I let the whip trail along the earth, hissing over the leaves until I stand above the man. He freezes, locked there like prey smelling a predator. I guess he does. All his life he was taught to be the perfect weapon, the perfect slave. It makes them unable to think for themselves, unable to react quickly enough.
It makes them easy targets.
Lifting the whip into the air, I let him hear it coming, enhancing his fear which permeates the air, and then I bring it down again and again, faster and faster. Droplets of blood and chunks of skin spray as I shred his back. When I stop, my chest is heaving, and I loosely hold the whip in my hand which drips with blood, hair, and skin, and the nephilim is unmoving beneath me.
His back looks like mauled meat, but I don’t want him to heal, so lifting his head I rip it off and toss it with the other, leaving them there. Slowly, my madness pulls back with a laugh in my head and I stumble.
Pain hits me and my head spins. During the heat of the moment it had disappeared, but it comes back full force and I drop to my knees on the grass, my body contorting as I try to keep in my screams. Fuck.
My eyes blur as it heals slowly. I feel each cut, each rip stitching back together, and all I can do is crouch here in pain, knowing someone could find me at any moment and I would be sentenced to death. I know what this means—my demise. If they find the bodies, the council will hang me, and it won’t be my wings they take this time, but my life.
Dawn.
She flashes through my mind, she needs me. I can’t leave her. Think, Griffin, think!
“Well, that was impressive,” comes a drawl, and I leap to my feet, spinning to see whoever is there. I crouch in a defensive stance. I won’t let them take me alive, I’ll escape and come back for her.
Titus.
He leans against the tree I was tied to, his face impassive, but there is a smile in his eyes as he watches me. He runs his gaze across the bodies and then back to me. “Well, well, well, fallen. I’ve got to admit, I didn’t expect you to have it in you.”
“I—” I fumble with words, fuck. I can’t kill him, they will launch an investigation and then I will be killed for sure, but how do I get out of this?
Escape is my only option, but I’m weak and still healing, so I won’t get far. I’m at his mercy and he knows it. He sighs before standing up and stepping towards me, ignoring my growl.
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell them I caught these two trying to leave and killed them.” He glances at the back of the nephilim I used the whip on and rolls his eyes. “Not before punishing them, of course.”
I stare at him in shock and confusion, but distrust winds through me. The only reason he would help me, lie to his own people about this, was if he needed something, and I don’t think I could afford the price, but what other option do I have?
“Why are you helping me?” I snap, my voice lined with pain. My energy is waning now and I stumble forward. I need to rest, not stand here arguing, but I have to know why. He notices and looks around before moving closer, his arm held out to help me, but I push him away and straighten of my own accord.
“Come with me,” is all he says, and then he starts to walk. Titus stops at the edge of the trees and looks back, waiting for me. I hesitate, but what choice do I have? Maybe he’s leading me to my death, maybe not, but unless I magically heal and can escape him, I have no other option.
I step towards him and his lips turn up slightly. He waits until I reach his side. My eyes narrowed, I threaten, “Try to kill me or betray me and I will rip out your heart and feed it to the monsters in your dungeons.”
“Noted.” He laughs. “Come, I am not here to harm you, fallen.”
“My name is Griffin,” I snarl, and he tilts his head to the side.
“As you wish, Griffin, come.” Then he turns and winds through the trees and I follow.
He leads me through the forest, and just when I think he’s going to turn around and laugh and kill me, he bends down and pulls open a trap door hidden there. He glances back up at me for a moment before dropping into the dark.
This is a bad idea.
But I descend down there anyway. It’s black, utterly black for a moment before I hear the strike of a match, and then he illuminates the tunnel with a candle. He passes it to me before climbing back up and shutting the hatch. He takes the candle back and then heads down the passageway without talking.
I follow behind him at a safe distance, noticing the cobwebs on the curved walls which are brick and, unlike the dungeon, there are no claw or escape marks. So what is this place...and where does it lead to?
“Where are we going?” I ask, my voice loud in the quiet. He doesn’t answer me but keeps on walking, our boots splashing in the small puddles of water floating at the bottom of the tunnel.
We walk for another five minutes before it starts to curve upwards, then it ends in stairs. Titus places the candle on a holder there and blows it out. At the top of the steps is a square of light escaping through cracks of a thin door frame.
He uses it to climb the stairs and waits for me there, letting me decide what to do. I don’t trust him, that’s for sure, but I can’t go back, so the only way I can possibly go is forward. I follow him up the stairs and wait behind him as he unlocks the door, swings it open, and steps through.
I follow again and look around in shock. Where the hell are we? It has to be in the council’s mansion, but I’ve never seen this room before, and if they were trying to show off power this would be a good chamber to do so. It’s lined with gold. Gold frames house various watercolours of supernaturals in their forms. Golden lamps sit on a mahogany desk in the corner with the lights on. A golden chandelier hangs with what I can only guess are real diamonds.
Everything is gold.
It’s so fucking over the top.
There are two emerald green sofas pushed together in a L-shape underneath a gold, ornate mirror on the left wall with a small table between them. Titus heads to a bar in the other corner, pours two tumblers of amber liquid, and strolls my way. He presses one into my hand before sitting on the sofa, his legs crossed.
Testing him, I throw myself down on the other one, making sure to cover it in blood and sweat, and then I put my dirty, mud-caked boots on the table and cross them at the ankles. Sipping the liquid, I watch him. He doesn’t even flinch or frown, he doesn’t care. That, more than anything, tells me he’s different from the other council members, but why? And why help me?
“Where are we?” I inquire. I struggle not to move around as my back starts to itch with the healing. He sips his drink before placing it on his knee and letting his head fall to the back of the sofa, his eyes closing as he sighs.
“A safe place away from prying eyes. It’s cut into the walls, and only the original council knew about this. They used it as a hideout, a safe room, and to spy on people,” he explains.
“How did they spy?” I press, deciding I might as well get information out of him while he’s talking. It’s rare for him to be speaking, never mind to offer anything.
“Through that mirror, it shows the private council chambers where meetings are held,” he replies without looking at me.
“So why bring me here? Why tell me that? These secrets are dangerous.”
“So are you.” He shrugs.