Feed the Flames

-celine’s pov-

We must’ve walked through five or six hallways by the time we finally stopped. Aside from the hallways, we’d passed through a large kitchen and a dining room and a large sitting room where bookshelves lined the wall. The hallways between these larger rooms looked so similar by this point that I didn’t know where we were in relation to any of them anymore. With each corner we rounded I expected a dead end, with each door we opened I expected a brick wall, and with each step, I did not feel any closer to our goal. Ray seemed disinterested in every painting and bust we walked past, determination more and more prominent on his face with every turn we took. Whether this determination was towards finding Mason or Mikey, I couldn’t quite tell. I felt, however, his priority was the latter, first and foremost.

What frustrated me though was that while I could usually feel someone’s blood, -even through walls if I concentrated- I could feel nothing. I could sense absolutely nothing. All that was in this damned house were hallways and unoccupied rooms that were looking more and more alike. The butler who had chaperoned Gerard and Ronan away had disappeared, and Ray and I were delving so deep into this house I wasn’t sure if we’d ever find a way out.

Ray glanced back at me suddenly, urging me to keep walking. “C’mon, there’s another door up ahead.” Walking through another door at this point seemed like the last thing we needed to do. No matter how badly I wanted to find Mason, I felt like if we got anymore lost in this hell someone would have to come find us. As we reached this new door, I stepped in front of Ray, stopping him from opening it as I dug my phone from my pocket.

‘We need to begin backtracking. If we get lost we won’t be able to help anyone, much less Mikey and Mason.’ I held up my phone for him to read, and Ray looked behind him like he was deciding what to do.

“If we backtrack we could just be getting father away from them.” His voice sounded almost annoyed, and I knew he wanted to find Mikey as much as I wanted to find Mason. To be honest, I would get lost to find him. I would give myself to this house and spend days looking through every room, scouring every hall, and opening every door, but Gerard and Ronan were negotiating with Donald. If they got Mason and Mikey released but we got lost, we would be doing more harm than good. I felt like our fastest way to Mason and Mikey was to just wait for Gerard and Ronan to negotiate their release.

Just as I was about to begin typing on my phone again, I felt the door behind me swing open. Two arms grabbed me and I let out a cry of surprise at the contact. Ray’s eyes widened, his hands reaching out for me, managing to grab my arm, and I got a hold of his wrist, my other hand clutching my phone as tightly as possible.

“Cell!” Ray’s voice barely met my ears as I was pulled back forcefully, my hand letting go of Ray as the door slammed shut in front of me.

I didn’t have a moment to see who had grabbed me.

I didn’t have a moment to see what had grabbed me.

The moment those arms locked around me, fight or flight kicked in. Mostly fight.

There was a heavy knocking coming from the door, Ray screaming my name, the doorknob jiggling. I kicked back at calves, I tossed myself from side to side, I struggled hard against the body behind me, anxiety building. I was just about to scream out again before I was dropped. Falling rough against the hardwood, a firm kick was delivered to the back of my head not a second later, and immediately my anxiety began waning along with everything else. My vision blurred, my head throbbed, my senses jumbled and confused as I winced. The sounds of Ray banging on the door were softening. I saw the outline of a person looming above me but my vision was too foggy to decipher any of them. I felt a stinging sensation across my forearm and I hissed in pain, pulling at my arm, trying to free myself, but I was answered with a soft ‘Shhh’ from the figure.

“No…no…” My words were mumbled and a heavy drowsiness overcame me. With my back flat against the floor, my hearing almost gone, and my vision turning black, I had no chance of winning the fight.
______

I’ve always believed unconsciousness to be a fragile thing. A time when your mind goes into a short hibernation, occasionally hallucinating without your consent, forcing you into good dreams and bad alike. The good dreams were fine. Nothing wrong there whether they’re about good fortune, family, or just something insanely silly that could never happen. Bad dreams however…they were a different story. They could be anything ranging from a phobia, to an awful event, to heartbreak, so on and so forth. But the worst part was that there was never anything you could do about these dreams.

Bad dreams left you absolutely helpless. Always. Nothing was worse than that; than the feeling of being in explicit, unnerving, terrifying danger but not being able to do anything about it. Not being able to fight back, not being able to run, and not being able to just make it stop…it was the worst feeling in the world.

Nothing was worse than feeling helpless.

Sadly, that was exactly the situation I found myself in.

Everything was dark when I began opening my eyes, but as I finally got a decent look at my surroundings, that gut-wrenching feeling began to swarm me.

The room was dark, but I could still see, and though my hearing still seemed off, I could still make out the noises around me. It was a large room, bare concrete walls, concrete floor, a heavy chill in the air, and the smell of blood everywhere. It was a basement. There was a set of stairs against the wall in front of me, leading up to a door which I could only barely see. I was tied to a chair, chains around my wrists and ankles, and one going diagonally across my body, keeping me pinned. There were iron padlocks on each chain. One hanging from each wrist, one hanging from the chain across my chest, and two more for each ankle, I presumed. Holding my head up was difficult for I could still feel whatever drug I’d been given fighting me hard. To my right, there were a bunch of long, rusted, metal rods leaning against the wall, along with a few bags of what I assumed to be cement mix. There were bright lights at the far end of the room to my left.

There was a voice to my left as well, one which sounded familiar, but not one I was accustomed to hearing. It was a man’s voice, and he was begging. “Please don’t do this to her. Not her, please. Please, you can do whatever you want with me, but not her. You can’t do this to her. Not her! Please not her! Just stop!” Looking to my left, there were two other chairs, both of which were occupied, their occupants chained the same way I was. The one next to me held a man in his mid-twenties, about Mason’s age, though possibly a year or two younger. He had dark black hair and was the source of the rather familiar voice.

In the next chair down, however, was a familiar face. It was Mason. He was slouched forward like he was knocked out, his skin was an unnatural white, and he wasn’t moving. There was a black substance dripping from his open mouth and nose, and there was a puddle of the black blood at his feet. He had gone without blood for days now and…in my heart I felt he was gone.

“What are you doing to her?!” The man next to me wouldn’t let my attention rest on Mason for long, and I let my eyes move to what he was screaming at. It was something towards the bright lights.

Past our chairs at the far end of the room were two bright overhead lamps -the kind usually in operating rooms- and a metal surgical table. On it was a woman with long blonde hair, lying on her back, in a bra and panties, unconscious. An IV on a stand on her right-hand side was filled with a clear liquid, and the IV ran into the crease of her elbow, and another IV bag on that stand was filled with blood. That IV ran into her neck. On the other side of her there was a five-gallon bucket sitting on the floor, and a large tube ran into her left forearm. It went deep and I could make out the large tube underneath her skin. There was a thick black liquid coming through the tube. There was another metal table on her left, but from my distance and angle I couldn’t make out what was on top. I supposed medical tools.

Walking around the woman was a man in a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt with a black rubber apron on. He was balding, his light brown hair greying in spots, and he carried a clipboard. He inspected the IV bags, and then walked around to the large tube. I could hear the guy next to me almost sobbing. This woman was of importance to him. She, too, looked familiar. They both looked very familiar, but…where did I know them from?

“Hey-hey, Mason, she’s awake. She’s awake!” The man next to me began talking to Mason, and I quickly returned my attention to him as I saw Mason lift his head weakly.

“Celine?” Mason’s voice sounded almost as bad as he looked, but his eyes were open, and he seemed alert, though shaken. He smiled when he saw me.

The relief was palpable. “You’re not dead.” My own voice felt weak, but Mason smiled a bit more, nodding then.

“It’ll take a bit more to kill me.” That joking, but reassuring tone was prominent in his voice despite his deplorable condition. As Mason lifted his head, his eyes went to the woman on the table. “What is he doing to Rhys?” The identity of the man next to me clicked in my head at Mason’s words. If the woman on the table was Rhys, then the man must be Toby. I remembered them. They were from Mason’s…clan. Toby could cloak himself and Rhys induced memory loss. What were they doing here?

“I don’t know.” Toby’s voice was filled with absolute dread. “He won’t listen to a word I’ve been screaming at him. God, I swear, if she’s hurt…if she’s…” Toby’s voice trailed off, the corners of his mouth pulling down, his lips pressed together as his face scrunched up in pain. Suddenly he jerked his body hard, the chain snapping taunt. “I’ll kill you!” He screamed at the man in the apron, who only glanced back at us with his beady black eyes behind the thick lenses of round glasses. The unidentified man scowled at Toby before returning his devotion to Rhys.

“I’m sorry Toby.” Mason spoke up again, his voice sympathetic as his eyes rested upon Rhys’ unmoving body. “If he hadn’t of picked my brain…you wouldn’t be here. Neither you or Rhys would.”

Toby squeezed his eye shut, shaking his head. “Don’t say that. Don’t talk like she’s already gone, she’s not. She’s just…she’s asleep. That’s all it is, she’s asleep.” Toby opened his eyes finally, but they remained focused on the floor. I looked past him at Mason, who looked at me with sympathy written all over his face. “She was never supposed to die.” Toby’s voice was defeated. I felt a twinge of pain in my chest, and couldn’t look at Mason anymore.

“Where are we going, Gerard?!” Faintly above us, I heard Ray. My eyes shot to the ceiling, and through the wooden floor I could see tiny strings of light filtering through

“I swear if you’re still doing what I think you’re doing, I’ll kill you myself!” Gerard’s angry voice hit my ears, and suddenly the door at the top of the concrete stairs was flung open.

An older man’s voice quickly followed the sound of the door opening. “Gerard, don’t go down there!”

The man in the apron stopped inspecting Rhys and stood still as a statue as a group filed down the stairs, all of them in a rush.

Gerard rushed down the steps immediately, stopping at the bottom. Ray, Mikey, and Ronan followed, the group crowded at the foot of the steps, the four sets of eyes scouring the room, widening. Mikey and Ronan’s faces contorted in terror as Gerard and Ray’s faces twisted up in anger.

“Cell!” Ray began rushing over to me.

“No!” There was a deep bellow from the top of the stairs, and suddenly there was an older man standing in front of me. He flung his right arm towards the wall and Ray let out a scream as he was tossed against the wall hard.

Gerard stepped away from Mikey and Ronan, his teeth gritted as the man in front of me took a couple steps towards him. “I don’t care if you kill rogues; kill all the damned rogues you want, but you can’t do…” Gerard’s voice only got angrier as he looked over to Rhys on the table, the apron man still standing there next to her. “You can’t do this! This is inhumane!”

Toby and Mason were absolutely silent as the older man –who I assumed now to be Donald Way- laughed loudly, clutching a hand against his stomach. “Humane?! You expect me to treat these monsters like anything other than animals?!” I looked over to Ray, who was curled up groaning against the wall. “Gerard, these creatures are not like us. They are not like normals.”

Mikey’s voice was soft, but horrified. “How does that give you the permission to do this to them?” His eyes were glued to Rhys, to all the lines connected to her.

“Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe I’m just some sadistic old man who’s stuck in his ways, but you must agree that something must be done about rogues, no?” There was a smile in Mr. Way’s voice as he spread his arms out. “And that is just what I am doing now.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ronan shuffling silently over to Ray, who was getting to his knees.

“Not this way.” Gerard growled, stepping up to his father, his eyes narrowed, and his voice an angry growl. “You said you were done with this. When Mikey and I left, stopping this was your only bargaining chip in getting us to stay. You said you had stopped.”

“And you two still left. Went off to…what? Become friends with a rogue and his lover?” Donald’s voice was nothing but disgust. I saw Ronan whispering to Ray, and as Ray got to his feet he nodded in response to something between them.

“Cell’s not just some rogue, you fucking prick.” Ronan seethed, stepping up to Donald, taking her place beside Gerard. “Becoming a rogue wasn’t her choice.”

Donald took on a mocking tone at this, his voice sarcastic. “It wasn’t? Of course it wasn’t, dear. Who would want to be a rogue? Who would want this…” The old man glanced back at me, his eyes moving to Toby and then Mason, a scowl on his face. “This disease, if you will?” He clasped his hands together in front of him, and Gerard looked as if he was about to head-butt his father.

“It’s not a fucking disease. Cell isn’t like other rogues, you fuck!” Ronan raised her voice before Gerard could speak.

Donald laughed heartily at this, and took a step to my right, unblocking my view of Ronan and Gerard fully. Suddenly, he crouched down next to me, a grin on his face. “So, please do tell me how different you are from other rogues. Please, plead your innocence as if your life depends on it. Tell me about how you don’t like killing people, tell me about how-” He grinned, resting both of his hands on my left hand, a feigned adoration in his eyes.

“Hey, leave her the fuck alone, you old fuck.” Suddenly Toby spoke up from beside me. As I looked over I noticed Mason seemed to be droning in and out of consciousness. Gerard tilted his head slightly at Toby’s voice, watching him cautiously. I noticed he had taken a step in front of Ronan slightly, as if to keep her back from Donald.

“Oh-ho-ho!” Donald’s voice was animated as he stood up swiftly, stepping over to Toby. “Look who’s decided to speak up!” Slowly, the grin turned into a grimace. “The one who’s been screaming his head off for the past twelve hours, begging for the life of his whore.” Just as the words left Donald’s lips Toby shook in the chair again, pulling at his restraints.

“Don’t talk about her like that!” Toby screamed, and in the moment, chaos broke out.

Just as Donald turned fully towards Toby, his back to Ronan and Gerard, there was a scream from Ronan. “Now!” In a swift movement Ronan reached forward, Gerard stumbled a step to the side in the moment, and laughter met my ears. Ronan had grabbed Donald by both arms, pulling him back a few steps, and I noticed movement to my left. Ray had crept around the room to the man with the apron, and had knocked him to the ground, throwing a hard punch into the man’s temple; he was out before he had a chance to do anything.

“Ronan…” Gerard’s voice was warning, but I could only barely hear him as Donald’s chuckles echoed around the room.

Suddenly Ray emerged off the apron man with a ring of keys in his hand. “Got ‘em!” Just as the words left his mouth the laughter stopped, Donald knocked Ronan off of himself with a hard twist, and flung a hand towards Ray, who flew back hard over the metal table of tools, knocking over the bucket of black rogue blood in the process. Ray slammed against the wall and didn’t move anymore as the black blood from the bucket began seeping across the concrete floor. Mikey was rushing over to him faster than lightning.

“Ronan!” Gerard cursed, and moved to kneel beside Ronan.

The set of keys however, stayed frozen in the air by…telekinesis, I supposed. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” The sound was sharp as Donald reached a hand out towards the keys, and they slowly moved through the air towards him before he clasped his fist around them. He turned to Ronan and Gerard, looking as if he was about to scold Ronan on her attempt at a ruse, but instead his shoulders fell and he groaned. “Oh please Gerard, don’t play that card on me.”

Mikey suddenly spoke up again from where Ray had fallen. “Let them go! You have no reason to do this to them!” Mikey stood from Ray’s side, anger on his face but I could see the confusion hiding in his features as he stalked over towards Donald, stopping a couple feet away on Mason’s right.

For a moment everything was silent. Donald appeared to be deep in thought as he looked down at the keys in his hand, then looked back at the three of us chained up still. “Alright,” Donald turned to look back at Gerard as he was helping Ronan to her feet. She looked like she could rip Donald’s head off herself. “I’ll let one of them go. Only one, the others stay with me.”

“Fuck you.” The words were spit from Gerard, and Donald scoffed.

“Oh my goodness, boy. You didn’t even blink.” The grin returned to Donald’s face and he stepped to my right again, gesturing to the three of us in chains. “Go on. Choose one. Just one.” Gerard looked at me and then at Mason, who was lifting his head now.

“Take her. Celine; take her.” Mason’s voice was nothing more than a weak demand, but Gerard’s eyes rested on Toby, who was twitchy and looked as if he was nearing tears.

Stepping up to Toby, Gerard leaned down to his ear, his voice so soft even I couldn’t hear it. But then he raised his volume ever so slightly. I could tell he meant for these words to be heard. “To be honest, you seem like the strongest one here.” I barely caught the words, but as my brain was racked with confusion, Gerard winked at me. A sort of assurance, I supposed, but the confusion overshadowed it. As Gerard stood up straight, I knew he had made his choice. He nodded to Toby, a sort of resigned tone to his voice. “I’ll take him.”