“No way in hell!” she cried.
“You don’t want to go home?”
“I do, but not like that! I must never, ever—”
“And why is that, hm? A fable from childhood, perhaps?” The man leaned down and ran his fingers along her cheeks. His nails were long and sharp, like claws, but he was careful not to break skin. Not this time. “Just a little song, and you can fly home, my bird. Isn’t that what you want?”
“I can’t. Only very few people can sing the highest note in that aria.”
“I know you’re able to.”
“No, I’m not,” Ciara insisted. “And how the hell do you know about this piece when it hasn’t even been written?”
“Ah, that hurt! I thought you’d remember me,” he replied with a sad sigh. “I guess not. Anyway, do we have a deal?”
“Are you deaf?”
“I’m at the end of my patience, little witch.” He raised his voice and dug his fingers into her back. “If you do not want to sing for me, then I have no use for you! Last chance!”
Ciara cried out in pain.
“Stop!” Her voice was stronger than she felt at that moment. She could feel the magic stirring her blood. But her captor held her firmly. “Let me go!”
“That won’t work on me,” he said, emitting a dark chuckle.
“What?” Ciara stopped struggling for a second. She rarely used her magic, but it had always worked before.
“Oh, you should see the look on your face!” the man said, mirth lacing his voice. He leaned so close Ciara could feel his breath on her face. He whispered into her ear as if he was sharing a grand secret with her. “The blood in my veins is much more powerful than your magic, little witch.”
Ciara didn’t understand the meaning of his words. What she did understand was that the Voice didn’t work on him and she had to think of another way to get out of the sticky situation. She continued to struggle.
Her captor scoffed and gathered Ciara’s hands at her back. He gripped her wrists in one hand.
“I’m getting tired of this,” he sighed dramatically. “Maybe I should just kill you and kidnap that little blondie. What was her name? Kitty? Carol? Karen?”
Ciara tensed at the mention of her cousin.
“How do you—?” She struggled to get free, but his grip only tightened. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and tasted blood. “How would you know her?”
“How did you think you ended up in war-torn Japan? I thought you were smarter.”
He started another monologue, but the pain in her shoulders wouldn’t let Ciara concentrate on anything else other than how to get out of this position. She started chanting. It was nonsense, because she hardly remembered anything from her childhood studies, but he didn’t have to know that. What mattered was that she had his attention. He leaned down to hear better. She murmured quietly and waited for him to get close enough.
She was momentarily taken aback as her sight cleared a little bit and she saw a slightly pointed ear in front of her. But she didn’t let it distract her. Ciara took a deep breath and screamed in that ear with all her might, hitting all the high, painful notes.
Her captor fell back, gripping his ears, and cried out in pain. Ciara immediately used the opportunity to get to her feet and ran away from him. She took a few wobbly steps and looked around. She was in a big room where even the walls were made of wood. She wiped at her eyes, trying to get rid of the fuzziness, but she could only clear her vision for a couple of seconds before it blurred together again. However, it was enough for her to spot a staircase leading up to a door.
She stumbled over to the steps and gripped the railing. She could feel a gust of wind push against her back right before she was hauled to the other end of the room. She landed in a heap, with excruciating pain in her back. For a moment, she didn’t even dare breathe, in fear she had broken something and would make the pain worse. But her instincts prevailed, and she sighed. Her breathing was harsh, and she heard loud footsteps before she was kicked in the side.
“Don’t. Ever.” He emphasized each word with a kick. “Do. That. Again.”
Even coughing was painful when he was finished. She heard the metal hiss of a blade being unsheathed. Ciara closed her eyes and prayed for whatever gods listened to rescue her somehow. Her fingers twitched as she gathered her remaining energy and pushed off from the floor to roll away. The blade embedded into the wooden planks just where her head had been. She felt as if the entire universe was spinning, and she couldn’t get her bearings.
Ciara kicked out blindly as she heard the man approach, and her feet connected with something. She used this moment to get on her knees. It was hard to manage with her balance off.
Another kick landed on her stomach, and this time, she couldn’t fight the urge to throw up. It all happened too fast. She faintly heard the voice of disgust from her captor and shuffling as he moved away. She, too, wanted to get away. The smell was making her nauseous. Again. At least her head had stopped spinning and she could scramble away from that spot.
She grimaced as she looked down on her once nice kimono. Now torn and bloodied, it had spots of vomit over it. She dry-heaved at the sight, desperately trying to fight her instincts.
“Humans are disgusting,” she heard the man say. She glanced up to see a somewhat familiar face framed by loosened black hair. But the eyes… these eyes were ruby red, as if a demon had risen from the depths of hell.
She didn’t believe in hell or heaven, but the sight before her caused her to tremble. Tremors ran through her body and settled in her hands.
“Why are you doing this?” Ciara asked in a hoarse voice. She wiped the edge of her mouth with the back of her shaking hand. Why did he look so familiar? Where did she see him before?
“I’m just a man making a place for myself in this crazy world,” he said.
“Have you ever thought of doing that in a less messed-up manner?” Ciara couldn’t help but ask.
“Hn.” He smirked at her. The red had seeped back to the edge of his eyes before it disappeared. Now that he looked more human, Ciara noticed his clothing was worn, but he exuded the presence of a powerful person.
She blinked, and by the time she opened her eyes, he was only an inch away from her face. Ciara yelped, and he moved away with a grimace. She could’ve sworn she heard him muttering ‘stinky human’.
“Then what are you?” she asked him instinctively. He was holding his nose as he glanced at her. Ciara was very aware of the blade in his other hand. “You speak as if you aren’t human.”
“I am not!” he roared as he once again moved close. This time, he put his free hand next to her head, effectively trapping her against the wall behind her. His eyes were once again red as he glared at her. Ciara held his gaze, more afraid of letting him out of her sight than because of having the courage.
“You tremble,” he said and leaned closer. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck and took a deep breath. “You smell like fear. I like it.” He made a curious sound. Was he purring?
It made Ciara want to run, but there was no escape. He leaned back, his irises still red. He brought the katana up to Ciara’s neck.
“So you won’t help me. You don’t want to go home. You don’t want to save the other witch,” he summarized and, to emphasize his point, pushed the blade deeper into the tender flesh. Ciara felt a slight prickle in her neck. “Because you know, after I kill you here, I will go get her.”
“You son of a—”
“Choose your next words very carefully, woman,” he said.
Ciara opted for a knee-jerk, but he avoided her meager attempt to attack. As soon as she thought she had some leeway, he leaned his whole body on her. She couldn’t move a muscle, and it was starting to get difficult to breathe. Ciara noticed blackness creeping in from the edge of her vision.
“Is your answer still no?”
Ciara couldn’t believe him. Was he so dense? Or was it that he wanted something so desperately that, even in this situation, he’d rather use her, no matter how small a chance for her cooperation. At that moment, the sounds of a fight came from above. They both looked toward the door at the top of the stairs.
Ciara felt her heart hammer in her chest. Whoever that was, they could probably help her. She gathered all her remaining energy and screamed for help at the top of her lungs.
Her captor stumbled away, gripping his ears. He even dropped his katana. Ciara’s legs gave way, and she slid down on the wall. She put a hand on her throat. It came away with blood on her fingertips.
“Shit.”