Chapter 15
And those which
remain shall Hear, and Fear, and shall
Henceforth commit no more any such Evil among you.
--Deuteronomy 19:20
In spite of her claims that they were finished for now, during the remainder of the 'evening' and 'night', Yvelle came back twice more to inject Jim. Each time sent him further into a hallucination-driven world, until, after the second visit, which made the third injection since the ritual had ended, Jim simply stopped coming out.
Blair held his lover in his arms, cradling him close, crooning soothing words into an ear that didn't seem to hear him any longer. Instead, the bigger man shook and moaned, his body shuddering under a continuous onslaught of stimulation. The grad student undressed Jim with the same tenderness that his partner had shown in helping him get dressed earlier in the day, then shifted him into a fetal position on the bed and draped himself around the older man. He'd protect Jim at any cost. No one was getting by him tonight.
He barely knows who I am. How are we going to handle this tomorrow? How's he supposed to know what he's doing if he can hardly comprehend which end is up? That horrid, insistent voice in his mind chimed in with what he was really worried about, down in the deepest, darkest corner of his soul: How's he going to keep from raping me, if he doesn't know its me...if he doesn't know what he's doing? His calm, rational brain shook its head. Get a grip, Sandburg. What are you really afraid of, here? Jim? No, not Jim. The actual rape itself? No. That won't be pleasant, but I'll manage. So, what then? The answer when it came didn't surprise him one bit. Jim will never forgive himself if he ever learns that he hurt me--raped me. Never.
He shook his head, his heart aching more than it had since they'd arrived at this little slice of hell on earth. He tightened his grip on his hot, shaking partner, and closed his eyes, determined to try and get some sleep. The last thing he was aware of was a strange sort of prescience, with a dark, slinking shadow moving around their room, and the quiet rumble of a large cat.
Hot. Damp. Dark. Rumbling, trembling noises and strange, belching groans. Red-hot, molten fire and flowing death. The sharp smell of sulfur all around, bitter, tangy. A deep, grumbling roar, muted through layers of rock and earth and nature's waste. Primeval noises , restless shifting and shuddering. Other noises, different, yet similar. Growling. A dark, sleek hunter, moving sinuously through damp rock, prowling, seeking. Muted rumblings from the ebony chest, rumblings that boded ill for the enemy the hunter wanted. More dark, with long, flowing hair and midnight eyes like ice and the hunter growled a warning, issued a challenge. The challenge was accepted and the hunter was surrounded by heat. Wet heat, dry heat. Other groans, louder, insistent. Pain. The enraged screams of a hunter bent on retribution. Mate. HIS mate. Wet...salt damp and earth smells. Warm. Heat. Hot. HOT!!!
The man who once knew himself as Jim Ellison bolted upright, the warmth that had encircled him falling away from the force of his surge. He looked around wildly, seeing the images of his dreams as if they were still imprinted on his eyelids. He gave a harsh, barking laugh, then shifted as the warmth next to him stirred. He felt a throbbing in his body, an ache that shifted and moved, but stayed with him always. The warmth became a figure, and the figure opened vibrantly colored eyes to stare at him. The lips moved, and sound came out, but he couldn't understand what was being said to him. He kept hearing the word "Jim", but didn't recognize it as something he should know. He watched the other figure carefully, his instincts telling him that although he needed to be on guard here, he was safe from this one. There would be no harm from this quarter. There was familiarity here, as well. He sniffed, then scented the figure, recognizing the layers of fragrance. This was his! This figure here was his. He was safe here.
"Jim?" Blair watched his partner, the odd, faraway look in the sky-blue eyes scaring him a little bit. Well, no, scaring him a lot. "Jim, man, you're freaking me out here! Jim!!" He reached a hand out to shake Jim's shoulder gently, wondering if his lover was in a zone-out. He drew the limb back in shocked surprise when Jim growled--growled--at him.
His was trying to touch him. He growled a gentle, but unmistakable warning and watched the hand draw away from him. After a stretch of time during which the only sound was the pounding, racing heartbeat of his, the figure laid back down and relaxed his body. There was something very soothing, very trusting about the way his laid there, body relaxed, open, trusting. This was okay, right? He felt nothing to indicate otherwise. After another span of time he settled himself back down next to the smaller, warm figure, rumbling softly deep in his throat when the warmth moved back over him again, as his drew up close behind him, laying an arm over him. After a time he was even able to go back to his dark, hot dream-filled sleep.
Blair lay there trying to control the shakes that were working their way through him. Jim had settled back down, let him spoon up behind him and embrace him...but who was this? It sure as hell wasn't his Jim. This man was primal, primitive, reacting based on instinct. He seemed to recognize Blair at some very basic level--or at least recognized that he wasn't a threat, but he didn't know him.
This is going to be the final ritual. When Jim takes me, this last time, that's it. If Chardis doesn't get pregnant, we'll be dead inside two weeks. And if she does get pregnant... That was an open question, something both of them had intended to discuss and never got around to. What would happen to them? It wasn't like Chardis could just set them free--not when they knew who she was, where she was (not really, his mind scoffed), the other murders. No, in all likelihood, they were gonna be dead soon; it was just a matter of how soon.
Blair sighed and tried to clear his mind enough to sleep, figuring that he was going to need to be as rested as possible for in the morning. For the final ceremony. For the--. His mind shied away from that word because that wasn't what it was going to be about. Rape is about violence and power and control. Jim has been manipulated and pushed to a point where he has no choice but to listen to his body's urges, but that doesn't mean he's raping me. He'll take me hard, probably, and I don't doubt but what it'll hurt, he winced as his ass throbbed, reminding him that he was already tender and sore there, never mind whatever would happen later on, but it's not fucking going to be rape! You can't rape someone who's willing. And forgetting all the rest of that, Jim wouldn't hurt me. Not on purpose; not unless he's been pushed and prodded and forced to do so. He cried today, for Chrissakes, when I made him take me hard. Jim's not in control of himself, and hasn't been since we got here. If anyone is 'raping' me, it's the bitches that have set all this up.
He shivered lightly, in spite of the heat being thrown from his partner, then pressed his lips drowsily to the tender skin at the nape of Jim's neck. "I love you," he whispered. "I know you wouldn't hurt me if you were in control. None of this is your fault; neither one of us has had any kind of control over the situation nor how we've been used. I just hope I can convince you of that, someday."
For the second time that night he flung himself upward, responding to strange dreams and visions, sounds and feeling. Except, this one had seemed so real! He knelt there on the bed, panting, as he considered what he'd just felt. Almost like a shaking, but not that pronounced. Something warm touched his leg, very tentatively, and he glanced down. A hand. A hand that wasn't his. He followed the line up the arm, across the shoulder, and glanced into fathomless blue eyes.
"Y-you shouldn't touch me...," he ventured, his voice a low, hoarse growling noise.
"Why not?" the body next to him asked, voice soft, soothing. He stared at the figure, his nostrils flaring as he scented him again, making sure it was the same as before. His.
"It's not safe." He shook his head then, not really understanding the questions, just kind of responding from his gut, from a very basic level.
Blair nodded solemnly. "Do you want me to stop touching you?" For a half a second he'd believed he saw a flicker of recognition inside those icy-hot eyes, but now he wasn't so certain. At the look of puzzlement on Jim's face he sighed. "Move my hand?" Keep it simple, stupid. Jim's operating at the Neanderthal level right now.
Jim nodded and Blair withdrew his hand, watching in further puzzlement as the bigger man closed his eyes, breathing deeply, opening his mouth as he inhaled. He's obviously trying to do something...the question here is what? Calling Jim's name got no response. He watched him get off the bed and pace, no, prowl, around the room. He'd just opened his mouth to ask again, when his partner turned to him, light eyes dark with anguish.
"I can feel it...feel the earth shivering. Something's wrong, but I don't know what...just that I can smell things...and I hear things...and I can feel the walls shiver. There's something all wrong with me, too. I can feel myself burning inside, and I don't know how to make it stop. Do you know how to make it stop burning?"
Blair was still staring at him, trying to find an answer, when the door opened.
Jim growled when the women entered the room, and Blair felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. His lover sounded almost like a large jungle cat; angry, ready to hurt whatever got in his way. Chardis gestured toward Jim and two large women grabbed him tightly and held on, hardly fazed by his bucking and moving. Blair closed his eyes when the familiar syringe was whisked out, and Jim's groan when the plunger was depressed and the dark liquid pumped into him made the younger man's stomach churn.
"Are you trying to kill him?" he asked hoarsely, watching Chardis from the corner of his eye. He trembled violently when she turned her full gaze on him, but managed to stay his ground.
"Well, well, Mr. Sandburg... Getting a touch of spirit back, are we? Perhaps we'll have to rectify that. Although," Blair shuddered as the evilest smile he'd ever seen curved around Chardis' lips, "I don't think you'll be much in the 'spirited' mood after your detective gets finished with your ass later. In fact, I don't imagine there will be much of your ass left." She laughed then, a dark laugh that sounded as though it had been pulled up from the depths of hell itself.
"Why?" he whispered then, turning his eyes back to Jim, watching the other man shudder violently, his body tense and tightly coiled.
"Oh, nothing personal, I assure you," Chardis' voice was low and near to his ear. He whirled in alarm when she touched his cheek lightly. "You've been the most interesting of all of them. It'll almost be a shame to see the two of you gone."
He definitely didn't like the sound of that and turned his head away. Jim was struggling violently now, straining for something, growling and moaning like a wild animal. He could see his friend was nearly at a fever pitch of lust and arousal and shuddered. It won't be rape, he reminded himself. Jim wouldn't rape me; this...caricature...that they've made him into is not Jim, and doesn't know what he's doing. He's not in control of anything, much less the baser instincts. It's not rape. Not rape. Even believing what he was telling himself, the younger man didn't want to focus his thoughts on what was coming up. Chardis leaned in close again and purred in his ear.
"What's the matter, Mr. Sandburg? Imagining the delights that are waiting for you? After all, its not often that one gets to fuck with a wild animal, is it? And, I can assure you, that's what your precious detective is right now. He's not aware of anything but the most basic needs of his body, and he will take whatever he requires to fulfill those needs." Her voice dropped to a low, pulsing whisper, her hot breath brushing over his ear. "He'll be pushed to the edge, Mr. Sandburg, and then we'll turn him loose on you. Animal instincts. That's all he'll be operating on. Are you scared? You should be. There's every possibility he'll rip you apart." She stepped back then, as if to gauge the effectiveness of her words, and seemed pleased to see Blair pale and shaking.
He shook his head slowly, trying to ignore the impact her words had on his areas of less-than-higher-reasoning. "No he won't. Jim won't. The beast you've turned him into might...but Jim won't hurt me."
Chardis smirked at him. "Believe what you will, little man. In the end it won't matter, when you're lying on the floor, bleeding. Will it?" She turned away then, gesturing to the other large woman in the room to escort Blair out. "Oh, Mr. Sandburg." His escort halted, leaving him no choice. "One other thing. There will be no ritual bath today; you will go as defiled as possible for this ultimate defilement."
Blair shook within the large woman's grasp. "You are one fucking sick, twisted bitch, aren't you?" he whispered hoarsely. His answer was a cuff upside the head by his escort, before he was dragged from the room.
He was aware only of the heat within his body, of the need to take and take and take until the heat was released and he could find calm and peace again. Fire and ice danced around him, spinning circles within his head until he was dizzy with need, consumed by hunger. There was no before, no after, there was only now, and the need which consumed him.
Eyes normally a light, sky-blue in color had darkened and dilated, leaving the thinnest circle around wide, deep black. He watched the others file into this small, dark room, lit only by flicking fire that danced on the walls. One he scented as male, the rest were female. The scent of arousal was high in the small room, and the need and hunger burning within him rose higher, approaching his limits and ability to cope. He growled low when the male was led before him, then held there while he sniffed and tasted, then growled louder when the shaking figure was moved away. A female appeared before him, offering herself for the same, shuddering under his touch as he licked his way around her body, tasting her arousal. He bit into the flesh offered him and felt the tremors below his feet echo those shifting through his body. Hot hands touched his body, then one grasped his and placed it directly on the wet heat between her legs. He moaned and grabbed for her.
Blair watched in horror as Jim pulled Chardis toward him, biting and clawing at her in an effort to get her close to him. He'd been shocked by the blatant animal lust shining in his partner's eyes, and horrified by the total lack of recognition in those same, when he'd been led before him. Jim had sniffed around him and licked over him, tasting him, and never once appeared to know who he was. One corner of his mind was overwhelmingly relieved by this; maybe Jim wouldn't remember any of this, wouldn't remember what he'd been forced to do. The rest of his mind was gibbering in terror; in spite of all of his rationalizations, and the fact that he did NOT in fact hold Jim responsible, this wasn't Jim any longer. He couldn't predict what this...thing...would do. Well, he could predict it...but he certainly didn't want to.
His shock and horror mutated into a feeling so overwhelming he no longer could place it, since he had no previous experience with it, when he watched as his partner was pushed onto his back on a low bench, then mounted by the devil bitch herself. Oh, shit, she was going to use herself to drive Jim to that point of no return.
In the flickering fire and candlelight of the ritual chamber, the figures in front of him cast eerie shadows on the walls. Jim writhed and moaned and panted below, with Chardis riding above him, her arms stretched upward and head flung back, calling out in a strange, harsh language.
Then there was a strange, hushed silence, and a loud, groaning bellow roared through the stillness of the room as Chardis pulled herself from Jim's body, leaving him lying on the bench, his body arching upward. Blair shook violently as two women dragged him forward at the same time that two others pulled the now-furious Jim upward. He was shoved down onto his hands and knees on the floor in front of Jim, his whole body shaking in fear, his mind whirling. He could see Chardis standing off to the side, panting slightly, locked in an embrace with Serita, as the other woman's mouth moved over her sweating body, seeking to alleviate the sexual arousal there. She smirked at him over Serita's shoulders, then nodded to the two women who'd been holding the fiercely struggling Jim.
"Release him."
This was the male he'd scented earlier, before the female had mounted him and teased him nearly to breaking. There was a faintly familiar tang now that he scented him again, but it was elusive and he couldn't place it.
He knelt up behind the trembling, shaking figure and ran his hands over the cold flanks of the male in front of him, steadying him, feeling the internal heat pulsing outward toward him. The heavy scent of fear hung in the air around him, and all about, swirling madly in and through his aching head and body was the intoxicating scent of sweat...of arousal...of sex. He took a deep, full breath, pulling the heady mix of scents into his lungs, savoring the way it became flavor on his tongue when he opened his mouth. There was a small opening in front of him, pink and tight between pale white flesh; this was the source of the pulsating, throbbing heat he sensed. A way to relieve the pain and tension coursing through his body. He could bury himself in this heat, release his need deep inside it. Find the relief his body sought so desperately.
His hands grasped the pale flesh tighter, and without so much as a growl for warning he lined himself up with the tiny throbbing entrance and slammed himself deep inside, grunting as the dry tissues opened for him, tearing as they parted to allow him entrance.
Blair screamed loud and long as his partner drove into his tight, dry body. He shuddered, deep, bone-wrenching spasms wracking his body as Jim--no, not Jim, but the unknowing beast they'd unleashed--slammed into him over and over again. He could feel the tears running down his face, and raised one trembling, shaking hand to wipe at him. His breathing was harsh and irregular; his heartrate was off the scale. He'd never felt a pain so exquisitely intense before. It made the pain of yesterday's penetration seem mild in comparison. And there were the other sensations that went along with it: the tearing sensation, almost like a Band-Aid being pulled off, that he felt deep within himself, along with wet warmth tickling down the backs and insides of his thighs.
I'm bleeding, he thought dizzily, the blood rushing to his head. I've torn badly enough to bleed. I wonder how bad? Chardis said he'd do it...that I'd be lying on the floor, bleeding...but Jim didn't do this to me. He groaned again as Jim's cock withdrew, then screamed again when it slammed back in. Stop it, Sandburg, he chastised himself. You're only giving them what they want: to see you screaming and crying, just like they swore you would. He bit down on hard on his lip with the next series of thrusts, then felt the blood oozing from that as well. His whole body ached, deep up inside of him where he hadn't realized he could ache. He moaned as Jim's cock seemed to swell larger and realized the bigger man was about ready to come. That's it, Jim. You come, and let's get this over with. Oh, god, please...make it end SOON. Just get it over with, c'mon, Jim...just shoot inside of me. Finish it! Dimly he realized he could hear Jim's agonized cry as he released, shooting pulse after pulse of hot semen into his partner--the partner he didn't recognize.
When it was over, and if he was honest, Blair had to admit the whole thing from penetration to completion hadn't taken more than five minutes, though it had seemed like hours, Jim pushed him forward, collapsing on top of him with his nose buried in Blair's hair. He could feel himself shaking, felt the nausea growing in him as his mind began processing and dealing with the pain. Oh, god, he ached. No, it was worse than that. It was like...like nothing he'd ever experienced before. A burning that was so hot, so deep, so totally enveloping him it was still hard to catch his breath. He groaned, the groan turning to a low, piteous moan when Jim stirred finally and withdrew, bringing about another, fresher wave of pain. Blair managed to raise himself up just a little before throwing up on the stone floor in front of him.
He heard a low, rumbling growl, but didn't register it until a large warm hand stroked over his hair. He shuddered under the touch, then heard a quiet voice whispering brokenly, "Mine...oh god, mine...no..."
Then the warmth of Jim's body was gone, the pressing force that was allowing him to deal with this at all. He heard a loud, rumbling roar as his partner was pulled off of him and forced away from him. Blair didn't look up, could barely find the strength to keep his head away from where he'd thrown up, much less move it any further. The roars became more and more muted until he assumed that Jim was being led back to their cell...and he was alone in the cold, dark room, lying on the floor bleeding, just as she'd said. He sighed, more of a groan than anything else, and lowered his head again, shifting just enough to rest an arm underneath his chin.
A noise behind him a few minutes later startled him out of the pain-filled doze he had started into, and he opened his eyes to find Chardis staring down at him mockingly, her eyes burning with icy black fire and an unholy gleam. She smiled.
"Well, well, Mr. Sandburg. Fancy finding you here, like this."
Terror rose up and claimed him as its companion, then blackness rose and overcame terror. The world spun drunkenly around him for just a moment, then he was no longer aware of anything around him.
He wasn't sure when he became aware of himself again, aware that he was Jim Ellison, and not just somebody lost in a hazy fog of dreams and half-formed images. He opened his eyes slowly, aware that he was lying curled on his side on the bed, but not remembering how he got there. He frowned then, because why would he have left? Where was his? Wait...his what? Blair. Where was Blair? His...friend, partner, lover, mate. His. He shuddered, pushing himself up into a sitting position on the bed, looking around warily. He could hear the steaming, hissing, rumbling sounds all around him, could feel the faint tremors under his feet. Where was Blair? They needed to get out of here, or figure a way to try. If they stayed here during seismic activity they'd end up dead for sure.
He sniffed, smelling Blair's scent on him, as well as a scent he didn't recognize, mingled with the scent of blood. Jim looked down, trying to find the source and shot straight up off the bed in horror as he realized that his penis was red with blood...and it didn't take a genius to figure out whose it was.
"Noooooo....no, no...oh, no, please..." he collapsed in on himself, falling to the floor on his knees, his eyes now squeezed shut to keep that image out. Except it didn't work. Now he was filled with the image of blood to mix with the other wavy, distorted images--ones he'd managed to convince himself were nothing more than hallucinations. "Noooo!!" he moaned again, his fingers scrubbing at himself, trying to get the blood off. He picked himself up on shaky legs and headed into the bathroom, there to scrub himself roughly over and over, until his cock was sore and aching both from earlier and from his actions now.
He stumbled back to the bed and sat down, staring dumbly at the flesh between his legs, wondering for a second if cutting it off would make any difference. No, not now. You've gone and done what you swore you wouldn't do. You raped him. Your partner...your best friend...the man you love. You're worse than these scum, Ellison, because you swore you'd never do it! "Oh, god...Blair..."
A low, muted rumbling jerked his attention away for a minute and he saw the panther sitting across from him, staring at him. We'll avenge him...we'll avenge us, the huge animal seemed to say, staring at him with those bottomless eyes that shifted from ebony to smoky-blue and back again. She won't leave here, ever...you won't leave here until she's paid the price. Vengeance, Sentinel. Your honor, his honor have been compromised; the price she must pay is a blood one, with her life.
Jim nodded, meeting the unwavering eyes with his own. He stood up, his legs still shaking. "Yes," he said firmly, then arched his back as the panther leapt toward him.
It was only a few short minutes later that Blair was returned to him. Pale, barely conscious, not moving under his own power. Jim glared at the woman who carried him in and dumped him on the bed, shifting restlessly as the power of the panther surged through him. Yvelle came forward then to set food from her tray to the table. At her first movement toward his obviously injured partner, Jim growled low, a warning rumble. He wasn't sure what the bitch saw in his eyes, but she back away from him, an odd look on her face.
"You will only make it worse on yourself in the long run," she told him, an oddly subdued tone to her voice.
"It can't get any fucking worse than it is," he snarled back. "You...animals act with a higher code of honor than what you do." He took another step toward her and she turned and walked from the room. The door was locked again.
A low groan from the bed sent him whirling back around and he gasped in horror as he got his first good look at Blair. Several bruises were forming on his sides and arms where he'd been held or forcibly restrained; his face was pale, the cut or bitten lip standing out red and swollen in the paleness. And lower...Jim shuddered when he took in the dried blood streaking down Sandburg's legs...and startled again when he realized there was fresh blood there as well.
"Fuck! Blair? Blair, baby, can you hear me?" He moved over to the bed cautiously, not wanting to scare his partner by appearing suddenly. To his surprise Blair shifted a little and a hand shot out to grasp at his wrist.
"Jim--oh, god, Jim...Jesus..." tears started then, flowing down pale cheeks, washing out some of the color in the vivid blue of his eyes.
"I--" his throat choked up then, unable to continue. The hand holding his wrist pulled slightly against him, the barest of counter-pressures and he looked up to see wet eyes staring at him.
"Please...hold me," a hoarse voice whispered. Jim shuddered and shook his head. Blair tightened his weak grasp on his partner's wrist. "Jim...please. I know you didn't do this. I need you to know that too. I need you to hold me, need to feel your strength. Please."
He was shaking and his legs didn't want to hold him up any longer. With a low moan of pain and despair he sank to his knees, landing beside the bed. He carefully shifted Blair and gathered him into his arms, cradling him close, burying his face into the younger man's chest, nuzzling at the silky hair and warmth he found there.
"Hurt you...so bad...so hurt..."
Blair nearly groaned again at the pain in that husky voice. He shook a little bit; he was so cold, so tired, and he hurt so bad. "Shhh...we can worry about that later. Jim, I need help, man. I--I'm still bleeding..." I might not be if the bitches hadn't seen to that one little detail. He shuddered with remembering, then pushed those thoughts aside. They served no purpose here, now. "Jim." He spoke gently into the older man's ear. "Jim, do you hear me? I need you, babe. Need your help." His partner raised his head and Blair nearly gasped at the pain in those eyes. He also saw a flicker of something wild, untamed, but not to be feared. Not for him, anyway. Go easy, Sandburg...he's still not clear of the drugs yet. He stroked the light brown hair, his fingers gliding over the short hair. "Will you help me, Jim?" he crooned gently.
Jim pulled back enough to look at Blair's face, to look in his eyes. Although cloudy with pain, he saw nothing resembling fear, hate, mistrust or condemnation. Nothing but love, caring and understanding. "How?" he asked raggedly, his breath catching in his throat. "How can you look at me...like that?"
"L-like what?" He shook a little harder, his system starting to react to what he'd been through.
"Like you still...love me." The last words were whispered, the sound harsh in the stillness of their tiny room.
"Listen to me, Jim." Warm fingers grasped his chin roughly, pushed his face upward. "I do love you. Nothing that has happened here has changed that. You weren't you when they forced you to do...this." Blair gestured to himself. "You had no control, man. None. They made y-you do this..." his teeth were chattering lightly now, and the younger man shook his head. "H-help me, p-please. I n-need to b-be covered up."
Jim nodded, still looking in Blair's eyes. He loosed the younger man, then got up and moved around gathering a cloth to wipe his friend off with, as well as his clothes. "I should dress too," he said at one point, after pulling Blair's sweater over his head.
The grad student nodded. "Yeah, man. 'Cause something big is gonna happen. I can feel it."
"Yes. I can, too. I can hear it as well. The earth is uneasy right now--restless. It keeps trembling." Jim's eyes had a faraway look and Blair wasn't sure if his friend was actually sensing something, or still tripping out on the drugs in his system. He shivered again, the fine tremors running through him almost constantly now.
"Jeans, Jim. Help me get my jeans on. Then you get dressed." There was a sense of urgency growing within him, and Blair wondered about it. It wasn't like he had any heightened senses, and he'd never had anything resembling psychic abilities before, but something was going to happen. Was happening. He nearly cried aloud when a large rumble moved through their room, followed by a tremor that rocked the bed and rattled the dishes on the table. "Hurry, Jim!"
Ellison fumbled with Blair's jeans, then closed his eyes and ears and pulled them up the younger man, hearing the stifled gasps and moans as his partner's injured body reacted to the motion. He'd looked briefly when he cleaned him up, but his mind wasn't clear enough to focus on what he was seeing, other than to recognize that fairly extensive damage had occurred. And Blair was still bleeding, a slow ooze that wouldn't stop. The tremor under his feet shocked him and his eyes flew open to meet Blair's. "I--you felt that, too."
Sandburg nodded. "Hurry! We have to get out of here somehow." He shifted awkwardly, trying to roll off the bed. Shit. We need shoes too. Jim was pulling his own clothes on now, his fingers rough and uncertain. Blair shook his head. "Never mind with buttons, Jim. Where're our shoes at?"
The older man looked around wildly, his body beginning to respond to the primal urges within it, knowing that the moment for vengeance was coming. He spotted them under the table and grabbed them out, jamming Blair's onto his feet at the same time he pushed his own on. Laces weren't important right now. Being ready was. The floor shook again, and a chunk of rock dropped from the ceiling.
There was a hissing, popping noise, and another rumble, and a long split appeared in the ceiling above them, racing madly across it. Jim grabbed the blanket from the bed and pulled it over their heads. "Soon..." he muttered. "Very soon."
Another muted roar as the earth protested whatever had awakened it, and the door to their cell popped open with a tortured clang of metal joints against metal.
"You'll have to carry me out of here," Blair began, not sure even how they would do that. He hadn't gotten any further when Jim scooped him up and dumped him unceremoniously over his shoulder in the traditional fireman's carry. He grabbed hold of Jim's shirt to anchor himself, then closed his eyes. Any movement hurt like hell, and he had a feeling this was going to be a bumpy ride. "Let's go, man," he whispered. He wasn't surprised when Jim started for the door; what did surprise him was that the older man paused then, right outside the threshold, sniffing into the hallway, turning his head this way and that. "Jim? What're you doing, man?"
There was no answer, nor had he really expected one. The older man sniffed again, then turned and began walking--almost running--down the long corridor.
The panther loped along the corridor, all senses open wide and receptive. He paused occasionally to sniff, and search, to make sure he was on the right path. So far, so good. The earth trembled around him, and the weight on his back was jarring, but he persisted. Too much depended on this for him not to. At a juncture where several of the tunnel-like corridors met he paused again, raising his head into the air, sniffing wildly. He strained, his brain focusing on the many scents in the air around him, then heard a growl in his chest to match the one that shook the floor beneath his feet as he found it. Her scent. The heavy scent of darkness, of malevolence...of pure evil. He shifted the warmth hanging against his back and heard a muffled moan, then a whispered, "Jim", but could not respond. His every fiber was focused on the retribution at hand, and nothing--nothing--was going to deter him. He moved on again.
The trail led him into the stone chamber where he'd committed the most heinous of all acts--that of violence against his mate, against the one he loved. How fitting that the evil that had brought this to be should end its life here. He growled again, not so low this time, issuing a challenge. The evil looked up at him, a feral baring of teeth moving across its face. He swung the warm weight of his mate off his back and settled him on the floor near the door, moving forward with determination. More evil appeared on the dais, right behind the one he was focused on. Good...two at once. He felt his own mouth open, curve, baring teeth and fangs, white gleaming in the darkness.
A low voice purred at him, but he didn't hear it any more than he'd heard his mate. His mind was totally focused. The tremors under his feet continued to rock the chamber and chunks of stone and rock were dropping everywhere. Time to finish this and leave before they couldn't leave at all.
He heard the whispered inhalation of breaths; one from behind him, two from in front of him. He reached out, hands shifting within his vision. Was he man, was he beast? A low growl came from him again and his hands closed around a slender neck, twisting viscously, glorying in the sharp snapping noise that reverberated through him and swirled around him. He could see in her eyes that she saw the essence of him, and grinned again--the panther baring his fangs as it leapt for her.
The other evil had approached as he did, bent on protecting its own as well. He grinned again. Nothing was going to keep him from his moment here. The panther surged strong within him, pushing him forward. He leapt toward the other one, the large form struggling against him where the purely evil one hadn't at all. He grasped this neck as well, feeling the bones grinding beneath the sensitive pads of his fingers as he tightened his grip, pushing harder, seeking to crush that which allowed life. A low moan caught his attention and he turned, seeing his mate shifting, crying, face caught in a rictus of mingled gladness and horror. He squeezed harder and the body in his hands squirmed frantically as the air was cut off. A vicious twist and the life was gone. He let the body fall to the floor, panting heavily, then turned, feeling the primal part of him surging again. Time to get out of here. He scooped his mate up and settled him again, then began the torturous journey down the collapsing tunnels toward freedom.
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