Massive tendrils of unruly red mane fall around my face and block my sight of vision. Huffing, I begin to hurl myself from the concrete floor, only to stop when I realize that I am wiggling on the ground like an earthworm who has been sprinkled salt and is on the verge of death.
For God's sake, couldn't he have uncuffed me first?
Slowly, the realization of my situation and the oddity of everything occuring all at once hits me. My annoyance with the horse faced being now shoved in the back of my mind and leaving only a burning flame of curiosity and slight confusion as memories of his features consume my head. For a second I don't hear a sound, not even a pin drop.
But then the sound of hushed voices all murmuring has my body freezing over with fear for the first time in a long while.
"She looks sick."
A loud bang which causes my body to jolt in shock. "How disgusting."
"Humans are the lowest on the food chain," I hear one sneer, "so fucking weak."
Blinding rage consumes me, disregarding the whole part where they addressed me as a human and instead focusing on the rains of insults that bruise my ego more than it should. Maybe it has to do with the harshness in the voices or the cold aura I feel enveloping me in its choking grip the more I inhale. But the discomforting feeling digs deep into my bones and forces my big mouth to fall open with curses.
Suddenly the voices seize and I am consumed with a familiar feeling of dread as invisible hands seem to claw at my neck.
"Excuse me?" A man, I conclude from the deepness of the voice, and he doesn't sound happy.
Pushing past the clog in my throat, I swallow thickly and lick my parched lips. "You're excused." My voice is cocky, intended to anger the man which I can tell I did for a moment as I feel the air shift.
I hear the sound of heavy footfalls heading in my direction and I curse at myself. I'm already in deep trouble and I'm still digging a deeper hole for myself, I should really learn when to shut up.
”עצור אח. איננו יכולים לשרוף אותה כעת, המפתח בידיה ולכן היא חשובה לנו. לא היום ... אבל אולי אחר כך.“
[Translation: "Stop brother, we cannot incinerate her now. The key lies in her hands and therefore she is important to us. Not today... but maybe later."]
I strain my ears to listen in on the conversation, scowling at the floors when I don't hear a single word in English. What? Was I kidnapped and then taken to another country?
I hear the soft ruffling of movements and feet scrubbing against the floors before a grave voice speaks up and jolts me from my tangled web of thoughts.
"Help her to her feet, this is not how we treat out guests." He spits the words like it is foul, who ever this is, I don't like him one bit.
With a groan, I feel strong hands grab hold of my shoulder blades, not in the least smoothly, and haul me to my trembling feet. I stagger, almost doubling over but the hands hold me firm and steady in place.
"Good. Shall we begin?"
Curiosity burns within me like a lit candle flame, every bone in my body itching to put a face to the dreaded vocal cords that haunt my eardrums. However, when my eyes flicker up to the platform a couple of feet away from me, my mouth dries up and suddenly I'm speechless.
Draped in a dark as night cloaks from head to toe, hoods thrown over their faces, concealing even the slightest sight of skin. Seated on black thrones with spikes protruding from the very top of the back rest. The shadows seem to stick to them, dancing around their frames like smoke around a candle flame.
I can't help the next words I utter, “is this some sick Halloween joke?" My lips stretch into a smile as I shake me head at them. “You almost had me there for a moment," I begin to laugh uncontrollably, doubling over as boisterous spurts escape my lips.
“You guys really went all out this year, the accent," I purse my lips, unable to stop myself from giggling once more, who knows? Maybe all that was actually gibberish. “damn I gotta admit, those costumes are mad crazy and this place," I glance around, taking in the high ceilings and pillars along with the gothic appearance the place holds. “This place is sick, are those thrones fake as well? The fabric looks 100 per—"
My words are cut off by a growl, “I always knew humans were stupid, I just didn't think they would be this dumb." I stare agape at the fourth who just spoke, frowning since I can't see his face and yet mildly annoyed by his words.
Before I can think of a sarcastic comment, I feel the hands on my shoulders curl and tighten, I wince in pain.
One of the rises to his feet, folding his hands in front of him as though in prayer.
“Do you know what you have done?"
What does he mean? What have I done?
A soft noise escapes the back of the throat as he steps down from the platform and inches closer to my fear shaken frame. “Do you know where you are?"
Slowly, I shake my head, straining my neck to gaze up at him straight in what I assume are his eyes because I can't see any inch of his face, it's as if the darkness is covering him from sight despite his closeness to me. However, I feel the coldness seeping off him.
Tsking softly, he takes several steps back and stalks up the platform, tracing a hand across the fine golden surface of the throne. I faintly hear him mutter under his breath, “so naive."
“You my dear, are in hell."