House of Chaos by K R Alexander

Author:K R Alexander [Alexander, K R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Six Wolves Press
Published: 2019-12-07T18:30:00+00:00

25

Pinned on my back in the dark, crushed by weight larger than life, solid and painful—couldn’t scream. A gag in my mouth, chains on my wrists, real skin this time, no clothes, no way out. Fighting and not moving, calling magic and finding nothing, throat convulsing, tears running into my hair. Pain and shame—and this wasn’t possible because I could fight and think of a way out. Yet I couldn’t.

I sprang back, thrashing with all four limbs, a magic light blazing into my hands, screaming as if falling, throat tearing apart. Smack of my head into something hard, grabbing the quilt, and whoosh! Soft cotton burst into flames. Rush of open air, then I hit the floor on my hip, yelling again in pain, still trying to get away, scrambling across boards.

Flames frisked along the quilt like so many bunches of newspapers. I hit the wall under the window, cowering there, still fighting, hands glowing, needing more and more energy and strength to figure a way out.

The fire vanished while smells of smoke filled the room. Sounds of running steps and Gideon’s voice. Even no longer screaming, I could hardly hear, couldn’t make the words into sense.

Instead, I heard something else. She was pinned to this bed, day after day and night after night. I pressed tingling palms over my ears and couldn’t block it out. Huddled against the wall in my underwear and T-shirt, I still felt the weight, still heard the voice. Not like a memory. Heard it. Felt it. Now.

He couldn’t be here. Not tonight when he was worn out. And what about the protection? So this couldn’t be happening.

Deep breath and know it was a dream. You have magic and friends, Ripley, come on. You have a pack now, right? Something to smile about, and still being alive, and looking out for each other. It’s like a family again. There you go, Ripley, calm down, it’s not … not … not even…

It wouldn’t stop, hand on my throat, body on mine, a gag and chains. I knew they weren’t real, but they weren’t dreams. They felt so fucking real.

Reek of smoke from the fires of hell, burning, sinking. Sweat pouring off me. I was sick—that was it. Too much grieving, too many late nights and pour choices. I had a fever. Nightmares, then fever, feelings that weren’t there. I had a sudden bad flu or something. Sweat soaked my shirt and hair, running down my legs. So hot I felt my eyeballs would dribble down my face.

Another hand, hot and strong, more than the weight and chains and rapist, grabbed my shoulder. Somehow, this house wasn’t that safe. Maybe it had stopped undead, but it hadn’t stopped spirits.

Screaming all over again, I fought back, blast of fire and light, all the energy I could throw at them. It wasn’t enough. You needed quieter magics and cunning and protection to get the best of them. But it was all I had so I cast and scrambled back. Trapped in a corner, pinned here.

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