Collector (Spellcrest Academy Book 8) by Michael Pierce

Author:Michael Pierce [Pierce, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ParousiaSix Press
Published: 2024-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

The werewolf servants brought out individual plates of vanilla souffle with raspberry sauce for dessert. Professor Speaks eagerly dug into his, while Elliott picked at his dish with disinterest. I nibbled at the edges of mine, taking in a scent that strangely reminded me of home.

Professor Speaks tried to engage me in more pointless small talk between bites, asking about my life before the Academy, but I was done with his prying. I gave single syllable responses and noncommittal grunts. However, he was oblivious to my standoffishness, continuing to chatter away enthusiastically in his tipsy state.

As the dessert plates were cleared, Professor Speaks leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach in satisfaction. “Well, that hit the spot. Don’t you agree, my dear?”

I simply stared at him, unamused. “You made a promise.”

“I suppose I did,” he said and gestured to one of the servants. “Go on and fetch the poor boy a plate.”

A werewolf approached Devon and removed the ball gag from his mouth. Devon worked his jaw, likely sore from having it forced open for so long. Another silent beast brought over a plate piled high with steak, potatoes, and vegetables.

The first werewolf picked up a forkful of food and brought it to Devon’s lips. Devon opened his mouth to accept the bite, but as soon as the fork was pulled away, his entire body suddenly convulsed, seized by some invisible force. Devon clenched his teeth, riding out the wave of pain.

I turned to the professor, desperate to know what was happening, just in time to see him remove his hand from Devon’s bound and broken arm, lightning between his fingers and the jacket material.

“Don’t choke, my dear boy.” Professor Speaks chuckled. “That’s no way to enjoy your food.”

The werewolf filled the fork and tried again to feed Devon. But just as Devon started to chew, his body spasmed once more, and he had to spit out the food.

“You promised to let him eat!” I shouted, slamming my fist on the table. Underneath the napkin in my lap, my other hand tightly gripped the steak knife.

“And eat he shall,” Professor Speaks replied calmly. “We must simply have patience.”

Over and over the attempts were made to feed Devon, only for him to be shocked with increasing severity each time. Even when he refused, Devon was met with cruel electricity. Tears streamed down his face from the effort it took to not cry out.

I seethed silently, watching this cruel game play out. My knuckles turned white from clutching the hidden knife. I desperately wanted to slide the serrated blade across the professor’s throat.

But I stayed my hand. I knew better than to strike in such a powerless situation.

Stay strong, I thought, hoping the encouragement would reach Devon.

Eventually, Devon was surrounded by the food that had been on his plate. His face was streaked with sauce and tears.

Professor Speaks finally tired of the game. After another sip of wine, he said, “That’s enough. Any more and he may never want to eat again.

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