were those men, why did his bite do that to me, and�"did you just say there were thirty of them?!” Crys interjected loudly, her confused eyes darting from Drake to Damon and then back to Drake again.

 

Damon smiled. “You’re just like your grandfather,” he said softly.

“You knew my grandfather?! How�"when�"where�"oh my head! Someone, explain!”

“Drake you had better explain about the Restok,” Damon suggested.

“Yes. Explain, before I’m a complete basket-case.”

“Impatient aren’t we?”

 

“Impatient? You’d be impatient too, if you had strange men with poison in their mouths attack and bite you and then see someone fling them hundreds of feet away as if it were nothing, and, and, well you would be, so stop laughing!” Crys exclaimed, gesticulating with her arms and hands.

 

He finally stopped laughing and grinned at her. “I’m sorry, really, but you’re too cute. Anyway, those men were of the Restok. They’re from a clan known as Acroserpae, which is old tongue for venomous snake. As you can see, they have the ability to inject venom into their victims, and in another half hour you would have either died or morphed into one of them, because the Vame in you has not yet surfaced. That’s why I had to use my own blood as an antidote.”

“Why couldn’t you just use blood from a main vein, like your arm?” Crys interjected.

 

“The blood coming from my heart will have the strongest effect because it hasn’t gone through other parts of my body yet. That’s why I used the knife. I had to get to my heart.”

“Are you meaning to tell me you just pierced your heart and drew blood and never even winced?” Crys asked him, her face painted with horror.

 

“If you were a guardian you’d understand,” Drake answered nonchalantly.

“You are so condescending. Oh, and considering I’m not a vamean yet, which I presume means half human, half vame, how did I manage to react the way I did? I kicked and punched by instinct. How did that happen?!” Crys asked, waving her hands around again as she spoke. Drake was grinning at her again.

 

“Whether you complete the procedure or not, you still have certain instincts that will kick in when you’re endangered. They just don’t reach their fullest potential until guardian blood enters your teeth,” he explained. Crys gagged.

“Gross. So, these acrasoap, acroserpent, acro-whatevers, they’re after me because they think I’m some threat to them, right?”

“Acroserpae, but yes that’s right.”

“Why didn’t they just kill me on the spot? They were going to take me somewhere.”

 

“That is rather odd,” Damon interjected.

“Well I know it’s odd, but why?”

“Crys I’m afraid we may not be able to answer all your questions the way you would like us to because we don’t have all the answers ourselves. There is a lot right now that doesn’t make sense and I know you’re probably running on adrenaline and that things haven’t completely sunk in yet.

 

“It may take a while until everything registers, so before I take you to Vame Haven, I think it will be a good idea for us to spend some time at the old safe house. This way Drake and I can explain everything we know to you before you have to face anyone else in Vame Haven. There are some decisions you will have to make that you cannot make right now in your present condition, such as going through the vamean process and the warrior training, so this will give you a chance to think it all through. Okay?”

 

“Okay.” Crys nodded. “I… I think you’re right. It’s not all there yet. It’s not real. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up. I keep thinking my dad is going to come into my room with a glass of water and give me the count of five to get out of bed before I get wet. I keep thinking my sister is going to climb on my dresser and then jump on me and start yelling ‘tree mo’e weeks till my birfday! Wake up!’ I lost them. For two years I thought they had abandoned me. Or died. And I barely get them back, just barely get them back, and now they’re dead all over again? I lose them all over again? They, they’re not dead. They just can’t be!” Crys shook her head in disbelief.

 

Drake put his arm around her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I know,” he said softly, and his voice told Crys he meant it.

“You two better try and get some sleep. It will take a while to get there,” Damon said. “And if you’re hungry or thirsty, I have some things in the front here.”

 

“Do you have a shower?” Crys asked with a yawn, subconsciously picking a clump of dirt from her hair.

 

Damon laughed. “Everything but a shower I am afraid. But the safe house has one.”

“Do you have any soda?” Drake asked.

“Grotesque stuff. Yes I have some soda. Here you go.”

“Do you want some?” Drake asked, turning to Crys. She shook her head.

“Not hungry, not thirsty, not sleepy,” she answered, resting her head on Drake’s shoulder.

 

Within moments, she had fallen asleep. “Is she asleep?” Damon asked, peering through the rearview mirror. Drake nodded. “Like a baby.”

“Good. I need to talk to you.”

“Yes sir?”

 

“Do you have any clue at all how they knew about the tunnel?”

“None whatsoever. Tristan told me he and I were the only two who knew about it; he built it himself. Not even his wife or Crys knew about it. There were no blue prints; nothing.”

“Is there a chance Crys didn’t close the trapdoor after her, or left it uncovered?”

“It doesn’t account for the men waiting for her at the other end,” Drake replied, shaking his head. “I thought I had the tracks covered. There is a second trapdoor in the bathroom for misleading them. I locked the bathroom door, hoping to lead them down that path, but they had her surrounded from both sides.” 

 

“I don’t understand it,” Damon mumbled more to himself than Drake. He shook his head and then changed the subject. “Breyan has some documents in the safe house. He told me that Crys’ fingerprint should open access to them. He left them there in case something were to happen to him.”
“I don’t think that Crys is capable of going through something like that right now.”
“I know. I am just waiting for her to break down. But we don’t have that sort of time right now. You know that as well as I do.”

“But I also know Crys. She’s nearly traumatized right now. I’ve never seen her act like this. It’s like she isn’t in control of herself. She whips between acceptance, frustration, anger, and apathy.”
“She’s a Vamean. She has more strength than she knows.”
“But she has not completed the ritual yet.”
“There is enough instinct.”
“You know it’s my job to make sure she’s safe. Regardless of any command or order.”

“You know I would never command you to do otherwise.”
“Just, give her a few days to recover. Give her some time to break down first.”
“Two days. No more.”

 

Silence ensued and until they reached the safe house, the only sound was that of the rain steadily drumming against the car.