The Chilling Change Of Air (Elemental Awakening, Book 3) (3 page)

I desperately didn't want to feel defeat. I knew to allow even a smidgeon in could be my downfall. Pain was not my enemy. The loss of hope was. But no matter what I did I kept coming up against harder and darker and infinitely more evil walls.

I'd survived the
Gi
. I could survive this.

"Bring it, old man," I said with a nasty smile.

"You are so much fun, my dear," he murmured. "And because you've delighted me this day, I have a special treat in store."

I would not let his words affect me. I would not hope or fear. I would not.

"Come, come," he encouraged, actually helping me sit upright on the bed. "First the stitches, then your reward."

I bit my lip through the removal of the thick, dark thread that had held me together, not allowing the sting of each tug as the stitch was removed from newly regrown skin to show. The doctor only smiled at my pathetic attempt at strength. When he was finished he carefully re-buttoned my shirt, like a father tending a child. I truly hated these ancient beings.

I attempted not to shuffle as he led me from the cell, but my legs were so heavy, my stomach so empty, my soul crying out to be fed. My bare feet caught on every obstacle, but I was beyond feeling the discomfort of a sharp stone or protruding brick stubbing my toe. I limped along beside him, drawing on what I could of the mould and lichen that grew sparsely through the space, feeling my
Gi
stir, but do little else.

I sucked in a breath hoping it might stimulate Air to come find me, but that Awakening would happen when I least expected and not on demand. I listened for more prisoners, but as always, once outside my cell it appeared I was the only one being held here. The adjoining rooms were empty, their doors ajar, no occupants trying to get out.

Not for the first time I wondered if the screams were in my head, or simply recordings made to break me down. It had worked today.

We took the path we always took so I recounted my steps, reaffirmed what I'd learned of my surroundings and made sure nothing had changed that could be used against me. It used to be that I'd assess everything for something
I
could use against them, but that had stopped several weeks ago now. I just looked for the unforeseen punch before it hit me on the jaw.

Today was definitely a get hit in the head day, because we passed the lab where the doctor experimented on the
Rigas'
command. Where the vivisections were performed and I lost more blood than a normal woman could survive. Where parts of me were excised, parts were electrocuted, and yet other parts were poisoned, pickled, replaced with God knows what and then reopened to see what grew overnight.

Where the doctor would hold up my heart while it beat in his hand and ask me if anything looked unusual to me. And then laugh.

I'd survived it all.

But as we passed a corner of the dungeon I had not traversed before and came to stand in front of a non-lab-like room, with a glass frontage that allowed people to view the internal goings on inside the space, I knew I would not survive this.

A chair was brought up and I was pushed into it. Too numbed to consider the action kindness. Too heart broken to pay attention to the guards who watched avidly from the sidelines. Too sickened and confused and out of my mind to understand what I was seeing.

But I knew why.

The doctor sat down beside me in another chair, his eyes on me not the spectacle behind the glass.

"You see, dear," he said. "He lives. He is quite resilient, like you. And a true
Pyrkagia
. The Prince knows when he is beaten. He knows how to play the game in order to survive. He's over three thousand years old, Miss Eden. Do you really think he doesn't know the rules?"

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, my eyes unable to look away from the scene before me.

"Because you needed to see the truth," the doctor advised as though he was doing me a favour by breaking my heart. "Because you've been holding on to something that does not exist."

"He's my
Thisavros
," I whispered.

"No, Miss Eden. He is not. Because you are not an
Ekmetalleftis
. You are an Alchemist creation and it is time you helped yourself, rather than holding out for a lover who spurns you at the first opportunity to further his chance of survival."

This couldn't be happening. This was a trick. A cruel ploy to finally break me. They knew I'd weakened. Today the first day I'd let the tears fall and screamed my frustration and despair. They knew they almost had me, so they were pushing the knife in further and twisting the blade. Just to be sure.

I stood up from the chair and took a step toward the glass wall. The guards stiffened, but the doctor lifted a hand to get them to remain where they were. My eyes were just for Theo, I walked as purposely as I could, determined to not show how battered and bruised I actually was, and came to rest on my side of the glass.

My hand lifted, dirt stained, jagged nails, a filthy unkempt mess, and rested on the glass.

Theo's head turned slowly and gold stared me down. There was no recognition there, not even a flicker of shame or embarrassment or anger at being caught. Just a blankness that told me my Theo no longer existed.

A shell in remarkable good health, no abrasions, no dirt, not even a stitch in his chest to be seen. And in a stoneless cell. It was still a cell, but it was a well appointed one. Fire in the hearth, fresh fruit in a bowl on a table to the side, soft lighting, plush carpets, fresh linens and a four poster sumptuous looking bed.

"Theo," I whispered and he blinked.

Then turned his head back to his companion, laughed at something she said, and lowered his face to kiss the side of her neck.

The confusion gave way to rage. A type of possession fuelled jealousy and anger that I had never experienced before.

The Earth cried. I was too far gone to hear it.

The Fire in the hearth flickered and hissed. I was too enraged to care.

The Air froze. I was too busy trying to break the glass and kill Isadora Petros where she lay, half under my
Thisavros'
bare chest.

"Take her back to her cell," the doctor was saying. "I think we can call today's experiment a success. I'll inform the
Rigas,
although I'm sure he won't be amused. We were hoping the connection had been severed on both sides, but clearly the girl still harbours something deeply rooted in her Elements for the Prince."

No. No. No. The only word that I truly heard was "severed".

They'd severed Theo's
Thisavros
connection to me. They'd made him into this.

The jealousy I felt still lingered, but in its place was pure hatred and fury.

The first guard to touch me received a jolt of Fire through his hand, sealing his grip to my arm as I fed off his
Pyrkagia
.

"Idiot! Where are your gloves?" someone yelled, as pure molten Fire coursed through my veins.

The next guard was wearing gloves, enough of a protection to stop me syphoning his body heat, but I was already blazing brightly, I just amped up the lust he'd been feeling while he watched that debauched show and fed off the
Pyrkagia
he started to throw around as his desires turned to me.

I was still a little new to all of this. In the past I'd inadvertently made Theo experience emotions that I wouldn't have chosen to subject on anyone, least of all the man I loved with all my heart. But I didn't have time right now to heed my conscience, I ramped up the draw, increased the guard's passionate response and then hurled my
Pyrkagia
outwards in an ever increasing circle of Fire.

I was left panting, hands fisted at my sides, sweat beading my forehead, as every person in the room lay unconscious on the floor. How long they'd be out for, I did not know.

I turned slowly to look into the glass walled room and found Isadora standing on the other side. We stared at each other. Her blouse was undone at the top, the curves of her perfectly shaped breasts were visible through the opening, displaying golden skin flushed with her recent activities.

I was going to kill her.

Then she spoke, clearly audible through the glass, so I was picking Theo had heard every word the doctor had tormented me with earlier.

"The key is on the guard by the door." I blinked, sucked in a surprised breath of air. "Hurry. They won't be out for long."

"What's wrong with him?" I demanded, as I helped Isadora shoulder some of Theo's unstable weight as we snuck down winding hallways and ducked behind hanging tapestries on the wall.

"I don't know. This is the first time I've managed to get in to see him, and clearly that was because they wanted to put on a show."

I let her words digest. But I refrained from asking. They'd been in a rather compromised position. It may well have been the first time she'd been to see him, but how long had she been there and what had transpired before I arrived?

Theo had been naked. Isadora was not. Although the obstacle of her clothes had not hindered his access to skin. And she could have redressed at some stage, not that I thought she was particularly modest, but surely no one likes to be on display for a bunch of horny
Pyrkagia
guards.

Even someone as model perfect as Theo's Dora.

I sucked in a deep breath and hefted Theo's arm back over my shoulder from where it had fallen slightly.

"Do you have a plan to get us out of here?" I asked, perhaps a little more sharply than warranted.

No. It was freaking well warranted.

"Someone's waiting at one of the hidden tunnels."

"Who?"

A noise sounded out around the corner. The too precise stomping of more than one set of boots.

"Shh!" Isadora reprimanded. Bitch.

We ducked under a tapestry and slipped inside a nondescript wooden door. Dust floated up to greet us and I covered my mouth to prevent the cough that wanted out. Isadora did the same, but no one had warned Theo, and I was thinking Theo was worse than I'd feared. Because he wasn't communicating, he wasn't holding his own weight, he was simply a simmering mass of
Pyrkagia
heat, a fire wanting more fuel and having been denied.

He started coughing. First a small grunt, a hitched breath, and then it was obvious he was really going to let go, rousing the suspicions of the guards down the hallway and giving our makeshift hiding spot away.

"Do something," Isadora demanded, as though I had a convenient bottle of water to soothe his itch. "Argh!" she growled, when it was obvious I was clueless on how to stop Theo from hacking up a lung.

And then she turned into his body, wrapped a hand around his jaw, tilting his face down to hers, shot me a disgruntled look... and kissed him.

Full lips on lips, tongue tangling, saliva sharing, deep, passionate kiss.

For a second I just stood there, mouth agape, heart pounding in my chest, and then she was against the far wall, my hand wrapped around her throat and Fire rolling up my arm to singe her face.

Theo stumbled behind me, then in a scratchy voice said, "Dora?"

My heart broke in two and the Fire flickered out.

"He doesn't know you," Isadora said, still trapped under my grip at her throat. "I don't know how much memory he has lost, but we can assume he's lost all knowledge of you. That's what broke it. The
Thisavros
connection."

"How?" I asked, looking over my shoulder, unwilling to release my grip on the whore's throat, my eyes aching for the look of confusion and loss on Theo's face.

I wasn't fooling myself. It wasn't loss for me. It was loss of Dora's lips on his mouth and the
Pyrkagia
she'd been fuelling him.

"Hungry," Theo muttered. "So hungry."

"They drained him, I should think," Dora whispered. "I don't know exactly how it was done, but I mentioned you when I first arrived. I asked him if he'd seen you."

I didn't want to hear any more.

"He asked me who Casey Eden was."

My hand let go of her throat and I stepped back, wrapping my arms around my waist.

"Can it be reversed?" I asked numbly, sinking onto an old crate of some stored goods.

"I have no idea," she answered, her voice careful as though she felt my pain. Isadora Petros was not a compassionate person. She loved Theo. She hated me. She despised the fact that I was his
Thisavros
and she wasn't. Had never been. "The answer lies in how it was done," she added. "Maybe time will right..."

"Don't," I snapped. "Don't give me false platitudes."

"Well, clearly you've not grown up an iota since we last met," she sneered.

I didn't have it in me to argue.

"Let's get out of here," I suggested instead.