The floor was clean if a little dusty. Across the empty room, a brass cigarette box sat ominously in a ring of salt. A dog cage, big enough for a wolf, sat in the corner. A hunched over figure laid behind the bars, shivering but not making a sound.
I tried to move my arms, but a loud clunking noise alerted me to the iron shackles wrapped around my wrists. As a Demon, iron did not burn me, but they were substantial enough that I felt the skin on my wrists chafe as I moved.
As before, the door was unseen. Locked away with magic that obscured the senses. The floor was hard, and I shifted positions when my legs grew numb. Sitting still was difficult for me, it was one of the reasons that I did not inhabit bodies for long. It was always obvious that I was inside if you knew where to look. The constant clicking and tapping that Dirk had often chastised me about.
“Will you stop that?” It was a question and demand at the same time. Why did humans never explicitly say what they wanted? A female voice, weak but fierce.
“I'm hungry,” I said blithely, staring at the ceiling and the florescent strip lights. “How long have you been here?”
“Frankie?” Riley Fisher hissed, pushing herself into a sitting position, her head brushed against the ceiling of her small cage. “What are you doing here?”
I shrugged, wondering if Dr. Daniel was listening and if it was wise to inform Riley that I wasn't Frankie Gardiner, but a Demon wearing her body.
“Why are you here?” I waved my hand, but the movement was restricted by the heavy shackle. “Do you have Fae blood in your family tree?”
Riley shook her head. “A hundred percent human.” She sat up, alert. “Is this about the homicides? Is that why we're trapped here?”
I had forgotten that I had told Riley about the possible traitor and his desire to kill the Fae living in the compound.
“Did you see who took you?” I asked.
Riley shook her head. “I was jumped outside the Mess Hall.”
The light flickered, and the box shook before settling down.
“Have you seen what's in there?” Riley's eyes were full of fire. “It’s a damn genie.”
“Ifrit.” I corrected. “But they do grant wishes.”
“How did you know that?” She squinted.
I glanced around for a camera, but could not see one. I allowed my eyes to bleed into black for just a second before blinking the dark was away. Riley swore and sat up, wrapping her hands around the mesh door of her dog cage.
“I don't even want to know.” She shook her head to herself. “Has anyone been looking for me?”
I winced but said nothing. The box rattled again, but it stopped before the salt line, locked in place by the simple anti-Demon ward.
The door appeared like someone took a marker and drew the threshold, sliding open to reveal a tall, dark figure.
I knew that hair, unruly, and curled at the ears. The three-day-old scruff and dark eyes that were full of past pain and new punishments. The bottom lip of his mouth was plumper than the top, curled into a harsh smirk.
Warren Davenport.
I didn’t want to believe it. My heart stuttered and shattered. All of the energy left my body and turned my limbs to wood. Inside, I grew cold.
Angrier than I had ever been, I remembered every close moment that we had together. Had it all been a lie to get closer to me? What had been the purpose? My world had folded itself inside out, and nothing made sense.
Then his skin melted, dissolving and rebuilding like wax until the much shorter, freckled face of Dr Daniel Gardiner stared back at me. He stepped into the room, his clothes hung from his body, much too large.
“You’re a Dead Ringer,” I whispered.
Dr. Daniel smirked for the first time since I had met him. “Got it in one, sis.”
Dr. Dan’s arms spread wide, he looked the most relaxed I had seen him in months. “Any last words?”
I jerked against my shackles, but they stubbornly stayed in place. “You’re Fae.”
Daniel looked down his nose at me as if I was dim. “Yes. Unfortunately.”
“What does that even mean?” Riley interjected. Dr Dan raised his leg and slammed his steel-toe boot against the bars of Riley's cage, startling her backward with the aggressive display.
“Don’t you remember?” Daniel's smile turned bitter. “Your kind did this to me. Made me this way.”
He was looney tunes, as he approached the salt line and looked down thoughtfully.
“The Fae killed my family. They took my humanity from me. You all need to pay.” He continued, not looking at either of us as he spoke.
“You realize that Riley isn’t Fae, right?” I asked carefully.
“She's here for a different reason.” Dr. Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing his brow. “And you're here to die, sister.”
The brass box shook, scraping against the concrete floor as if to punctuate his point.
“You have to be born Fae,” I told him. “You can't make someone Fae.”
Anger cracked across his face like a slap. He turned to me, eyes bulging. “Liar!” Daniel shrieked. His abrupt shift made me jump like a twelve-year-old playing a horror game. “You’re a damn Blood Sidhe, Frankie! You did this to me, you damn half breed!”
“Fae can't lie.” I countered smugly.
Daniel was red the face and heaving with rage. He stared at me like he wanted to peel the skin from my bones. Without a word, Daniel marched back to the salt line and drew his heel through the circle, disturbing the ward.
He kicked Riley's cage once more and then left in a flurry of flaring nostrils and evil looks.
The brass cigarette box was so tiny, almost too small to hold a creature as powerful as an Ifrit. The smoke leaked from the keyhole, and began to fill the room; I quickly recognized the creature from my dream. I struggled against my bonds, tearing my skin and coating my shackles in blood as I tried to get away. I debated gnawing my arm off like an animal in a bear trap, but instead, I squared my shoulders and met the glowing eyes of the Wish Demon that had burned through Davenport's Hunter’s.
I nodded a greeting and spoke in the harsh sweeping tones of Cyclian. The language of Hell. <Greetings, Demon>
The burning eyes of the smoky demon did not leave mine as it ate up the distance between us and plunged into my body, tearing apart every tendon before snapping them back into place.
I shrieked, collapsing. Sobbing, with snot rolling down my lip, as I shook.
“Why?” I asked, reverting to English. “What did I ever do to you?”
The Ifrit glanced once at the box before the torture began anew. His touch felt like razor blades as my skin peeled away and folded back like a blooming flower.
<I am as commanded.>
I could withstand anything, I told myself. I had the collective memory of Ba'el's tortures burned into my body. My siblings had experienced similar, if not worse at the hands of the once King of Wrath.
I could withstand. I could hold the line.
<I have long since grown tired of revenge. To stop me, you must kill me.>
My mates would come for me. Their bonds were alive in me, reinforcing mind and stopping the pain from stripping away my sanity.
Daniel had to be near. As long as he was busy, in hiding, directing my torture like a temporary art exhibit, he was not killing Hunter’s.
Hours passed.
Blood splatter and pain.
No escape.
Never-ending.
My men would come for me. Remi, Hart, Jae, and Hugo. Even Davenport.
They would come.
I knew it.