A/N: It gets a bit rough in here. If you survived all the crap Ethan's hands and legs went through in RE7 and RE8, then I'm sure you'll be fine.
Click.
Ethan stirred. His head throbbed with a dull ache. The pounding sensation reminded him of the last hungover he'd gotten not too long ago. Opening up a bottle of aged bourbon alongside Mia and Chris tended to have that effect.
Sorry, Ethan.
The suppressed gunshots reverberated within Ethan's skull. His eyes snapped open and he lurched forward, only to come to a dead stop as cold shackles dug into his wrists. Ethan's heart performed a deft summersault in his chest as he tugged again with either arm. His arms, splayed out by his sides, barely got a foot off the ground before being halted by the chains. Kicking his legs up yielded little success either.
A chilling giggle emanating from Ethan's right caused him to flinch in the opposite direction. His eyes struggled to peer into the pitch darkness around him, but he saw her – a vaguely humanoid shape hunched over by his side. Curvy in figure and with a flowing dress and the almost ethereal robe that drifted along to an unseen breeze.
"I was beginning to worry that Bela had already drained you, man-thing."
Ethan put on a fierce scowl as he began to pick apart the features on the witch's face. It was the brunette. Bela had mentioned a Daniela and a Cassandra. He wasn't yet sure which one this was.
"Fuck you. What the," Ethan tugged on his shackles and chains once more, "What the fuck are you doing?"
Sinister giggling filled the air. She brought her hands down to the restraints of his right hand. As if to answer his question, she simply tightened the shackles, allowing the rusty metal to dig into his skin.
Through clenched teeth, Ethan hissed, "Let me go."
"And why would I do that?" She tilted her head. "Especially right after I secured your shackles. My sister, in all her wisdom," A roll of the eyes, "Did not even bother to restrain you. It just boggles the mind that she could be so incompetent, so careless."
With a hungry grin, the witch shook her head. "No, you wretched man-creature. I will not let you go. The fun is only just getting started."
"Fuck off," Ethan growled, "If I weren't chained up-"
The sound of leather on flesh echoed against the dungeon walls. Ethan's face stung with sharp pain as the witch drew her hand back. "What? You would shoot me with your pathetic guns? Please, you ignorant man. I can assure you I am far more powerful than your mere bullets."
Ethan took deep breaths. The anger and the need to fight back threatened to boil over. Unrestrained, it may do him some good. But in his current predicament, he was liable to hurt himself tugging on his manacles and yelling like a trapped animal.
"Do your worst," Ethan challenged.
The witch's eyes lit up like he'd struck a chord in her – but not quite the one he was going for. She only seemed egged on by his defiance. Like the very thought of his fighting spirit awoke something within her.
Her gloved hand took his face in; fingers dug against his cheekbone and her thumb pressed against his chin. She angled his scowling face this way and that, all while watching him with a bite of her lip. "I do love a fighter."
The now familiar sound of a swarm of beating wings filled the dungeon. A faint hope sprung up in Ethan's chest. Maybe it was Bela. Maybe she'd give him a hand.
No, no.
Stupid.
Bela played good cop. She was to be her sisters' crafty counterpart in their grand scheme of breaking him and tormenting him into submission. Hell, she seemed like a smart one. Maybe it was all her plan. The big mastermind carrying out the Lady of the castle's orders.
Titillated laughter bounced off the walls and the swarm began to take shape as it passed through the cell doors. In the darkness, Ethan could just barely distinguish red hair.
Not Bela then.
Ethan was almost disappointed.
Almost.
"Cassandra!" The redhead exclaimed, "I hope you didn't start without me!"
The brunette, Cassandra, rolled her eyes in a seemingly fond manner. From her position crouched by his right side, she shifted to look at her sister. "You're right on time, Daniela."
Daniela's face brightened with an excited grin. She closed the distance with long, graceful strides before coming to a stop by his left. She sat on the floor with a ladylike elegance before grabbing Ethan's face with both her hands.
"Hey!" Ethan's protest fell on deaf ears.
Daniela bit her bottom lip as she examined his face, gloved hands running along his features. "He's even cuter up close, sister!"
Not exactly what Ethan expected.
"I don't know about that," Cassandra hummed, "I have not heard him squeal for me yet."
It appeared to tickle Daniela's funny bone. She tossed her head back in laughter. The odd miscellany of trinkets on her necklace jiggled around as she cackled. She placed a hand to her chest just as her laughter simmered down. "Oh, sister. Perhaps I should get first taste. There may not be much left of him by the time you finish."
Ethan's stomach squirmed in discomfort. Cassandra's sinister giggling was far more disconcerting than that of her sisters. She hummed, as if in consideration, then nodded. "Be my guest, sister."
"Hey, no!" Ethan interjected, lurching back up once more, and straining against his bindings. Cassandra's hand clamped over his face. With inhuman strength, she forced his head back down to the floor. His skull smacked against the stone with a dull thud, sending a fresh cluster of stars dancing across his vision.
He fought in spite of it, wriggling and kicking like a fish out of water. He was interrupted by a brief, sharp tingle spasming within his forearm. Ethan ceased his squirming to look at Cassandra, who wore a satisfied smile on her blood-smeared face. The unease bubbled within him by the second. His eyes followed Cassandra's arm down to her gloved hand, and then to the knife piercing his long sleeves and impaling his arm to keep it still.
His arm gave an involuntary jolt as the pain shot through his limb like an electrical shock. The warmth from the stab's entry point boiled over to searing heat within milliseconds. The countless severed nerve endings in his arm screamed out in pain.
Ethan bit his tongue. He clamped down on it hard enough to draw blood. His breaths were ragged – nearly animalistic. All the while, he kept his fiery glare locked onto Cassandra. He wouldn't scream. He wouldn't give her the goddamn satisfaction.
Cassandra's smile never faltered, even as she twisted the knife in his arm to elicit a reaction. The pain multiplied with each degree she rotated the knife. He squirmed and grunted and huffed in the effort to suppress his instinct to scream his lungs out.
Pinned down to the floor, Ethan's arm oozed blood, darkening his ripped sleeve. His legs continued kicking out and flailing, albeit at a slightly reduced intensity. The stabbing's effect was nearly instantaneous. He already felt sapped of strength. Not that he had a whole lot to begin with after Bela had fed from him not long ago.
Daniela had been watching the spectacle unfold with a sadistic fascination in her eyes. Ethan only noticed this when Cassandra's hand on his face pushed down harder, forcing him to turn left to alleviate some of the pressure.
"Look how feisty he is," Daniela looked from Cassandra to Ethan. "That's adorable."
Ethan was not liking what passed for adorable among these psychopaths.
Cassandra's fingers adjusted over his face, brushing a few digits over his lips. "How I love when they squirm."
In the midst of all the turmoil, terror, and blinding pain, Ethan felt the briefest moment of clarity pass over him.
Finding Rose was all he cared for. To do that, he needed to get out alive. Missing fifty percent of his blood levels and two fingers – that didn't matter. As long as he could stand and fight at the end of the day, he was good to go. Just like he'd accepted to relax for Bela as a cooperating captive, he needed to cooperate with these two to ensure his survival.
Ethan didn't have a clear read on Daniela just yet. Cassandra though – fuck – she seemed as sadistic and insane as they came. It was increasingly clear that she enjoyed his struggling and his resistance. She liked a fighter, as she'd just said. If he stopped fighting, she was liable to lose interest in him. Maybe she'd just eat him and be done with it.
If he kept being a pain in her ass and fighting and resisting her, she may just be in favor of keeping him alive. For entertainment and bloody torture, if nothing else. It felt like a lose-lose situation. A lose-slightly-less-bad-lose situation if you were optimistic. If he could avoid Cassandra altogether, that would be ideal. But until then, he had to play her game and be the unwilling captive full of fire and brimstone.
Cassandra spoke up, breaking his train of thought. Her cool, delighted eyes were trained on him while she addressed Daniela. "Hurry up, sister. This man-thing has gotten me excited."
Another giggle came from Daniela, and she made her move. The witch's hands encircled his left arm. The gnashing teeth and spurting of his blood were likely soon to follow.
Ethan's expectations were subverted yet again when Daniela took the time to sidle up to him. Ethan blinked in bewilderment as she stuck one long leg out to wrap around his left. She tugged on his chained arm to bring it as far as it would go. From there, she all but embraced his arm and pressed her cheek into his bandaged palm. Like she wanted him to cup her cheek as if they were college sweethearts.
His first instinct was to recoil. The confusion subsided just enough for his resistance and self-preservation to return. As Ethan yanked his hand back, Daniela came along with it. She looked almost disappointed when her eyes met his. She whined in a petulant tone, "Come on, man-creature. Don't be such a bad boy."
Ethan's skin crawled at the genuine pout on Daniela's face.
It was one of those times Ethan wished he never woke up after Jack Baker knocked his lights out. His life could have ended in that godforsaken house in Louisiana, and he would have thanked God for it.
Unfortunately, Ethan wasn't that lucky.
Or maybe God just liked seeing him go through the ringer.
He seemed to derive some jubilation from watching Ethan be surrounded by mentally deranged mutants and witches.
The sensation of Daniela's leg rubbing against his own elicited a shudder from Ethan. Her cheek continued to nuzzle into his fingers, looking for affection. If he could lock this memory in a box and dump it in the ocean, he would. In that pleading, almost pitiful voice, Daniela insisted, "Hold me."
Reluctantly, Ethan spread the few fingers he had left on his hand to cup Daniela's cheek. The smile it drew would have been admittedly attractive. If only it didn't belong to a bloodthirsty cannibal that could shapeshift into a swarm of flies.
A contented purr rumbled from Daniela's chest as she nestled into his hand. "I love you too, man-thing."
"What?"
Daniela craned her neck and clamped onto his wrist without warning. Her painfully human-like teeth dug into his flesh with enough force to break skin. Unlike the fangs Bela had used, these teeth made a far messier job of him.
The pained scream just barely died in Ethan's throat. He took shallow breaths and gasps while trying to free his hand. Daniela kept an iron grip on him – one to his hand to keep it secured by her cheek, and the other by his forearm to keep from pulling away. The searing, stabbing heat intensified with each passing moment. The slick blood spurted out at an alarming volume. All he could do was wriggle and grunt and curse under his breath while Daniela feasted on his blood.
The flesh of his wrist was torn open in an ugly, jagged cut – bad enough that he could see a flap of skin hanging limply over one side. It was a sight horrendous enough to make his stomach turn. If it weren't for the tolerance to this bullshit he'd built up after the Baker Incident, he probably would have puked all over himself by now.
Ethan was an informal expert in blood loss after all he had been through. He'd lost pints of the life-giving crimson in his time unwittingly facing off against his mutated foes. He focused on mentally documenting his symptoms. It helped combat the confusion and disorientation that came with plummeting blood levels.
His breathing was shallow and rapid, not quite hyperventilating just yet. Though naturally, the fact he had a knife through one arm and a cannibal's teeth through the other was contributing to his ragged breathing. The deep, stinging pain that radiated all the way into his bones was jarring. The less he focused on it, the more he could deal with it.
The kicks and flailing he'd been doing previously were losing their fervor as well now that fatigue was setting in. Ethan allowed his legs to settle down so as to conserve the little energy he had. Daniela merely continued brushing her leg against his now that he'd stopped wriggling.
The lack of nausea and a pounding headache were a good sign, at least. Hemorrhagic shock wasn't setting in just yet.
That didn't mean he should lie around and do nothing until it did, though.
With a deep, purposeful breath, Ethan centered himself. He tugged back on his bleeding arm with all his might, enough to force Daniela to follow along his arm. Cassandra still had his other arm pinned with the knife. That left her one hand over his face to keep him down. Seeing no other proper recourse, Ethan took a page from the lycans' books.
Ethan bit down hard on Cassandra's fingers, earning a surprised gasp from the witch. He tore into her two fingers with all the force he could muster. He felt the bones and ligaments beneath her gloves shift before losing their form entirely.
He yanked against his restraints and gagged in horror as the bitten digits shifted into a writhing mass of flies in his mouth. They spilled out from between his lips as he spat and coughed. Their abnormally large, solid bodies crawled along the insides of his mouth before taking flight and escaping. Ethan felt the bile in the back of his throat – the disgusting taste of decay and rot assaulted his tastebuds. One fly took its time rubbing against his tongue, even as he struggled to spit it out. Finally, it slammed into the inside of his cheek.
The terror dawned on Ethan too late by the time it dug into the soft walls of his mouth. The pain was sharper than a bullet when the fly tore through the other side of his cheek with a sickeningly squishy burst of blood. It fluttered on over to rejoin Cassandra's hand. Eyes bleary from the pain and the gagging, Ethan watched the small swarm reform Cassandra's missing fingers. She flexed her hand experimentally, demonstrating its full range of motion. She wore a smug smile all the while.
"So feisty, man-thing," Cassandra remarked.
"Fuck you." Ethan spat back.
Entirely in her own world, Daniela finally drew her head up with a delighted moan. Her bloody smile morphed into a frown upon seeing Ethan's now bleeding face. "Cassandra, did you have to do that? You are blemishing his handsome face!"
Cassandra bobbed one shoulder in a careless shrug. "He won't need it for much longer."
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Ethan growled in question.
"I believe the words you used were," Cassandra ripped the knife from his arm, "Do your worst?"
Ethan's face twisted from the blinding pain in his arm, now renewed by the knife being removed. He recovered after a beat and snarled right back, "Try me, bitch!"
The smile that spread across Cassandra's face, and the ensuing sadistic giggle were the stuff of nightmares. She stared at Ethan from down her nose in a decidedly smug manner. "I will."
Ethan wasn't sure at this point what it was keeping him from going into shock or passing out. The sensory overload in and of itself should have been enough to do him in. His throbbing cheek, his pulsating left wrist – which, Ethan was vaguely aware, was still being cradled and occasionally licked by Daniela – and the new hole in his right arm. He felt the unrelenting pain with every throbbing beat of his frantic heart. Add to that the cold, stale air in the dungeon, and the taste of rot in his mouth that would take a week of scrubbing to get out – Ethan was nearing his limits. He'd had enough mutilation and rotten bugs back in the Baker House.
Cassandra kept her firm grip on his arm. As she did, she ran her tongue along the length of the knife, slowly and deliberately. She let out a moan upon licking the last drop of blood from the knife's chipped tip.
"Mother says you're stale. I think you're delicious."
Daniela was quick to agree, tongue and lips still grazing over his trickling wrist. "He tastes so good."
Mildly delirious now, the words tumbled out of Ethan's mouth, "Let me outta these fucking chains – I'll show you delicious."
It was, in hindsight, not the best threat he'd ever delivered.
Cassandra's dark brows pitched together in confusion. She exchanged looks with Daniela, who asked, "Are you coming onto my sister, you silly man?"
"No, fuck you," Ethan grunted and turned back to Cassandra, "And fuck you too."
All it earned was another round of twisted giggling from the sisters.
Jesus Christ.
Ethan was in hell. He'd died and gone to hell. He was sure of it.
"Such a foul mouth on you," Cassandra remarked. "I'll eat that tongue of yours for dessert. But for now…"
The tip of the blade sunk into Ethan's right arm, just by the crook of his elbow. The only consolation was how sharp it was. He couldn't feel the knife, save for the slight jolt on impact. Of course, that wasn't going to last.
Cassandra tugged the blade across the inside of his forearm, ripping the fabric of his hoodie and sweater open and slicing his skin all the way to his wrist. That was when the pain kicked in. Ethan instinctively tugged back against his restraints and his captors to no avail. His body shook and shuddered far beyond his control. The sight of all the blood spilling out of the angry line on his forearm was finally enough to flip his stomach one time too many.
The hours had been a blur already – spending time passed out after Bela had drunk from him only made it worse. There was no telling how long it had been since his last meal. His stomach was nearly empty. All he had to purge was sickly yellow stomach acid. He retched, tears welling up in his eyes as the fluids burned his insides, all the way to his throat, his teeth, and onto the stone floor by his right.
Cruel laughter erupted from Cassandra at his reaction. The witch's gloved fingers pressed down on the fresh cut, causing the blood to seep out faster and harder. She brought his chained arm up to take a long taste of his mutilated flesh.
With a lick of her bloody lips, she giggled, "Have I broken you already, you pathetic man?"
His body's involuntary shaking made it difficult to convey the extent of the rage he felt at being brought this low. Through chattering teeth, Ethan hissed, "Fuck off."
Ethan never thought it would cross his mind, but Mia chainsawing his hand off was preferable to this. That was quick and excruciatingly painful. But at least, after the hand came off and he was faced with the bloody stump, he had only that to contend with.
This was torture. There was no other word to describe the sick, twisted delight Cassandra was getting from running her knife over his still bleeding wound – gradually deepening the cut with each pass of her blade. She alternated between this and digging her tongue into the bloody crevice. Occasionally she nipped at the frayed edges of his torn flesh, but the nerve endings seemed to have been mostly severed by that point. He only felt her teeth digging into his skin because of the tugging sensation as she tore little bits off.
Daniela was contented with his left arm. With zero attempts made to stop the bleeding, his wrist continued to leak blood steadily but slowly. She kept her hold of his arm, almost curled around it like a cat as she licked his wrist clean.
Ethan had since stopped trying to actively fight back. He didn't have the strength to get either of the witches off. The best he could do was bare his teeth at Cassandra and spit insults her way. Apparently, she still found that to be highly entertaining.
There was no way of telling how many excruciating minutes had passed by the time Cassandra released his arm. The moments blended together as he felt nothing but the unbearable pain caused by Cassandra's knifework. He heaved no sigh of relief. By now, Ethan could tell once Cassandra started, no way was she slowing down.
As expected, the witch moved onto her next target. "Your blood may be good, but your flesh," She hummed in satisfaction, closing her eyes. "It is to kill for."
Her gloved hand smeared blood across Ethan's arm as it slid over to grip his hand. "I'm thinking of a finger next."
"Jesus Christ," Ethan muttered under his breath.
Daniela appeared to perk up hearing Cassandra go on, "You've already lost two on that hand. What say we even out your right?"
"We can have one finger each, sister!" Daniela exclaimed and abruptly released his hand. It fell to the cold stone floor far limper than he'd expected it to. Ethan stared at his mangled left wrist, watching his fingertips twitch. He'd tried to flex his fingers to see if the hand was working. He'd lost too much blood. The motor functions of that hand were done for unless he got some first aid soon.
Ethan felt surprisingly calm about it. After seeing his two fingers and a good chunk of his hand ripped off by a fucking wolfman, this seemed tame in comparison.
"You take the pinky," Cassandra told her sister, who'd come to crouch down by her side, "I will take his ring finger."
"Absolutely fuck you," Ethan shuddered out, "You fucking psychopath."
The knife was positioned right by his ring finger, ready to slice the digit off completely. Ethan held his breath and waited.
A faint clicking sound made itself known across the dungeon's corridors. Daniela and Cassandra turned their heads up from Ethan's hand to look over at the cell door. The sound gained clarity as the echoes bouncing off the walls drew closer. They were heels clicking on stone, Ethan realized.
From where he lay on the ground, looking towards the cell door, there appeared to be a flickering light coming from around the corner. Ethan's cell was a corner room, of sorts. To his left was a hardy set of iron bars forming one side of the cell wall. To the front were more rusty bars and the cell door itself. To his right and to his back were thick stone walls. The cell was bare, save for the shackles now restraining him, and a chamber pot towards the rear. Everything to the left was a dead end, while rounding the corner to the right led to the labyrinthian set of dungeon cells and corridors, which would eventually lead to the kitchen stairs.
"Damn," Cassandra whispered under her breath.
Daniela looked towards her sister. Her eyes appeared almost comically large, like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Are we in trouble?"
Cassandra scoffed and rolled her eyes. "We are about to find out."
Stepping in from around the corner was Bela with an oil lantern in one hand. The orange glow illuminated the tight frown she fixed on her sisters. Her amber eyes bore into each of them in turn, before landing on Ethan. The frown only deepened as the light revealed how his cell was painted red with his blood.
Ethan held his breath once more for a moment longer. At the same time, he didn't want to get his hopes up. Bela may have treated him the least brutally thus far, but that didn't change things. She still wanted to use him as blood-cattle. He was there as their food supply. She could just as easily join in on her sisters' feeding session. He didn't have much blood left to bleed, but that probably wouldn't stop her from getting the last few drops. Hell, she was probably pissed that they started without her.
"What are you doing to my man-thing?!" Bela barked out, "Get your hands off. Both of you!"
Ethan finally let out the sigh of relief.
Daniela scooted a few inches away from him and Cassandra. She gave her back to the stone wall and hugged her knees while avoiding Bela's simmering glare. Cassandra remained where she was, knife pressed to Ethan's remaining ring finger. Bela took a step closer to the cell door, her small but sturdy frame shaking in anger. "I told you not to harm him! You always do this, Cassandra!"
Bela with her dark dress, ominously billowing robe, shining oil lantern, and blood-smeared face, honestly looked like a goddamn angel in that moment.
"If you keep tormenting him like this, you are going to ruin his taste!" Bela chided her sisters.
Right. Not a goddamn angel.
Still a bloodthirsty witch. Just happens to be the least batshit insane one.
"You're no fun at all, Bela." Cassandra's gaze tightened right back at her sister.
"Cassandra, if you keep torturing him with your filthy blades, he is going to catch an infection," Bela gesticulated towards the mangled mess of his right arm. "You will taint his blood – spoil it for all of us!"
"Mother said to share," Cassandra argued back. The knife remained firm against the skin of his knuckles as she spoke. "You would not share him, so we came for him ourselves."
"There will be nothing left to share if you keep ripping him open! Our catches never last long once you get your claws on them."
Ethan could only meekly turn his head back and forth as the argument carried on. Daniela similarly pressed herself into the wall, trying not to be noticed by either of her siblings.
"You hardly ever let us get a taste of their flesh when you get them."
A harsh scoff, and Bela replied, "Would you not rather have a long-lasting supply of sweet, fresh, untainted man-blood whenever you desire?"
"What I desire, sister," Cassandra bared her teeth, "Is to hunt filthy man-creatures down and string them up. Strip them of their flesh and drain them of their blood."
"There is more to life than devouring man-flesh, Cassandra. I know good blood when I see it," Bela's eyes flicked towards him once, before snapping back to her sister. "We are not going to use him up all at once!"
A part of Ethan appreciated Bela standing up to Cassandra. The other part of him just stirred with unease. She didn't care about him, and he would be a fool to even imagine her doing so. Bela simply wanted him to be a prisoner for longer because it was to her advantage. Like he was her personal, premium keg of blood.
Still though. Being a keg of blood at her beck and call meant being alive. It meant more time to get out of here and find Rose. He could appreciate Bela for that.
At least she wouldn't mutilate his arm, nibble his skin, and drain him of blood.
She'd only do the latter.
Very briefly lost in his thoughts, Ethan turned his attention back to the ongoing standoff. Neither Bela nor Cassandra wavered. The blonde witch remained rooted where she stood. Her right hand carried the shimmering oil lantern, while her left was balled into a fist by her side. Her tattooed forehead creased in the ferocious frown turned towards her sister.
From where Ethan lied on the ground, he could only see the tension on Cassandra's face – undoubtedly twisted in an angry scowl right back. She kept her iron grip on his hand, while the knife continued to dig into his finger ever so slightly. It was a small breath of fresh air that her attention wasn't focused on him for once.
Not that it lasted.
In a single vicious swipe, Cassandra severed his ring finger.
The pain kicked in only a second later, when the first drops of blood spurted forth. Ethan was powerless to stop the pained scream this time. He cursed and hissed under his breath, pulling his hand free from the witch. He reeled it in, only for his shackles to stop him halfway. He had no means of stemming the flow.
Cassandra was indifferent to his suffering this time. She slipped the finger between her lips and her form began to shift into a mass of flies.
"But – Cassandra!" Daniela cried out, "You promised I'd get one too!"
The swarm flitted out between the cell bars, knocking into Bela's shoulder in the process. She huffed out a soft grunt and took a step back to catch her balance. "So immature."
"Cassandra!" Daniela called out once more. The fluttering swarm had passed the corner and was long gone now. She turned her pleading eyes to Bela and asked, "Can I get a fing-"
"No."
The redhead looked at her sister for a moment longer. When it was clear Bela's stance was set in stone, Daniela seized Ethan's hand and leaned in. She closed her lips around his profusely bleeding finger stump.
"Jesus Christ," Ethan muttered. He let his head fall back down to the stone floor. He did not care to watch Daniela sucking the blood out of his amputated finger. The stabbing, burning pain was dulled ever so slightly by Daniela's warm mouth.
Ethan heard Bela breathe a deep sigh. The sharp footfalls of her heels led her over to the side of his cell. Ethan limply turned his head to watch her movements. With the lantern shining light on the area, he noted for the first time a large chest propped up against the wall. Bela drew a key from her dress and unlocked the heavy-duty padlock. The sound of metal and glass clinking together filled the mostly silent air. Mostly, since the other sound was Daniela suckling on his finger like a kitten to her mother's teat.
Bela straightened up, carrying a large green bottle of disinfectant, and a rag. The vaguely metallic sound he'd heard as Bela was rummaging may have come from his stashed firearms. That bottle of first aid was, after all, very likely from his bag. It was good to know his confiscated belongings were stored so close by.
Next step was securing the key to his cell door, and then the key to the chest.
No, no. Next step was not dying from blood loss within the next half hour.
Bela unlocked his cell next and stepped in. The lantern was set on the floor, casting its warm glow on the bloody cell and its equally bloody occupants. The disinfectant and the rag were placed down as well, and Bela promptly turned her attention to Ethan's restraints. The chains jingled along while she got to work. The sound was enough to catch Daniela's attention. She opened one eye to peek at her sister.
With her mouth still mostly wrapped around his bleeding nub, she slurred out in question, "Shishter, why are you releashing the man-cweature?"
"I am not releasing him," Bela explained as his legs were released. "I am simply undoing his restraints."
She shifted over to Ethan's left hand and unlocked the manacle. "It is quite redundant chaining the man-thing up when he is already in a cell."
Ethan averted his eyes from his hand. He was sending it the signal to move, but it failed to comply. That gnarly gash at his wrist needed to be tended to. He only hoped his right hand was functional enough to get the job done.
Bela came to a stop by Daniela's side. The latter continued sucking on the nub of his finger, blissfully unaware of her sister by her side.
"Daniela."
Ethan observed Bela's hands coming up to rest by her hips. She glared at her sister and raised her voice.
"Daniela!"
"Just a few more drops," The redhead in question mumbled against his stump.
When the feeding drew on, Bela's voice took a shrill turn. It suddenly dawned on Ethan that Bela must be the eldest sister.
"Daniela Dimitrescu!"
His bleeding stump was released. Daniela pressed his gushing hand to her face and whined, "But he tastes so good!"
"If you wish for his taste to persist, then let go of that hand!"
With a huff, Daniela released Ethan's hand, which hit the ground with a dull thump and a rattle of his chains. She straightened up and took a step back, giving Bela clear access to free his hand. Once more, he tried to move the mangled limb. It complied, but just barely. It raised from the floor, only to come to a stop crossed over his midsection. It gave him a view of his torn sleeves, which were soaked in crimson.
This was not good.
Ethan was growing more and more aware of how cold he was feeling. His skin was clammy. With the addition of light in the cell, he could tell he looked far paler than usual. They'd done a number on him, that much was certain. This was dire, but not unfixable.
The stump of his ring finger spurted blood onto his filthy sweater.
Well, some things were unfixable. If he could just get a hold of that disinfectant –
"Be still."
Ethan was halfway to propping himself up on his one functioning arm. At Bela's stern command, he obliged and slid the arm down so he could lie flat on his back. Her amber eyes roved over him – focusing on his various grisly wounds, cataloging his injuries.
Almost like a medic at a triage center.
If cannibalistic witches passed for medics, and dungeons made for good triage centers.
"Are you going to sew him back together, Bela?" Daniela's curious voice piped up.
"Nothing I haven't done before," Bela muttered.
Ethan hummed to himself at that. The possible deduction to be made here was that he wasn't the first man-thing – man, Ethan corrected himself – that Bela tried to keep alive as long-term blood-cattle. In his blood-loss induced stupor, Ethan wasn't sure just yet what to make of that information. For now, committing it to memory had to do.
With a pair of scissors in hand, Bela snipped a strip of cloth from the rag she'd been carrying earlier. Ethan let out a sharp hiss – the familiar disinfectant was dribbled onto the remaining knuckle of his ring finger. Bela wrapped the cloth around the mangled stump; she applied a fair amount of pressure to stem the bleeding. Even as she did this, Ethan saw her eyes were already analyzing his limp left hand.
"You cannot move that hand." It was more observation than question.
Ethan answered anyway, "Yeah. Lost too much blood, I think."
Bela's eyebrows twitched up once as if to say, "No shit, dude."
"Daniela." Bela's older sister tone was being used. The witch in question knelt down by Ethan's right. Her hungry eyes were set on his hastily bandaged finger. She kept her hands to herself for now.
"Yes, sister?"
"Apply pressure to his finger – do not," Bela wagged her own finger preemptively, "Put it in your mouth."
Daniela closed her parted lips and nodded. That didn't stop her from pouting as she took Ethan's finger from Bela and applied pressure to it. Ethan quickly looked away when Daniela winked at him.
Crazy people.
He was surrounded by crazy people.
After crossing to his other side, Bela took Ethan's limp left hand and set it on her lap. She studied it for a moment before pressing her gloved fingers to the mangled flesh. It had almost completely stopped bleeding now. It was also totally numb by this point, so he hardly felt Bela nudging the flesh back in place as best as she could. A generous helping of disinfectant was poured on next, followed by a tight bandage around the wound.
Briefly, Bela held onto the old bandage of his left hand. Her nose twitched once as if in displeasure. In a nearly inaudible whisper, she muttered to herself, "Change that later."
His hand was set down, and Bela was over to his other side within moments. Daniela scooted over to give her room. She watched with interest as Bela took in the deep lacerations of his right arm. The long, angry cut slowly oozed what little blood Ethan had left.
Bela huffed a frustrated sigh and dribbled more disinfectant along the length of the wound. Ethan cringed at the stinging sensation, breathing in sharply through his teeth. Bela frowned at his reaction. She set the bottle down and placed her hand on his face.
Ethan steadied his breathing as he locked onto Bela's amber eyes. Ethan nearly leaned into her touch when her hand shifted – purposefully inspecting the clotted wound on his cheek.
What little remnants in Ethan's stomach turned.
Day one of captivity – or was it two? He had no way of telling time down here.
So soon and he was already leaning into Bela's hand like a kicked puppy. And all she was doing was scrutinizing the gash on his cheek.
It was absolute insanity that he'd assumed she was trying to offer him some semblance of comfort through her touch.
He was cattle.
He needed to remember that. The only way out of this was by being the smartest goddamn blood-cattle this castle had ever seen.
Some disinfectant was applied to Bela's rag before she dabbed it against his cheek. The soaked rag was pressed to his bloody arm next. Bela nudged Daniela with her shoulder and instructed, "Hold this."
Obediently, Daniela switched places with Bela and applied pressure on his arm. Bela took the time to give his severed finger another look. In the meantime, Daniela was looking him over and taking in his pitiful self.
"Poor man-thing," Daniela giggled, "Doesn't he look so cute when he is in pain?"
"Fuck off." It was all Ethan could grumble in reply.
Bela ignored her sister's remark in favor of staring at his nub. The flesh had healed over and stopped bleeding. It wasn't a pretty sight, but the skin had still fused over to look almost good as new. Clean off the dried blood and it might just pass for a clean amputation.
"Sister, you've had your fill," Bela stared at Ethan's finger while addressing Daniela. "Could you go check on Cassandra? She is being more difficult and aggressive than usual."
Daniela turned to give Bela a coy look. "Be honest with me, sister. You just want the man-thing all to yourself."
"If I drank any more blood from this man," Bela gestured to him as she spoke, "I am certain he would not be long for this world. We do not want to let such good blood go to waste, do we?"
Daniela's head tilted a fraction, dubious eyes squinting at her sibling.
"Go." Bela's big sister voice made a return.
"Hmph," Daniela took her hands off the bandage on Ethan's arm. "Fine."
A meaty slap echoed off the cell walls. Daniela had given Bela's rear a firm smack on the way out. "I'll see you soon, sister."
Bela levelled what could only be described as a fond glare at her sister, who then gave Ethan a flirtatious wave. "You as well, man-creature!"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Ethan grumbled back.
Within moments, Daniela morphed into a swarm and disappeared around the corner and into parts unknown.
"Your finger is no longer bleeding," Bela wasted no time voicing her observation.
"Yeah, well – maybe you freaks drank all that's left to drink." With his major wounds beginning to seal and close, Ethan was feeling a semblance of strength returning to him. The blinding pain had simmered down now. In its place was a dull ache. Joining it was his sass.
Bela's giggle was a sharp contrast to that of her sisters. So much less sinister. It still made his pale, clammy skin crawl – just nowhere nearly as bad as Cassandra made him feel.
"I was beginning to worry you had lost that sharp tongue of yours."
"No such luck," Ethan muttered as he looked towards his left hand. He flexed his fingers experimentally. Each and every tendon involved in the movement felt sluggish and slow. Control had been restored, regardless.
Bela held pressure over his bandaged right arm for a while longer as she asked, "Did you enjoy your bonding time with my sisters?"
"Fuck. No."
Another giggle, but this time less amused. Ethan craned his head to see Bela's smile looking rather flat as she peeled back the bandage. It revealed his mended skin. A long, jagged white line ran from the inside of his elbow all the way to his wrist. All the dried blood aside, the scar looked as though it was months old.
"My, my," Bela remarked, "Mother said you were special, Ethan Winters. It appears she was correct."
"Yeah, she did, didn't she?" Ethan asked rhetorically. He watched Bela cross over to his other side to check on the last bandage. "Starting to wish I wasn't. Maybe then I wouldn't be here in a fucking dungeon with-"
Ethan had to pointedly count the remaining fingers he had.
"Seven fingers." He paused to take a breath. "I had eight fingers just last night. Not long ago, I had ten."
Bela ignored Ethan's anguish in favor of peeling off his bandaged wrist. No surprises when the flesh had mended over to a rough scar. She set his hand on her lap and began peeling off the filthy bandage he'd applied after his run in with the lycans.
"Shit – Bela, how much time passed since I was knocked out anyway?"
Bela poked and prodded at the gnarled remains of his left hand. A good chunk of meat at the side, along with his entire pinky was gone. The ring finger matched that of his right hand, with a small nub remaining relatively unscathed. Ethan's heart gave a small twirl at the sight of his wedding ring still snugly in place.
The term healed over didn't quite capture how rough and twisted the remains of his hand looked. But it was, again, mostly intact and had long since stopped bleeding.
Finally, Bela answered, "About six hours. I must admit, I did not expect you to be conscious by now. Well," Bela giggled slightly, "I did not expect to find my sisters feeding on you either, but…" Bela's shoulders bobbed with a nonchalant shrug.
The carelessness of her demeanor set something off within Ethan. Perhaps he was just thoroughly tired of all the shit he'd endured at this point. He needed a release for all the pent-up anger, pain, and suffering.
"What – you're shrugging at me?" Ethan glowered at Bela, "I just got carved like a prime rib and sipped up like a fucking Capri Sun and that's all you've got?"
Bela raised her brows in an appalled manner. She pressed a dainty hand to her collarbone, fingers grazing over the red pendant around her neck.
"That's all you have to give me after that? A fucking shrug?" Ethan repeated.
He refused to acknowledge the fact she had applied first aid to all his wounds – that she had been willing to stitch up all his lacerations if need be.
None of that fucking counted when the end goal was just to prolong his suffering from hours to days to weeks to goddamn months.
Bela rolled her eyes as she picked up the discarded rag from earlier. She wrung it once before applying another generous dose of disinfectant to it. With a deep sigh, she pressed the cloth to his wrist and began cleaning off the dried blood.
"Make no mistake, man-thing," Bela's tone bordered on disgust as she rubbed the cloth against his skin until it was good as new. "I am not your friend."
Ethan gritted his teeth as he watched her cross over to his other side. Bela knelt down and – in contrast to her callous words – gently picked up his hand to set it on her lap.
"I am not your protector. I am not here to save you from my sisters." The scissors from earlier snipped away at his ruined, blood-soaked sleeve. The fabric fell away with a wet squish. His arm felt much warmer without the sticky fabric clinging to it.
The brief flare in his temper was beginning to settle down as he watched Bela clean his arm.
"You are my prey, Ethan." Bela rolled his name out slowly in that peculiar way of hers – as if still unaccustomed to the sound of it. The statement also had an air of finality to it. She had nothing more to say on the matter. The boundaries were drawn quite clearly.
Ethan was all out of fight for now as well. The bleeding may have stopped, but he was still dangerously low on blood. If he even attempted to stand up, it was almost a guarantee that his legs would buckle in seconds. He may even give himself a concussion smacking his head on the floor on the way down.
He was getting terribly lightheaded as well. His skin had grown no less clammy and sweaty in the minutes that passed since the cuts had sealed. Now that the adrenaline was subsiding in full, it was becoming exceedingly difficult to keep his eyes open. Unconsciousness wasn't far away at this rate.
Bela placed his hand over his midsection and straightened up. She dusted off her dress, tsk-ing under her breath at the filthy state it had wound up in. The stray tools on the floor were collected, along with the bottle of disinfectant and the bloody rag. She stepped past the still-lit oil lantern and through the open cell door.
Ethan's cell looked different in the light. He ignored the fresh pools of blood and vomit around him in favor of the relatively high ceiling. A glance around him revealed it was more spacious than it seemed in the pitch darkness. The lantern was a breath of fresh air.
The cell door locked with a click. Bela then placed the rag and the disinfectant bottle on top of the chest – for ease of access, probably – then locked that as well. Her heels clacked on the stone floor as she prepared to take her leave without so much as a glance his way.
The words came out of Ethan's mouth before he could really think twice about it. "You forgot your lamp."
The blonde witch paused before she could round the corner. She placed a hand on the wall to look at him, and then the lamp. Her weight shifted from one foot to the other, hip swaying to one side. A small smile made its way to her face as she regarded him.
Then, a soft laugh. Not sinister or cruel. Just amused.
"I thought you preferred the light, Ethan."
Ethan glanced once at the long-forgotten flashlight towards one side of the cell. The battery had died while he was unconscious earlier. This lantern was his only light source in this decrepit dungeon.
When he didn't reply, Bela tilted her head and took a step towards the door. With a mischievous smile, she asked, "Unless, you would prefer I take that away?"
"No," Ethan was quick to respond, "That won't be necessary."
Bela's giggling filled the halls once more. She smiled at him ear-to-ear and then waved. "I'll be seeing you again soon, Ethan."
With astonishing speed (as usual), Bela morphed into a dark cloud of flies and disappeared from view.
Ethan allowed his heavy eyelids to close.
He hated to admit it, but if he had to see one of them again soon, he would prefer it be Bela. At least there was no mistaking it now. Among the sisters, she was the sanest. She hurt him the least. Despite what she'd said, she did in fact save him from Cassandra and Daniela's (but mostly Cassandra's) clutches. Him being alive and breathing was in their mutual interest, at least for now. He needed to make that count.
How he would be doing that was a problem for when he woke up later. For now, he could succumb to unconsciousness amidst the shivers rocking his body, and the light pounding in his head.
Ethan only hoped he wouldn't wake up to more shackles and torture.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed, make sure to leave a review, fave, follow, all that good shit! It's a joy writing Bela, and as you'll see, I bring more and more of her to the coming chapters. This one was more Daniel and Cassandra-centric to establish the sharp contrast to Bela. Cassandra's pretty antagonistic for now, and we'll get peeks here and there into the inner machinations of her mind. I also had lots of fun writing Daniela. Aside from being the flirtier one, I liked the idea that she sort of switches roles/personalities depending on which sister she's with. Alongside Cassandra, her violent, sadistic tendencies come out. With Bela, she's less eager to tear your wrist open unprompted, and acts like an obedient but playful younger sister. I also, for some reason, like the idea of Daniela having cat-like traits. Probably gonna have more than that. And of course, Bela to the rescue at the end! How far will she go to ensure Ethan's high quality blood remains untainted? We'll see soon. I'll catch you all at the next one. Have a good one!
