Page 18 of The Witch's Heart
“The one and only,” he says with his standard snark. Only this time, it feels forced, and a thread of pain laces his voice.
“What happened to you?” I ask, relief spearing through me harder than I expected. “You were both gone.”Or you were never here, and I’m still just imagining you.
But there were others.
Are they here? Listening?
Were they even real?
“We hadtherapy,” he says, and I can tell by his tone what he thinks of that.
“Is Dean back too?” I ask.
Despite the chill it gives me, I stand and move to the edge of my cage, pressing my face against the bars. If I can see them, maybe that means they’re really here.
“Yes. He’s here.” There’s a shift in the shadows and Declan moves into the thin shaft of light. Just over his shoulder, I catch sight of Dean facedown on the cot in the corner, but then my gaze lands on Declan and I startle at his appearance. He looks sallow with dark circles under his eyes. And his hands…
"Why… why are your hands wolf paws?" I ask.
"It's part of their treatment," he says bitterly. "You'll find out soon enough."
"What are they treating you for?" I ask. "Why are you here?"
I almost don't want to know the answer, but I have to if I'm ever going to figure out how to break out of this hell.
"What do you mean?" he asks, his voice sounding off—even more off than it did just a moment ago.
"I mean what reason did they give for keeping you here?"
His claws click at the bars. Tick. Tick. Tick. The sound is like a metronome lulling me into some kind of trance.
"Oh, little witch-girl, you'll learn fast not to ask so many questions."
"Declan?" My voice hitches as he falls to the ground. "Declan!"
His scream echoes in the dungeon as his body morphs, fur growing over skin, muscles and bone breaking and twisting into something beast-like. It’s different from the first time he changed in front of me. More disturbing, more unnatural. Almost as if his body stops cooperating midway. And I don’t need to ask him to know he’s in pain.
"Help! Dr. Livingstone! Someone! Declan needs help!"
But of course, no one comes. I reach through the bars, trying to extend my hand to his, but we are too far away for me to reach him. I know this, but I still try. "Declan, I'm here. You're going to be okay."
My words lack any authority or truth, but I lace them with as much comfort as I can as he writhes on the floor, moaning and screaming as his body shifts from wolf to man—back and forth, over and over as his bones crack with the effort.
"Dean! Dean!" Through the shadows I see the prone form of his twin on the narrow cot, but he doesn't move.
"What the hell is going on here?" I ask. "Merde."
I don't know what to do. How to help. Clenching the bars of my own cage, I close my eyes and concentrate.
But nothing happens.
I grit my teeth, desperate to help.
Declan gives a yelp of pain that’s more animal than human.
Shutting out everything, I bow my head and pray.
I'm not religious, but I do believe in something. Not some dude-god in the sky, but something. And for the first time in my life, I plead with it for help.
