Chapter 442: Powerless
Angry? What was angry? Raging? Had nothing on me. More like a pyroclastic meltdown with a side order of hell no.
I was not pacing the thick, cream carpet of a second floor bedroom with my hands so tightly fisted I couldn't feel them anymore. Nor was my wereguard prone on the matching comforter with some kind of liquid metal shoved in her mouth and wrapped around her head, the same oozing stuff pinning her arms and legs so tightly all she could do was tremble and stare at me with desperate eyes.
No, we were not trapped, prisoners, turned in by the very two kids I'd done everything I possibly could in my power to keep safe.
Hell. No.
Maybe if I'd had access to my magic, things would have turned out differently, though part of me doubted it. Not after Trill's blatant betrayal pinpointed our location. Charlotte tried to save me, diving in my way, yelling for me to run even as Demetrius's keening echoed in my head as he rushed the two sorcerers coming my way.
I couldn't leave them, but how could I stay? Belaisle reappeared, smiled. Hit me with something I couldn't see but, could I feel it, oh boy, yes. Like a freight train taking out a brick wall while the whole world exploded.
Nighty-night, Syd.
At least when I woke, I was intact. No broken anything. Just a headache and a whole lot of pent up anger I then took out on various furnishings now lying scattered in pieces on the soft, deep carpet.
Even without power, I could still manage to make a mess.
Charlotte's bindings worried me, especially at first. She struggled so hard I thought she might hurt herself. But the moment I touched her shoulder, my tantrum over, she calmed, though the despair in her eyes never left her, not for the entire hour I paced back and forth, checking on her over and over again, trying to pry the nasty stuff from her lips only to have it try to wind its way around my fingers.
I still had no clue what happened to Demetrius. I could only image he was either gone, escaped, or also in Belaisle's custody. And while I really didn't like the crazy demon-man, I'd lost my hate for him.
Besides, I still owed him and I meant to pay that debt.
No windows. Just one door, locked. No amount of pounding on it seemed to elicit a response, not even when I beat on the polished surface with the splintered leg of a rather expensive looking chair. Hit something hard enough against a wall and it will break apart eventually.
So I had a weapon, just in case. The heft of the length of solid wood felt good in my hands. But who was I kidding? Another blow like the one that took me down and I'd be in pain-riddled snoozeland all over again.
The same metal holding Charlotte sealed the edges of the door. So I couldn't even peek out from underneath. Yes, I tried. And the lock was modern, no keyhole to use for spying. Frustration central. At least the vampire mansion had the good grace to offer old-fashioned options.
I decided right then and there I hated modern homes and if I had the chance, I'd take this one apart personally.
Charlotte grunted, body twisting, giving me just enough notice to turn with my chunk of wood at the ready as the door seal sighed open. I leaped for the exit, chair leg at the attack, only to stagger back as Owen fell through, practically into my arms, the pair of us landing hard on the floor. I looked up just in time to see Trill stagger her way inside, flinging my weapon toward the door with all my strength. Too late, the thing thudded shut, my badly-aimed throw bouncing the heavy leg sideways and almost hitting Trill.
"Watch it," she snapped.
Oh no she didn't.
I pushed Owen aside, ignoring his cry of pain as I leaped to my feet and lunged at her. Wanted to grab her, shake her to pieces, scream my head off. Didn't. Went for cold instead, knowing if I opened that can of very antagonistic worms I'd regret it when she was dead.
Well. Maybe.
"What. The. Hell."
Trill's anger was gone as she stepped back away from me, rubbing her arm. Someone must have been gripping it tightly because she winced when she touched it. Either that or her expression was for me.
"You're not supposed to be here." Bitter, angry, yes. But sad, too. Enough I didn't freak out.
Proud of me?
"There had better be a damned good reason why you tossed your only chance for protection to the wolves." I spun on Charlotte who glared. "No offense intended."
Owen stood before sinking to the edge of the bed, hugging himself, not looking at his sister. "I can't believe you did this, Trill. Syd is our friend."
So she acted alone. At least I'd only have one murder on my conscience.
Steady, girl. Steady.
Trill turned from us, facing the wall, shoulders shaking. "You don't understand," she wailed. "I didn't have a choice."
Her brother was on his feet, flying across the room, slamming both fists into her back before I knew his guilt turned to anger. "You did!" He shoved her, hard, Trill impacting the wall with one shoulder, sagging against it, slowly sinking to the floor with her face still turned away, the rocking of her shoulders, the way she clutched her hands to her face telling me, while they were silent, her tears came in giant sobs. "You told me we were going to run, but you led us right to him. Right to him!" Owen stood over her, face mottled red as he yelled at her. "You betrayed all of us, Trill. You betrayed me. And now it's all over." He sagged himself, deflating, his internal rage balloon emptying as he spun and put his back to her, so much hurt in him I stepped forward and hugged him to me, though he didn't hug me back. "I can't believe you gave up."
Trill pushed herself to her feet, wiping at her face, glasses dangling from one hand. "I told you," she whispered. "I didn't have a choice. And I meant it."
"Then give me a good reason." Owen pulled away from me, a shot of anger left. "Just one."
She nodded, head bobbing, hope gone. "Owen." She met his eyes at last, hers nearly black with grief. "They have Nona."
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