The Soothing Scent Of Earth (Elemental Awakening, Book 2) (4 page)

I saw the
Rigas
that first day in my barren room. He asked the question I have been asked every day since.

"What are you?"

Even then, having had my world destroyed, knowing that the
Gi
were not friendly, but enemies instead, I still didn't get it.

Three days of nothing. No food. No water. No Earth.

And then Davos, my
Gi
interrogator walked in. I got it then.

I was not a
Gi
Princess. I was never one of them.

The interrogations were interspersed with visits from the doctor, when Davos had really gotten out of hand. But no one else visited my prison.

And now this. The next stage of my captivity. The progression of my demise.

My shirt was brutally ripped off my shoulders, exposing my naked back. Davos' hand pressed firmly, purposely, against my spine, hot against shivering skin, making sure to grind my naked breasts against the rough concrete.

He gripped my upper arms, brought his face up to my ear and whispered, "Feel good?"

"Fuck off!" I snarled, attempting to throw my head back against his nose. He moved too swiftly for me to connect, but his laughter let me know he enjoyed my failure.

"For that, you'll get an extra dozen," he murmured, walking a short distance away and spreading his legs to steady his stance.

I closed my eyes, sucked in one last breath of air, and then held it. Waiting.

"Any last requests?" he taunted, dragging the moment out as long as he could. "No? Pity," he murmured. "Well, I have one anyway. Scream for me,
Princess
. Scream loud and long. I want to hear how much I hurt you. I want the sound of your agony ringing in my ears for days to come."

I bit my lip and swore to myself I wouldn't make a sound.

Miraculously I managed to keep my promise on the first stroke of the cane. The sting brought tears to my eyes, which spilled unrestrained onto my cheeks. My body jerked against the binds, the chains rattling only ever so slightly. My back bowed, scraping rough concrete over sensitive flesh.

I blinked back tears to see Davos had moved to stand before my face.

"So brave," he whispered. "It's a fucking turn on."

Then he was gone and the cane smacked into my flesh unmercifully, strike after strike after strike.

The sixth or seventh switch made me cry out a noise so pained it sounded animalistic.

"That's it," he encouraged, adding another slash across my skin. "Let me hear you,
Princess
. Fuck! Let the whole complex hear you scream."

The next strike was different. I knew intrinsically that he'd infused it with
Gi
. The sting was piercing, as though the cane had entered to bone, slashing through flesh and muscle, severing nerves and blood vessels, and embedding itself on my soul.

The scream that time was a wail of undignified defeat. I think I pleaded for him to stop. I think I told him I was an Alchemist spy. I may have promised to do
anything
for him. I don't know. It's a moment I would rather not remember. But I knew I'd never forget. Because whatever essence he channelled, while making that last swipe of the whip across my back, would ensure the permanent reminder was there. A scar that told the world I'd been whipped, beaten. Brought down to this.

A snivelling, grovelling mess of whimpering flesh hanging from chains on the wall in a concrete cell.

There was no coming back from this. He'd won. Davos, the evil, bastard interrogator, had won. I couldn't give him the answer he sought, but I now knew my place.

"You're mine," he murmured in my ear, his chest pressing hard against the slashes across my back, making me whimper.

I felt his hand stroke down my side, then slip between the wall and my stomach to haul me back from the concrete. He pressed himself into my behind, leaving no doubt in my mind where this was going. Then ran his calloused palm up my stomach, over scratches and aching bruises that were in various stages of healing. Until he could cup a naked breast and squeeze hard.

Another whimper followed, this time by a mewl of distress mixed with a feeble cry of defeat.

"Whose are you?" he asked, his free hand coming down to the waistband of my cut-off trousers and panties.

He started tugging them lower.

I closed my eyes and closed my heart. Cutting myself off the only way I knew how. Letting my body become numb.

"Whose are you?" he repeated, his hand moving from the band of my trousers to cup my butt cheek instead.

I sucked in air, felt a solitary tear trickle down my cheek and whispered, "Theo's."

Davos stilled, clearly unsure of what he'd heard. Maybe considering that I was an absolute glutton for punishment to defy him.

Then he withdrew his hand from my pants and punched me in the kidneys.
Hard.

Pain lanced up my back and brought sick to my mouth. I spat the vomit out immediately,
panting for breath and unable to see through the wash of tears in my eyes. I tasted blood.

"I'm going to make this hurt now," Davos promised, and all I could muster was a half-hearted laugh.

Hurt? More than my body ached now? More than my heart ached? Impossible.

He growled, pulled back to undress I think, and then all I heard was a grunt, an explosion of surprised air, and the heavy weight of his body as it collided with the back of mine.

I screamed. A door slammed shut. And Davos collapsed down the length of me to land on the floor. From my head turned position I saw the beginnings of a spreading pool of blood.

"Shhh," a voice said behind me, as hands grasped the clasps at my wrists and started to undo them. "You'll bring in the Guard."

My ankles were freed next and then I was falling into the open arms of the doctor, his eyes blazing green as he looked at my tear stained face, and then glanced down at a clearly out of it Davos.

"I have to decapitate him, Casey," the doctor said, as though apologising for what he was about to do.

I nodded, stunned at the turn of events. Stunned at the doctor calling me by my name. Stunned I wasn't being violated against the wall by an evil piece of shit right now.

He helped me to the bed, wrapping a sheet around my torso and then pulled a sharp serrated knife from his belt.

I made myself watch. Davos deserved to die a thousand deaths. I would be sure to witness this one.

It was over before I'd settled my heart or regained my breath, and then it was just me and the
Gi
doctor, staring at each other in my dark, dank cell.

For several moments neither of us spoke. My body was battered and bruised, scraped and pummelled. I ached inside and out. My mouth tasted bitter, the after effects of too many mouthfuls of vomit. My head spun with multiple images of Davos. His words taunting me even after he was gone from this world.

My eyes swept across the silent room to land on his crumpled form. His head had rolled several feet away and lay on its side beneath the sink in the corner. A pattern of blood was left in a trail from where it landed back to his body. The metallic taint of blood scented the air.

I'd always associate evil with that smell from now on.

I flicked my gaze back to the doctor, who hadn't moved from his spot standing over Davos' headless corpse. He looked wary and a little uncertain.

I sucked in a deep breath and made myself talk.

"What happens now?"

The Guard would surely come and investigate when Davos didn't return to his quarters later tonight. Who would the
Basilissa
send to interrogate me next? What would happen to the doctor, the only
Gi
to have shown me mercy since I arrived?

The doctor let out a slow breath of air and then ran a bloodied hand through his long hair. He looked relieved that I hadn't fallen completely to pieces. Or relieved that I wasn't trying to attack him.

"We need to leave," he murmured eventually. I frowned in confusion. "Unfortunately I couldn't get in touch with my contact in Manaus, and things had progressed in here that moving the plan forward was the only option. But," he shrugged his shoulders almost apologetically, "because of the sudden turn of events we're basically on our own."

"Who are you?" I asked, tilting my head to study the
Gi
before me better.

He shook his head. "We don't have time for explanations, Casey. Davos is not known for skipping dinner. He
will
be missed."

He walked to the door and carefully opened it a fraction, listened and then peered out into a slightly brighter lit hallway. Turning back to face me, his eyes scanned the sheet and then flicked to where Davos had discarded my torn shirt. I had still been dressed in the clothes Aktor, Theo's butler, had given me in Auckland. I didn't have anything else to wear.

"Can you make that sheet work?" he asked, making a huff of air slip out between my lips.

If this was a rescue mission, and I was beginning to think that just maybe it was, the doctor hadn't come prepared. I guess that explained his
we're on our own
statement. Things hadn't gone the way the doctor had planned.

Three months I'd been here. Three months I'd been tormented and tortured. I wasn't going to waste a second on worrying over my state of dress. If this was my only chance to escape, I was freaking going to take it.

I stood up, my legs shaking only slightly as adrenaline flooded my system, and ripped the sheet in half. My aches flared to life on the simple, but strenuous, movement. The doctor realised what I was doing and came over immediately to offer his superior strength. The ripping sound echoed in the room, but before long I had a more appropriate sized piece of material to wrap around my frame like a halter-top. I tied two corners of the sheet at the centre of my spine above my hips, and the remaining two behind my neck.

Runway chic I was not.

But the doctor nodded his approval and headed back to the still opened door. I stumbled after him, a dizziness setting in that I stubbornly ignored. I'd have time later - hopefully - to wallow in self pity, now I needed to focus, or I would die.

"Where are the Guard?" I asked, as we stepped out into the desolate hallway, the temperature rising slightly from the cool, dampness that invaded my cell.

"Three floors up," the doctor replied, leading the way down the hall. "None of them want to be near Davos when he works."

"Not so stupid then," I murmured to his back.

He glanced over his shoulder and offered me an encouraging smile, his hand resting on a door at the end of the corridor. He'd never smiled in my presence before. It transformed his appearance to something quite human. Normal even.

For a moment I just stared back, and then he said, "Ready?"

I made myself nod, even though my mind was screaming,
No!

The door opened and a wash of humid heat met us, almost making me collapse back on the ground in a crumpled heap. I'd vaguely been aware that Brazil had a hot climate, but obviously my cell was below ground and shielded from the heat. I felt it now, but as we climbed the stairs, one tread after another after another, I realised it was getting worse. Hotter. Heavier. Sapping what little energy I had left and making me sweat within seconds of feeling that moist, roasting air.

By the time we'd made it up three flights of stairs I was panting for breath, dripping in perspiration and feeling nauseous. My hand reached out and pressed against the wall at my side for support, as I bent over at the waist and tried to suck in more air. My ribs and back still hurt. My throat felt raw. And the air, although a pleasant wetness to it, felt suffocating due to its soaring temperature.

"Take it easy," the doctor said beside me. "Rest for a minute then we have to move."

I nodded and just continued to suck in what I could of the humid air.

I'm guessing exactly a minute later the doctor cleared his throat, placed a hand on my shoulder and then with a hard look on his face opened the door.

Birdsong was the first thing I registered. The sharp caw of a parrot, but there was more than one. And somehow they overlapped to make a beautiful symphony out of what should have been an unmusical sound. I grinned; the feeling of my lips tipping up was foreign. How long had it been since I last smiled?

"Fifty meters to the perimeter fence," the doctor was saying. "Guards on two lookout posts one hundred meters either side of us, with clear line of sight to this door."

We hadn't stepped outside yet, and I could see that the front of this building looked like a bunker, the door slightly recessed under concrete eaves. I was guessing the entire building was underground, with only this small portion, the top tier, above soil.

The irony of being buried in the Earth for three months, and still not have been able to commune with it, was not lost on me.