Drawing Blood

Adam.

Let me tell you something about him.

It had been someone else who told me of how he had escaped death. They said they knew as much, because they had seen it with their own two eyes. According to them, it had been I who had kept him from going insane. That, I had given him the strength to overcome his ordeal. At the time, I would not know how to respond to such a revelation. It would only be now I can look back and see it had been a warning.

That story of Adam’s would not start at the beginning, as most stories do. But rather, it would start somewhere in the middle, somewhere close to him gaining that wild reputation of his. You will forgive me if I get some of the details wrong, but I had been in shock at the time, and I could not think straight. Of course, I had been more than a little in love with him. And I do not want to persuade you any different. But when he had confessed himself to the truth, I ought to have listened to the advice which followed and done something with it. If I were to examine that part of my life carefully, if I were to play those things out in front of me, as though I were watching events on a screen, it would take very little effort on my behalf to see where things had gone so drastically wrong. It would take little of my imagination to understand why he had wanted to run in the first place. And how, by not wanting to do so myself, I would eventually become part of the problem and seal my own fate.

It would be a familiar voice I would hear, informing me of how Adam had woken one night, and had lifted his head to form his eyes into the thin slits. Every time he tried to open them properly a pain would slice across his forehead, his sockets stinging so much it was as though someone had used their thumbs to gouge at them. It was a thick, swirling mist which had fogged his brain, it was said. And one, he could not bear to endure. Yet, it was the world which would cause him to feel so claustrophobic. It would spin so sickeningly out of control, it made him want to wretch.

He needed to work out where he was if he wanted to survive. He could not say how long he had been sitting there. But his mouth had been taped up to stop him from screaming. He had tried to use what little strength he had in his battered body, yet any attempts at gaining his freedom would be useless. It would become clear to him that his hands had been forced behind his back, held together with something like cutting wire. He was helpless. Hopeless. Completely at the mercy of his captures.

He took a steady breath and had braced himself, crying out in agony when he finally popped open those swollen eyes of his. He was in a room, he noticed. A circular room. A room made entirely out of bricks and mortar. The floor was dirty, the walls crumbling away like dust. The place was ugly to him, strewn with bits of rubble and wood. A set of thick, heavy chains had been attached to the wall opposite where he was sat. And a cracked, bloodstained altar lay beneath them, its greying surface covered in deep gouges, and teeth marks. Swallowing down his nausea, he turned his attention to the row of sturdy wooden doors embedded along the walls, guessing instantly they were the entrances into the place. Lifting his gaze upwards, to the only light source in the room, he would see the sky outside. With mounting horror, he would realise he was at the bottom of a disused well, and that it was dusk.

The smell of death was terrible. The stench of it filled his nostrils, saturating his pores in a coat of sweat. He scanned the room fearfully, breathing in and out through his nose. He knew why he had been brought there. He knew he would not be leaving there alive. It was a man he had helped. A helpless man. A cure, like me. And the pair of them had fled the country, only to get caught. Now, now he was there to face the consequences.

A single, blood curdling scream echoed somewhere in the distance, and terror replaced his fear. It began to creep into his belly, slicing him like a hot knife. And he could hear the faint rumble of a familiar voice behind one of those closed doors, and had fought to keep his heartbeat steady, the panic in him rising like a tidal wave. He attempted to move again; except the chair he was sitting on had been chained to the ground. Desperation took over him. A door to his right opened. A thin strip of yellow light fell neatly across the chipped floor. It would stop him dead in his tracks.

The ghostly glimmer of human bones which littered the altar filled his vision. He held his breath, his thundering heart betraying him. He remembered his training and focused on a spot on the wall. He was going to die soon.

The man who joined him was a tall man. A man with dark, floppy hair. He made his way over to Adam. And he wore black jeans and a sleeveless shirt. Adam did not know that man, and he was careful not to acknowledge him. But he continued to stare at a spot on the wall and simply let all the terror drain from his mind. He thought of me, of how I had made him feel. He often turned to me in the darkest of times, is what I heard. And if he were to close his eyes he could recount every tiny detail in my face, every little freckle gracing my nose, every inch of my skin. He may not have seen me for the last eight years, but he knew I was safe, knew I was happy. He did not think he would see me again, but he was okay with that. He had done the right thing in letting me go. He had done the right thing even though it had killed him.

Sensing that he was not paying any attention to the stranger, and not liking that he was being ignored, the floppy haired man suddenly growled and came forwards to thrust his face close to him. He had no choice but to notice him, then.

“Hello, Adam,” the man had snarled at him, “I’m Alex, and I’ll be your friendly waiter this evening. On the menu tonight is flesh, flesh and more flesh.”

Adam caught the flicker of red flame burning brightly in Alex’s otherwise brown eyes, and turned his head away, repulsed. He said he had thought of me again, of the first time we had met.

“Oh, I forgot,” Alex had gone on, tormenting him; “you don’t like flesh, do you Adam? You prefer to deny your appetite.”

There was a scuffle outside the door, and Alex lifted his head then, his eyes igniting with anticipation. “You’re in trouble now...” he sneered. And he pulled away from Adam, crossing the room quickly to go and stand over by the chains.

Adam watched as he folded his arms across his chest and grinned at him.

A door on his right door opened, and Adam turned his head towards it, for another man would enter the room. He knew this man. He knew it was Trent Morgan, a long-time friend and companion of Devlin. He too was tall, much taller than Adam and Alex, and he had a physique that would put a bodybuilder to shame. He was wearing cream-coloured trousers and a white shirt, his long, dirty blond hair tied back into a ponytail revealing a large, thuggish forehead. His eyes were the same soulless, yellow colour as a wolf’s. He was an animal, in Adams eyes. And like an animal, he picked at his teeth with a metal paper clip.

Trent came to a stop in front of Alex and spoke to him quietly, his voice barely audible in the eerie silence. Still grinning, Alex would leave the room, winking at Adam on his way out. There would be another scuffle. And almost immediately he returned. Only, this time, he was carrying an unconscious man over his shoulder. Adam recognised this man as well, and suddenly realising what Trent had planned for him, he began to rock backwards and forwards in his chair again, violently this time, his t-shirt sticking to him as rivulets of sweat poured down his body.

Hearing him, Trent span on his heels. His eyes narrowed as he observed Adam carefully. A glimmer of wickedness flickered across that mouth of his. “Ah...would you look at that...” he murmured. “Adam’s all excited...” He threw Alex a swift look and smiled. “And you said he was dull, dear cousin.”

Alex laughed as he began chaining the unconscious man to the wall. “He won’t be dull after this.”

Shaking his head frantically, Adam forced his eyes shut again, the sight before him nothing short of a nightmare. They couldn’t make him kill this man – they couldn’t!

He could feel the muscles in his shoulders rip with the effort of trying to break free as he kept on struggling. Twisting and turning. His stomach rolling unpleasantly. The bile in his stomach forced its way into his mouth.

“Don’t waste all your energy now, Adam,” Trent laughed as he saw. “There will be plenty of opportunity to stretch your legs later…”

Another door would open, and Devlin Cage would enter the room. Adam stopped. Adrenaline flowed through his broken body. He knew this person only too well. A sinewy looking man whose torso was currently bare and covered in black tattoos, and which looked as though they had been done with a steady hand, Devlin was much smaller than the other two, but twice as dangerous. He walked past Adam and he did not even look at him.

“Ah, Devlin...” Trent threw his arms wide open, welcoming Devlin like a brother. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you again, Trent.” Pulling back, Devlin settled his opaque gaze on Alex. He threw him a curt nod. “Alex.”

Alex’s response was lacking emotion, but he answered him nevertheless, “Devlin.”

Devlin turned his attention back to Trent. He drew a satisfied breath, his grin stretching from ear to ear. “You have returned safely, I see”.

“I have.” Trent lowered his voice then, almost whispering his next sentence. “Can’t say the same for Matt and the others, though. I’m afraid they won’t be returning.”

Devlin’s grin slipped. This news seemed to upset him. “What happened?”

“They met Stefan’s bunch. A lot of them lost their heads.”

“Bastards!” Devlin laid a tattooed hand upon Trent’s shoulder. He was ridged. “Tell me you got some of them, my friend. Tell me you killed a few of his men.”

Trent nodded. “We did.” He turned his yellow gaze upon Adam, bringing him to Devlin’s attention. “And I bought you a little gift.”

Devlin’s cold eyes settled on Adam’s terrified frame. His face suddenly grew alive with interest. “Adam Goldman...” he purred. And his lips curled back to reveal a set of jagged teeth. “What a nice surprise.” He patted Trent on the arm, happy. “Well done. I shall reward you for this.” Moving swiftly, he was soon in front of Adam. “We meet again, I see,” he said to him.

Determined to show no fear, Adam stopped trying to escape. He held Devlin’s gaze. He wanted nothing better than to scream at Devlin. He wanted nothing better than to lunge at him, to kill him. But that would have to wait.

Devlin smirked. He knew what was going through Adam’s mind. “Is it my birthday, Trent?”

“I thought you might like it.” Trent motioned towards the unconscious man chained to the wall as he started to pick away at his teeth, again. “I bought you another gift, too.”

Devlin licked his lips, and he began to circle Adam excitedly, as though he was an eagle about to swoop down on his prey. “Where did you find them both?”

“Adam was hiding in Mexico,” Trent confirmed. “He wasn’t too hard to drag back. This other guy…. he wasn’t too far behind.”

Adam swallowed. His eyes slid to the thin piece of metal hanging from Trent’s thick fingers.

The smile did not leave Devlin’s mouth. “Mexico...” he said. “That’s such a beautiful place. When the sun goes down, the sky looks like it’s on fire...”

“Fine women, too,” Trent agreed.

Devlin suddenly swooped down on Adam, changing gear. He breathed him in, inhaled his fear, toyed with him. “I told you we’d find you Adam,” he said. “You should have listened.” Then, without any warning, and in one fluid movement, he yanked the tape mercilessly from Adam’s mouth. “...BECAUSE I ALWAYS FIND WHAT I SEEK!!”

“If you’re going to kill me then do it!” Adam screamed back at him, the cool air filling his lungs at long last. His mouth stung, his lips were bleeding, but he did not care. He knew it was reckless of him. He was ready to fight. Devlin was angry, he could see that. But he wanted his blood, that was all. If he had to die, at least he would die fighting. At least he would die knowing he hadn’t succumbed to the temptation to kill a human being.

“Oh, but I’m not going to kill you Adam,” Devlin replied to him through gritted teeth, “I need you, remember?” He inclined his head towards the man chained to the wall. “You see this other man, don’t you?” he went on. “He’s Jonathon’s son, isn’t he?”

Adam shook his head. “I won’t kill him for you!” he protested, “I won’t kill anyone for you!”

A quiet hush fell over the room. Adam knew his words had sunk into the minds of his captors. No-one had dared disobeyed Devlin before. No one had done that and lived.

“Are you refusing to kill this scum?” Devlin taunted him.

“I am,” said Adam. “I’m not going to do it...”

Devlin ran over towards the man as he moaned, and grabbed his swollen jaw, careful not to get any blood on his fingers. He squeezed down hard. “Why not, Adam? You wanted a cure! And look...I found one for you...!”

“I won’t kill him for you!” Adam yelled. He tried again to pull his hands free from their confines. He watched as the man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. He found himself vomiting down his t-shirt and jeans, the stench of it making him want to retch again. “No, I won’t!”

“YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GET A CHOICE!” Letting go, Devlin strode abruptly back to Adam. He wiped his hands on his jeans, before reaching out and swiping him hard across the side of the face. “YOU WILL FINISH THE JOB, I GAVE YOU!”

White hot pain shot across Adam’s jaw, his cheek exploding under the impact of Devin’s blow. He spat blood from his mouth, the ringing in his ears, deafening. “I won’t do it!” he gasped. His chest burned as he struggled to breathe through the pain. “You can’t make me!”

Growing calm all of a sudden, and seemingly composing himself, Devlin crouched down in front of Adam, fixing him with a cold, glassy stare. “When I order someone to do something for me, I expect it to be done,” he whispered. When Adam didn’t respond, he lifted his gaze and peered up at the hole in the ceiling. For what seemed like an eternity, he observed the darkening sky above. “We will soon leave you Adam,” he warned. “The moon will then show itself and you will start to change.” His face looked macabre in the shadows. “You will have no choice but to finish the job I gave you.”

Alex sniggered. The man began screaming again. As Adam peered over Devlin’s tattooed shoulder and watched the man, ice filled his weary limbs. Devlin was right. There would be no escape. He closed his eyes in defeat. He knew it was no good. He knew that Jonathon’s son would not stand a chance. A werewolf locked in a room with a human...

The human was going to die.

Sensing Adams defeat, Devlin grinned. He drew close to him, so that their noses almost touched. The smell of him made Adam feel sick again.

“I won’t be a total monster, Adam,” he breathed. “After you finish the job, I will give you a minute’s head start. It can’t be any worse than having to face Jonathon’s men, after all.”

Trent’s laugher echoed throughout the walls. It forced Adam to open his eyes. They were blazing green with anger. He had nothing to lose. “I won’t be so nice when I kill you,” he retaliated bitterly.

“I’m sure they will all look forward to that.”

Devlin beckoned Trent towards him as he straightened himself. They began to whisperer amongst themselves.

A thought entered Adam’s mind. Knowing it was now or never he kicked out at one of Trent’s shins, popping the knee from its socket. Screaming in agony, Trent fell to the floor, dropping the paperclip from his fingers. Clutching his leg, his face was apoplectic with fury.

“You Bastard!”

Adam grinned.

Devlin did not seem too bothered by his friend’s misfortune. As Alex sprang forwards, growling, ready to attack, he stopped him. “Leave him, Alex,” he instructed, “Your cousin is quite capable of taking care of Mr Goldman.”

Snarling, and getting gingerly to his feet, Trent’s yellow eyes flashed violently towards Adam in the darkness. With his mouth in a thin line, he popped his knee back into place. Adam didn’t care. He had accomplished what he wanted. Making sure he kept his left foot steady over the paperclip he watched them all leave the room.