The Heart's Ashes (67 page)

A sudden shock
of electric panic rushed through my limbs, forcing my heart into my
throat as footsteps scuffed down the steep, echoing staircase.

I wish I could be small, invisible, so he’d come in and not
be able to find me. What tool will he be carrying, what thoughts
does he have in his mind right now for what he knows he’s about to
do—how he
knows
I’ll cry when he does?

“
Ah, you’re awake.” Jason peered over me and sniffed
thoughtfully. “Well, then we can begin.”

“
What’re you gonna do?”

He walked
across the room with a flaming torch in hand and spread light to
another one on the wall. “I need to test your instinct for
survival.”

“
What does that mean?”

Light warmed
my face when he set the torch down on a pillar near the table of
tools. “It means I need to see if you can escape—when pushed to the
limits.”

“
Escape?”

He cupped the
seat of the chair and pushed, rolling it up to sit. “Yes. When
strong, the four guards I have standing at the entrance should be
like ten-pins to you, but, given your current state of
deterioration, I doubt you’ll have much fight left in you, but I
need to test it anyway.”

“
Why? You’re going to kill me, what does it
matter?”

“
Well, we still have a while to go before we kill you. The
scientists need to know what methods of restraint to use. We can’t
test that in the lab, or you might destroy expensive equipment.
So—we do it here.”

My head
twitched, a tight trembling resonating from my neck. “How’re you
gonna do that?”

He stood in
front of me and pushed his black sleeves up over his elbows. “Same
as I would any other animal.”

Animal? My
fingers flexed when he reached for my arm. “What are you
doing?”

“
Shh.” He rolled the fastening crank on the cuff, and one came
loose; my hand flew to my lip, smearing the itchy blood away at
last with the soothing, ice-cold of my fingertips, then scratched
my head, my neck, my knees—like a flea-infested animal.

Jason stared
at me with one brow arched, his fingers hovering over the other
cuff. “Feel better then, do we?”

I nodded and
watched him wind the crank. “Why are you doing that?” The cuff came
loose; I rolled my scabbing wrist between my fingers.

“
Because I’m going to hit you, and you’ll need your hands to
block, or fight back.”

“
Hit m—Ah!” The dull clap of flesh on bone thundered through
my head as I flew back in the chair, pain turning to tears in my
eyes. I bawled, wiping a shaking hand across my upper lip. My nose
felt blocked, like I had a cold.

“
Break free!” he growled.

I wriggled my
toes. “How?”

“
Break free!”

“
I can’t.” I traced the walls with my gaze until I looked into
his. “My feet are tied. How can I possibly—” Darkness consumed the
room, forcing me into an imaginary black cave as my eyes shut tight
with the crack of a deep blow across my brow. Crunching vibrations,
like biting sand, resonated out through the back of my head—ringing
in my ears.

My mouth
opened, but only saliva came out, gathering in the corners of my
mouth, mixing with blood as it dribbled down my chin; I pressed
both hands to my head, howling silently with raging agony.

“
Come on, Ara,” he said, “I’m giving you a fair chance here.
Get up. Fight.”

The gaping cut
on my lip flapped when I shook my head. Cringing, I touched my
fingertips against it, drawing them away when I felt the wide
gash.

“
Open your eyes,” he ordered. “Now! Or I will hit you
again.”

Fighting
against the pulsing tightness in my temples, I forced my eyes open;
everything was blurry, and though I could only hear a rushing of
white noise, like wind through a seashell, I knew I was crying
aloud—really loud.

“
Stop whining.” Jason’s voice reverberated through my ears.
“Fight!”

“
No.” My eyes slammed shut, my head whipping away from his
sudden movement—but he didn’t strike.

Cautiously, I
inched one eye open. Where did he go?

Cold hands
fumbled around my ankles before Jason stood and grabbed my wrist,
shouting “Get up” as he swung me to the wall beside the stairs.

My weak legs
failed and I stumbled, catching the wall, but the oozy slime
attacked my grip and sent me sliding down, jolting my head back as
my nose grated a brick. Blood burst out over my chin and slithered
behind my teeth as I hit the floor.

“
Get up. Escape.” Jason stood over me. “Show my guards how
strong you are.”

Holding my
forearm to the smarmy wall, I managed to clamber to my knees,
pressing two fingers over my severed lip, folding the flesh back
into place.

Please, Jason.
They’ll hurt me if I go out there.

“
I’ll
hurt you if you don’t.” He
ripped my wrist away from the wall, forcing my shoulders into a
spin, my back hitting the ground, then, dragged me behind him, my
lungs tight with the position of my arm above me, my breath
restricted. Jagged pieces of rock under loose dirt ground into my
hips and spine until Jason ditched my arm forcibly, sending me face
first to the dirt floor. I cried out, pressing up on my hands,
rolling the soil from my throat with my tongue, then coughing it
out. My mouth dried so bad I couldn’t even make enough saliva to
spit, and the gash on my lip could only bleed away the dirt jammed
deep within the cavity.

Jason grabbed
my arm and lifted me again.

“
Please—don’t.” I hid behind my hand. “Please, just stop
hurting me.”

“
Not until you attempt escape.” He threw me, spine against the
wall, then stood up and grabbed the flame torch from the
mount.

“
I can’t, Jason. I never knew I had the power before. I don’t
know how to call on that now.” My lip stung with each
word—especially the ‘p’.

“
Then you are not only weak of body, but of mind.” He smiled
down at me, then grabbed my ankle and pulled, landing on my chest,
my arms pinned under his shins, his knees holding my temples in
place. “Do you know how hot the oil in this torch is, Ara?” He
rested his thumb to my brow, forcing my eye open under the heat of
the nearby flames.

“
Oh, God! Please, please don’t.” As I spoke, my lips brushed
his crotch—just one more inch and I could bite him and run. I tried
to wriggle down, but he was too heavy.

“
I’m going to give you one last chance, Ara.” The heat came
closer; its hot light glowed orange against his face, and moisture
broke out across my brow.

“
I’m trying.” I kicked my feet, forcing my thumbs through the
lace on the sides of my dress as the scent of smoke and kerosene
choked me, reminding me of a camping shop.

Jason sighed,
tipping a few droplets of hot, sizzling oil onto the dirt beside my
cheek. My eyes followed it. “Last chance.”

I screamed
out, a rolling growl, the only fight I could offer. I have no
power. I can’t break free. I’m useless, stupid and weak. I can’t do
it.

I thrashed
about savagely, like a child throwing a tantrum. If I could just
get my thumbs up, I could stab him in the groin—but he was too
heavy, and my puny, pathetic arms couldn’t shift his weight.

“
Time’s up, Ara,” he said and moved his hand so his thumb
rested at the base of my eye, the other one spreading it open from
just below my brow. The heat burned my icy cheeks while my corneas
shifted nervously.

No. Not the
eye. Anything but the eye.

I screamed—my
desperate cry cutting the air like acid on metal.

Get off me.
Let me go. Let me go.

He leaned
closer and peeled my eyelid a little further open.

No
. I rubbed the base of my skull
sideways against the dirt. I have to get free, I have
to…

The light of
the torch moved away and my skin tightened with the sudden cool.
Slowly, I opened my eye—the other one rolling back from its absence
behind the socket. Jason glared down at me; his green gaze focused,
then, he took a quick glance over his shoulder.

Is that it—is
he going to do it, or is this just another horrible, tortuous
anticipation?

He dropped the
flame pole to the ground and rested both thumbs to the inside of my
eye—cupping my temples with his fingers.

What are you
doing?

My eyes closed
again as his thumbnail angled against the inner corner of my
nose—right beside the tear-duct. A sharp, quick sting ripped
through the skin. “Ow!”

“
Get up.” Jason jumped off my chest.

I sat bolt
upright, covered my eye and rested my head against my knee,
watching the torch of terror still rolling around on the ground.
“Why did you do that?”

The vampire
grabbed a handful of my dress and before the tension spread through
my legs, he ripped a wad of lace from the base and offered it to
me. “Put this over your eye.”

I looked up at
him; he stared back, then rolled his eyes.

“
No.” I shrank away as he shoved the lace into my palm,
releasing it into a tight spring back to the safety of my
body.

“
Put it on your eye,” he ordered again.

With shaking
hands, I cupped the soft fabric over the nip. The lace was cool
enough to soothe the sting a little, at least. “Why didn’t you do
it?”

He released a breath of impatience as he placed the torch
back in the mount on the wall. “Because, Ara, there are some things
even
I’m
not
capable of.”

“
So you…you…”

“
Enough.” He grabbed my arm and hoisted me off the ground. “We
need to hurry. The council will return to the viewing room soon and
they will want to see this next test.”

I stumbled
feebly to the chair, by guide of his hand on my arm, and fell
heavily into it, holding my severed lip in place with my top teeth.
A heady wave of nausea rippled my insides; I closed my eyes and let
the world spin. “Jason?”

The thick
metal clamp wrapped my wrist again, warm and tight. “Yes.”

“
My throat’s really dry.”

“
And I should care?”

“
Please.” A crackle constricted my throat, forcing me to
cough—the tight cuff tugging my wrist, ripping the skin further as
my body convulsed.

He stood,
waiting until I caught my breath again, my eyes watering, my gut
heaving.

“
Put your other hand in place.”

The chair felt
moist and sticky under my elbow with the sweat, blood and probably
tears eternally belonging to the wood. “Where’s that music coming
from?” I asked.

“
What music?”

I strained to
hear it then, blinking tightly. “It’s—can’t you hear it?”

He paused a
long moment. “No.”

“
It sounds like that song—the one in the box.”

“
The box?”

I nodded,
feeling heavy, exhausted. He rolled the chair back and I closed my
eyes, the gentle hum of that melody taking me to my room, to the
night before I married David. “Yeah, the box.”

“
Ara?” He appeared over me, his hand on my brow.
“Ara?”

I opened my
eyes to his insistent tone. A tense version of Jason stared back at
me, reading my face, I think, his thumb resting just between my
brows.

“
What?” I said, closing my eyes again.

“
Yes,” he said, and space followed. “I think she might be
sinking down.”

Sinking down?
I turned my head to look at him—on his phone, across the room.

“
I’m not sure how much longer she’ll last. She’s
delusional.”

Delusional?

“
Yes. She mentioned him a few times while sleeping. I’m not
sure, but I don’t think we have time for that. I’ll see what I can
do. Just make it quick.” He rubbed his brow. “I said make it quick!
She’s…yes, I’ll be handing her over soon. Just hurry
up.”

A soft, nearly
hysterical laugh jiggled through me; I almost felt like I was
sitting on the teacup ride at a fair, rocking in a circular motion.
It felt nice, soothing, while the music made my hairs stand on end,
surrounding me, as if a musical ghost was making rings around the
chair.

“
Ara, why are you laughing?”

“
I—” I burst out again, the torturer’s concerned eyes
hilarious. “Y—you’re so serious.” I sobered and put on my best
‘Joker’ face, delivering a line from the last Batman movie I
saw.

Jason didn’t
find it funny. He closed his eyes for a second, then glanced over
his shoulder. I looked too, seeing the little red blinking light of
the camera the coward king used to watch his dirty work be done for
him.

“
Why do you keep looking at that?” I asked. “Who else is
watching us?”

He looked back
at me and leaned closer, a small white flashlight in hand. “No
one—not right now, anyway.”

“
Then why is it so fascinating?” I didn’t even flinch when he
shone the light right in my eyes, as if I couldn’t even see light
anymore—like my eyes were dead.

“
When it’s green,” he whispered so lowly I almost didn’t
hear.

“
When it’s green what?”

“
It means the council are—”

“
It’s green,” I said and he stood back, stiffening. I burst
into laughter again. “O. M. G.,” I said, like a teenager. “You are
so funny. You look like a deer in the line of
headlights.”