Page 20 of Her Dark Promise

“I have magic flowing through my veins, magic so strong that I could kill you with just a squeeze of my hand.” I focused my eyes on his leg and began to slowly squeeze. He screamed out in pain as the shadows surrounded him and did my bidding. I squeezed just enough for him to get the point and smiled. “As you can see, it would be in your best interest to tell me the truth before I break every bone in your body, heal you, and then do it all over again and again until you can’t take anymore.”

“I am here alone!” He spat.

I rolled my eyes, and he hung his head, knowing this would be going nowhere at this rate, and sighed in defeat. “Nothing I say is going to prove my innocence. Nothing I say will make you believe me.”

“Well, I have a rather brilliant idea!” I clapped my hands together, excited to finally dig my fingers into him. I walked until I had to crane my head to meet his eyes above me. “And I will even give you a choice.”

He questioned, “A choice?”

“Yes. Would you rather I use my instruments on you?” Lifting a large clamp that was rusted from the many years of use. “Or magic?” I lifted my other hand with the shadows.

I could see him tense again. “And do what with them?”

I ran a single finger over his taut stomach, teasing. He shuddered. “Choose fast. One… Two…”

“Magic!” He blurted.

I grinned, excitement coursed through my veins.

I swiped my hands toward his chains and unbound them, he crashed to the floor with nothing more than a grunt. I knew that his muscles ached from being suspended. Before he could try to move, I cast my magic into his mind and forced him into thinking that he had to stand up and sit in a chair in the middle of the room.

His body moved, as exhausted as it was, into the chair, and laid his arms on the armrests. He stared straight ahead, and I looked down to find that he was gripping the armrest so hard that his knuckles were white. I laughed to myself as I grabbed a few pieces of rope, and strapped his hands, feet, and torso to the chair. I walked around him until I was positioned behind him, bent over, and whispered in his ear, “Wrong choice.”

My hands moved to either side of his head. I closed my eyes and pictured myself entering his mind until I was in a dark, endless space except for the presence of floating images swirling around the room. I walked through his memories, seeing every moment of his life. From his birth to his first kiss to his first fuck.

When I walked in someone’s mind, I could feel what they felt in that moment like it was my own. It was the only drawback to doing this, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

I walked past so many images until the room started to spin, and I was thrown into a rather mediocre-looking home with two small children playing a game together. I took a few steps closer to get a better look, and I could see that my chained-up prisoner was the oldest of the two. He had the same black curly hair covering his eyes and that serious expression he seemed to get when concentrating. He moved a piece on the board and yelled in excitement at his victory. And the other boy with blonde hairkept staring at the board as if he could change it through sheer willpower.

I moved around the room and walked to a door in the far-left corner and opened it to enter another memory. Even though I knew messing with memories had no impact on what actually happened, my rules still applied.

I walked into another memory of him as a teenager with a girl with beautiful blonde hair that was done up in an assortment of braids sitting atop her head. They were in the shadows of a building, and she was leaning against a wall while he caged her in with his body, his head bent forward to whisper sweet nothings into her ear.

Ah, finally… Something fun.

I whispered into the memory, focusing my energy on the girl, and said to her, “Go over to the counter and grab that knife.” She smiled up at the hunter, playfully pushed his body back, and walked seductively over to the counter on her right. He was looking at her like he was ready to devour her.

He stalked toward her until he saw her picking up the knife. I walked over to where she was, standing directly behind her, and whispered into her ear, “Stab yourself in the heart.”

She tilted her head at him, still smiling seductively, and drove the knife into her chest between her breasts, blood spurting everywhere. The hunter screamed and moved to stop her, but it was too late.

I stayed where I was, and saw the look of horror as she gazed down at what she did and started crying hysterically, crumbling to the floor as he ran forward and caught her.

I focused on her once more and said, her mouth forming the words at the same time I was talking, “Why would you kill me? Why would you do this to me? It is your fault.” She choked on those last words and relaxed into his arms, eyes glazing over. Dead.

He was breathing rapidly, tears in his eyes, chest heaving, hugging the lifeless woman to his chest. Looking around, trying to find the answers in the room. I knew that he was crying in the chair because the emotions that he was feeling in his memories were the same ones that he would feel in reality.

I would break his spirit for making me feel his heartbreak. Would make him beg me to put him out of his misery by the time I was done with him. He would rue the day that he stepped foot onto my land.

I made my way out of the room and into another that was so bright that I had to shield my eyes. I stood in a beautiful meadow that was outlined by a thicket of trees. Animals were frolicking about, birds chirping, and bees buzzing around feeding on the flowers. The first thing I noticed was that I could feel the heat from the sun’s rays against my skin. I had never been more thankful to feel one’s emotions while in this state.

I lifted my head up to the sky, drinking it in. I hadn’t seen the sun like this in so long that I almost forgot what it felt like. It was so serene that I was almost lost in its beauty when I heard a piercing scream coming from my right. I turned my head and saw a woman and a young boy with black curly hair. My prisoner. He looked to be around five years old here.

I walked over to the two lying on a blanket and found the woman tickling the brat as he tried his best to get away from her, but you could tell that he was enjoying every moment.

I narrowed my eyes at the scene; this wouldn’t do. As much as I was enjoying myself, I had to remember my purpose. While I couldn’t harm the boy, the woman was fair game.

A flash of Mariam’s face flitted across my mind, reigniting the anger over everything that had happened, and the newfound threat this man posed. I refused to allow him to bring anyone else here.

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