Claire became aware that she was conscious when she felt the pain. Acute pain, in her back and neck. Especially her neck. She groaned and tried to rub the stiffness out of it, but her hands came up short with a painful jolt.
It was hard for her to turn her head, but when she twisted around she could see the chains wrapped around her wrists, pinching her skin and tethering her to the iron loops set into the wall, her arms above her head. There was fresh blood leaking down from her torn wrists, following the trails of dried blood which already stained her arms. The metal was still digging into her wrists, and Claire shifted, trying to get her feet under her and take the weight off her arms. She felt a stabbing jolt of panic when she discovered that her captor had secured her in such a way that it was impossible for her to stand without literally dislocating her shoulders.
Claire looked around, taking in her surroundings for the first time. She was in a small, concrete room, dimly lit by a single bare bulb hanging in the centre of the ceiling. There was nothing in the room except a single wooden chair, positioned in front of her and to the left, facing towards her. She had a strong impression that, not long ago, the chair had been occupied. By whom, she couldn't think.
A door with a small barred window in it was directly opposite her, but she could see nothing through it.
She didn't know how long she'd been there; she couldn't even remember how she'd got there. There was no natural light in the small room, no way of telling the time. Her hands had gone numb, but they began to tingle and spike painfully now, returning to life as she wriggled them in their restraints.
A noise rang out suddenly in the silence. Footsteps, echoing down a corridor. Claire heard them coming closer, and then stop as a shadow fell across the window in the door.
She shrank back instinctively, pressing herself against the wall even though she knew it was useless. So did her captor. She heard a low, sinister chuckle, and the sound of a key turning in the lock.
Silence for a moment.
Then the door swung open slowly, and for a moment all Claire could make out was a dark outline in the doorway. Then her eyes adjusted to the light, and she flinched unwillingly.
Francois.
A slow, sick smile spread over his features.
"Hello, little Claire."
Francois stepped forward, purposefully shutting the door behind him with a loud click, letting her hear him lock it again.
"Aren't you pleased to see me?"
He stalked across the room, watching her intently. He stopped when he reached her, crouching down in front of her. Then he leant in and inhaled deeply at her neck. Claire shivered, trying to pull herself away.
"Ah. I can smell your fear." He smirked, and trailed a finger in the blood dripping down her arm. She turned her face away as he brought his finger down to it, but he grabbed her cheeks in one hand and wrenched her back around to face him. Then he slowly daubed her face with her own blood, smearing it across her lips.
The smell of her blood made Claire slightly nauseous, but what Francois did next made her feel physically sick, her stomach twisting with it.
He leaned in, forcing her head to stay still, one hand tangled and pulling painfully in her hair, and closed his mouth over hers. His tongue forced its way into her mouth as he kissed her roughly, licking away the blood he'd smeared there a minute before.
Claire whimpered, panicking and trying unsuccessfully to turn her body and head away from him. Her eyes widened in fear as his grip just became even more painful, and she felt his fangs scrape her lip just before he let go, shoving her back. Her head hit the wall with a dull crack, and she groaned.
When she opened her eyes again, Francois was sitting on the wooden chair directly in front of her, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees. The way he was watching her made her stomach give a sickening, dread-filled lurch, and the colour rise to her cheeks.
"I was your first, wasn't I, Claire?" He murmured, his voice low, a cat-like smile curling on his lips. "The first to...taste you." He dropped to a whisper, and Claire tried to suppress a shudder. His smile grew wider. "Never forget that."
She closed her eyes briefly, and took a calming breath, trying to quash the horror which gripped her mind.
"What do you want with me?" Her voice shook.
Francois seemed almost disappointed to be reminded of his purpose - the point to her kidnapping.
"Answers." He said, shortly.
"I don't know anything." Claire said, automatically.
"No, no. That will never do. I hope you will think about the answers to my questions a little more carefully than that." The chair creaked slightly as he leaned further forwards, putting his face a few inches away from hers. Her blood was smeared on his lips. "Here's the first one. Where is Bishop being held?"
Claire blinked. Bishop?
"I...I don't know."
Francois growled, and a small squeak of fear escaped her. "I don't! Amelie - I heard her say that he was being kept in a cell - a prison- but I don't know where, I don't!"
"Enough! Next question. Where is the cure?"
Claire's heart sank.
"I don't..." She trailed into silence at a warning snarl from Francois. "I- don't think there's any left. I mean, Myrnin's blood was the cure, but it won't be anymore because it's been too long and it will be out of his system-" She broke off with a gagging sound as Francois' hand closed around her throat. His narrowed eyes blazed into her as he ground out his words.
"I'm beginning to think this was a waste of time. I thought you were well informed. You are their favourite pet, after all." He sneered.
Claire's eyes widened as his grip tightened, and she shook her head frantically, her throat convulsing in an attempt to get air. Francois' fingers squeezed closer and closer together, until the edges of her vision began to go grey. He leaned in again to speak into her ear, but his words were almost lost to her. Almost.
"I will end you, you little bitch. But I'm going to cause you so much pain first."
Claire made a choked sound of fear, her ears popping, and the vampire's grip on her relaxed slowly, just enough for her to be able to breathe.
"If you tell me what I need to know, maybe it won't be so bad for you. Maybe."
She whimpered, her breaths coming in little gasps as his hand disappeared from her throat completely. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she sobbed once.
"I- don't -...know anything." Claire's broken voice was barely audible, but he heard it. Francois slapped her, hard, his hand connecting with her cheekbone with a loud crack. Her head hit the wall again.
A trickle of blood ran down the side of her head and into her eye, turning her vision briefly red before she blinked it away.
Francois snarled, and then whirled around and left, slamming the door hard behind him. Claire sagged, relief and despair washing through her body at the same time. She sobbed again, a high, keening sound of confused, hopeless misery. Her body shook with pain and fatigue. The trickle of blood reached the corner of her mouth, and the taste of it made her nauseous.
Claire didn't know how long he left her in that room. Two days, three? Francois visited her twice more that she could recall, and each time she told him the truth, with increasing desperation and a mounting sense of dread. Each time he got angry, and hurt her. She drifted in and out of consciousness, hunger and pain curling around her beleaguered brain in a never-ending circle every time she woke. When was the last time she had eaten? How long had she been here? What was going to happen to her? What was everyone thinking? Her stomach clenched painfully as she thought of first Shane, and then Myrnin, and she felt bile rise in her throat.
"Oh, God…"
The words slipped from her mouth without her really registering it, and for a moment she saw their shapes darting around in the air. They formed a dark shape in front of her unfocused gaze.
"Are you ready to tell me anything yet, little Claire?"
A low, menacing voice, and an impossibly gentle hand caressing her chin. She shook her head jerkily, her eyes widening as she tried to bring the figure into focus.
Myrnin's soft features buzzed into view, his dark eyes imploring her, a sad smile on his face. Her lips moved, shaping his name silently. He leaned towards her, and for a moment she strained towards him, too. Then he snarled, his eyes blazing red and his fangs snapping down. Faraway pain shot down her left arm and she gave a hoarse cry, her voice weak. Her eyes were fixed on Myrnin; his face was contorted in rage, but his eyes still seemed to plead with her.
Then his features shifted, momentarily snapping into another person altogether. Claire whimpered, trying desperately to keep her vision in place. He was slipping away from her now as he drew nearer in slow motion, fangs bared. It was Francois who buried his teeth into her neck.
