Page 7 of Going to Hell
Hurrying to her side, I eased the bent, thin toothbrush looking thing with four metal bristles from her hold.
The fleshy skeleton, once again in my line of sight, lifted its head. The dark hair growing from its crown fell back, revealing empty eye sockets that glowed red.
My heart, which had started beating faster the moment he moved, tripled its efforts. Air soundlessly wheezed in and out of me. I knew I needed to look away, to follow the rules, but the terror of what I was witnessing held me transfixed.
Its jaw moved. Teeth flashed behind partially formed lips. The arms reached for me, as if beckoning me to come closer.
Finally, self-preservation kicked in, and I managed to retreat a step.
A pained sound tore from the creature. It flung its head back and fought against the chains in earnest. As I watched, its developing biceps flexed and one of the chain loops opened slightly.
I spun around and raced for the door. The lock and key weren’t anything like I’d seen before, and it took a moment of fumbling to understand I had to insert it and push down on it like a lever. When I did, the latch released.
Behind me, the rattling stopped.
“Let me help you,” he rasped, the words garbled by missing tissue. “You cannot torment dressed like that.”
I pulled the key free and fled out the door.
Something soft brushed my bare legs, stopping me in my tracks, and I looked down. There was barely enough light coming from the room to see that I now wore the same Grecian style dress the woman on the bed had. One shoulder was bare. A belt hugged my waist, and a band of material bound my breasts. And, from the feel of things, I wasn’t wearing any damn underwear.
That sent a new bolt of urgency through me. I didnotwant to find out why I was missing that piece of clothing.
Taking off again, I ran down the hallway. The sound of my bare feet slapping against the stone filled my ears. Nothing else. No rattle of chain or rasping voice. The silence was more terrifying than the noise.
The light faded, and I slowed enough to place my hand on the wall and keep it there for guidance.
What was that thing? It had obviously changed my clothes magically. Several creatures could do that. Druids. Various types of frost giants. I’d never heard of any kind of magic-wielding creature reanimating itself, though. What was I dealing with? Was this a troll house or wasn’t it? I’d heard of trolls killing humans, but not other creatures. At least, not like what I’d just witnessed. If this place wasn’t for trolls, then what had chained him to that wall?
More importantly, where was I, and how did I get out? Because I wanted out. Now.
I realized darkness had never fully bloomed around me. The vague shape of the walls stood out in the gloom, and the path ahead slowly grew brighter.
My gaze darted to the doors to the left and right, searching for an escape. But the last thing I wanted to do was step into a room with another chained creature. I wished I would have stayed in the place I’d started. Safely by myself.
The rasp and thump of heavy footfalls accompanied the increasing light, and my pulse picked up speed even more. If I couldn’t find a place to hide and calm down for five minutes, every creature here would smell my fear and come running.
Just as I was about to turn around, I heard a rattle of metal behind me.
“There she is.”
The rough words sent a spear of panic through me. With the reanimated man on one side and the light growing on the other, there was nowhere to go.
Think, Ashlyn. Most creatures will try to steal your free will first.
Eyes wide and downcast, I turned and leaned my forehead against the wall so I wouldn’t be an easy target. Those that wanted to kill humans only did so to consume human flesh, which was against the law. And very few creatures were dumb enough to break that law and risk attracting the wrath of a fury.
Stay facing the wall,I coached myself. They’ll lose interest and go away. You’ll be fine.
The reanimated man came close enough that I could see his feet on the floor behind me. Fully formed and covered with smooth golden skin, they paced back and forth.
“Look at her cower,” he said sadly before his tone turned tormented. “Game, game, game. I hate games. No, I love them. Pain is better than nothing. But nothing is all I receive. Look at her skin.” He paused his pacing to make an angry, wounded sound. “I want that skin. I’ve suffered to touch it. It’s mine.”
He wanted my skin? Terror like nothing I’d known before gripped me. There was no law against maiming or killing humans for fun, so long as the death didn’t expose the existence of mythical creatures living within human society. I imagined how he meant to take my skin and fought not to shudder in reaction.
Instead of reaching for me, though, he resumed his pacing.
“No, don’t touch. She’s not real. This isn’t real. Game, game, game.” He made another pained sound and continued to move behind me.
