Chapter 14
Tamsin found herself trapped in heavy, thick darkness. In between, she'd have flashes of consciousness.
The most overwhelming and pronounced thing of all, was the excruciating pain. She was slapped, punched and stabbed repeatedly. It felt as if her bones were being crushed one by one, as if her flesh was being torn off piece by piece.
She saw blood, her own blood, in her eyes, on her skin, and pooling on the floor. She tasted it in her mouth and in the back of her throat. She heard it dripping and gushing.
The floor, the cold, rough surface of dark gray stones, was coated in dirt, mold and stains, stains of different shades of crimson.
Besides her own blood, she could also smell a lot of things: the musty corner of the small, dark room she was in, the rotten straw on and under the wooden bench by the wall, the rusty chains around her wrists and ankles, the burning coal in the small stove beside her, the red hot metal tools placed on the coal and her own scorched flesh.
Among those things, she also noticed a hint of cologne, expensive cologne, which…seemed really out of place.
She heard voices. She heard someone asking her questions, with the most frequent one being "where is it".
Where is what? She wondered as she stared at the stone that was right under her left foot. The stone had a crack, about one tenth of an inch wide, into where her blood seeped.
"Where is what?" She asked.
The other person said something, but it was impossible for her to comprehend, for her ears were ringing, for her brain was overloaded by pain.
She struggled to concentrate, focusing on whatever those people were asking. All she could grasp were words, isolated words, like "device", "raven", "war" and "Verthandi". She understood them individually, but she failed to make a connection.
Then, there was a brief flash of light. Sounds poured into her ears, into her brain. She tried to take a look at the person who was talking to her, but all she could make out through her bloodied vision was a vague silhouette.
The next thing she knew was that she was being forced to drink something. It wasn't water, or any other drinks she had ever had. It felt like flames down her throat, and it rested in her stomach like ice.
Whatever it was, it made her pass out again.
At some point, she felt a warm hand on her cheek. She heard a soft whisper. She was taken into a firm embrace. But, was any of those even real?
"...pancake mix…not how you…make pancakes…" those words, those phrases, came to her from afar. That voice sounded awfully familiar.
Someone else then said something, which sounded like a retort. That voice was familiar too, so familiar that it tickled her heart softly.
She really wanted to know who was talking. With all the strength she had, she pried her eyes open for a brief moment.
No one was around, but she did find a large animal lying beside her. The animal's dark fur was tousled, and he smelled like blood, mold and pain. That smell reminded her of the small, dark torture room she had been in, and she shuddered.
The darkness took her again, kicking her back to that torture room, to that soul crushing pain.
"Where is the device?" A man's voice came to her, along with his cologne. Like the cologne, his voice was soft, but at the same, it chilled her to the bones.
"I have no idea what you are talking about," she replied, practically forcing each word through her clenched teeth. She tried to make out his face, but could barely see anything, for the blood coming out from the wound on her head covered her eyes.
"The raven, have you seen it?" Another voice pressured. It sounded both like a woman and a bird.
Raven. She pondered that word. Raven is a type of large, black bird.
Of course she had seen ravens before. She had seen many. She was from the Verthandi family. For centuries, the Verthandi family had been residing in the deep mountains in the far north, where acres and acres of solemn pines stood silently in the thick snow, where the creeks and streams whispered and whimpered underneath sheets of ice, where frost fell off the tails of horse they rode, where eagles, ravens and many other birds soared….
"Have you seen that raven?" The same voice came to her again.
Okay, so it has to be a specific raven. Tamsin thought to herself. How the hell would I know which raven is "that raven"?
"Have you seen it?!" The voice exclaimed impatiently.
"Did you take something from that raven? Did it give you what it was carrying?" The first voice, the man, asked.
Why the hell would I take anything from a raven? What would a raven possibly be carrying? Tamsin wondered. A broken twig? A small rock? A flower? A prey?
No…no…it wasn't any of those things. The raven…it was carrying something…a glimmer…it was carrying a glimmer…what does that even mean….
Consumed by pain and fear, she blacked out again, until the smell of melted cheese and pepperoni awakened her.
She could practically taste the stringy cheese and the sizzling pepperoni slices now. The pizza sauce coated her tongue.
"Why isn't there pineapple?" Someone grunted.
"Over my dead body!" Someone else hissed. Then, after a brief pause, that voice exclaimed, "whoo…fresh brownies!"
Is this supposed to be some kind of torturing method? Tamsin wondered as she held on to the delicious smell. She couldn't even remember when was the last time she had eaten anything. Every part of her screamed for a slice of freshly baked pizza and maybe…a box of dry rub garlic parmesan wings that was just taken out of the oven. Oh how great it would be if she could also have a cold beer with all that…wait, maybe she shouldn't be asking for too much…water would do…just plain cold water would do, and it better had some ice in it to keep it really, really cold….
Torn by the memories of being tortured, the pain, her hunger and the urge to wake up, she surrendered to the darkness again.
Opening her eyes slowly, Tamsin stared blankly at the popcorn ceiling. This is so out of style. She thought.
She noticed that her vision was no longer red, and she was in a soft bed. She still felt pain everywhere, but it seemed…less overwhelming.
She turned her head slightly. Entered her vision were chipped walls and mismatched, old furniture. Everything she saw seemed to be a flip flop between extreme boho style and junkyard find.
It took her a while to notice the soft, sweet scent that was all over the sheets. She recognized that scent. She knew that scent. It comforted her, but at the same time, it made her nervous.
Closing her sore eyes, she took a deep breath and buried her nose into the blanket.
Was this another dream of hers?
Flashes of thoughts, memories and visions crashed into her mind.
She had been captured. For days, or maybe weeks, she had been locked up in a dark, filthy dungeon. There, she was interrogated. When she had refused to answer those questions, or rather, when she had explained that she did not know the answer, she had been tortured.
When she thought of those questions, she was suddenly back in the torture room again. It was dark, dark like no light had ever touched that place. The smell made her gag.
She was chained to a chair. There was a pot of burning coals. Also in the pot were red hot torturing devices made with demonic metal.
Sometimes, there was only one interrogator. Other times, there were more than one. They kept asking her the same questions over and over, while stabbing and hurting her with those torturing devices.
They were convinced that she had seen a certain raven, and that she had taken something from that raven. They wanted to know where that something was.
It took her a while to understand what that something was. It was a device. That raven had carried a device that they were looking for, and they thought she had it.
She had not the slightest idea of what they were referring to. She had no idea what the device was. She didn't know which raven they were talking about either.
She had seen many ravens, so many ravens. There was a flock of them that would frequent the Verthandi longhouse. Those birds practically made the beams in the longhouse their home.
She remembered her great grandmother, the High Priestess of the Verthandi family, telling her that some of the ravens were older than her.
When was that exactly? Had it been four, or five hundred years? Or maybe even more than that? Surely, it was long before the war….
Her great grandmother…the old lady who wore a white and brown robe, who adorned her hair with gemstones, beads and an antler. She was a woman of power, a woman of wisdom and a woman of foresight….
A raven, her great grandmother, something that the raven might be carrying….
In darkness and pain, she tried to connect the dots. She tried to figure out what could possibly be the connection between an unknown device, a mysterious raven and her lineage.
She forced herself to dig deeper into her memories, into those long lost moments of her childhood, into the snowy forests and the frozen lakes that she had called home….
Back then she was still young and innocent. It was long before her ascendance. It was when her great grandmother was still alive.
Being a High Priestess, her great grandmother was so busy that Tamsin didn't get to spend time with her often. Whenever the old lady had time, though, she would sing to her, to all the kids in the family. The songs she sang were sagas, legends and lores about brave warriors, winged horses, and ice giants. They were about the rainbow bridge, the sea serpent, and old Gods….
She would also teach them to read, not just the language they spoke, but the languages their ancestors had spoken, and the languages that had been dead long ago….
"My place of hiding is revealed…" Tamsin muttered vaguely as she regained her consciousness for a short moment.
"The Abyss is thy name…four million, six hundred and one thousand and two hundred spirits…I have opened every way in Heaven and in Hell. I am yesterday, today and tomorrow…I have the power…I have the power to…."
"...Tamsin, Tamsin…." Someone called her name softly.
Tamsin panted with her eyes closed, as she was trapped in her old, distant memories, where she was sitting beside the fire pit in the longhouse, where the stars glittered and the flames flickered, where her great grandmother read with her….
"I have come there…in triumph…" Tamsin recited in weak mutters. "...in the hall of the…the seven come in the manifestations…I am the only one…I am the…."
She trailed off, slipping back to the deepest, vaguest memories of her own, where everything had been turned into a white void by the heavy snowfall.
Someone was there. Someone was standing there….
"Tamsin," her great grandmother called as she turned to her.
The old lady was standing in the snow. She had her right arm reached out. Rested on her forearm was a large raven.
Noticing her presence, the raven tilted its head and made eye contact with Tamsin. It stared at her, as if it was trying to figure her out.
Somehow, she suddenly knew. This must be the raven. It must be what those interrogators were looking for.
The device. Right, the device. The raven was supposed to be carrying a device.
What kind of device, though?
Tamsin searched in her memory. Her great grandmother, the raven, a device….
Wait…what was that thing between his beak? What was that thing that glittered?
When Tamsin managed to pry her eyes open a tiny crack for the second time, the first thing she saw was the furry face of a hellhound and his sniffing nose. He no longer smelled like the dark dungeon. Now, he smelled like flea shampoo and pizza.
"Sooo…when is she gonna die?" The hellhound asked hesitantly as he took another whiff of Tamsin, as if her smell would answer his question. He was so close that his nose was almost touching Tamsin's.
"She's not gonna die!" Bo replied as she rushed over. She had one hand holding her kimono together and with the other hand she grabbed the back of the hound's neck. She dragged him away from Tamsin and shooed him off the bed. "We…made her drink all the…whatever serum that cures Angels, didn't we? And that serum should cure her, right?"
"Hmmm…" Bilith's lazy voice came as he sat on the pillow. He tapped Tamsin's face and her nose repeatedly with his paw. "She should have awakened by now."
Bo let out a frustrated sigh. "Well…maybe we should take her to a hospital or something?"
"Yeah, sure, a hospital, what are you gonna tell the humans there, hmmm? Hey could you take a look at this Angel who has been tortured by my dad? Oh he's the King of Hell by the way."
"I mean, an Angel hospital, or whatever it is called."
"Angels don't have hospitals," the hound muttered. "Heaven's glory heals them automatically."
"Then why isn't that damn glory working on her?"
"Well ya gotta be in Heaven and…ya can't be fallen. It's a whole benefit package that only employees get to have," the hound shrugged. "This one's no longer on Heaven's payroll."
"Well, there's gotta be something else we can try?"
"There's not really any. Besides, why do we even care if an Angel lives or dies?"
"Because I care, Vug!" Bo exclaimed as she flicked the hound's forehead. Then she shoved Bilith off the bed because her feline friend kept pawing Tamsin. She let out another sigh as she held Tamsin's hand and squeezed it gently.
Tamsin thought this would be a good time for her to chime in, but she couldn't get a word out, for her throat was too dry.
Using all the strength she had, she squeezed Bo's hand weakly.
Startled, Bo turned to her. She gaped at Tamsin's half open eyes for a long time, before she eventually let out a big, relieved smile.
"Hey…" she placed the back of her index finger on Tamsin's cheek and gently ran it along the side of her face. "Look who's awake."
"Oh bummer…" the hellhound grunted, and got a cold glare from Bo.
"The two of you, out!" Bo ordered as she pointed at the door.
"What did I do?" Bilith complained.
"Just…give us a minute, okay?" Bo pleaded.
"Fine…" Bilith drawled before he headed out.
"I call dibs on the leftover pizza!" The hellhound announced and rushed downstairs.
"You can't just call dibs like that!"
"Yeah I can. That's exactly how dibs are called."
The two of them made their ways downstairs noisily while bickering.
Bo shook her head and closed the door. Then, she came back to the bedside and asked, "how do you feel?"
Tamsin closed her eyes and swallowed a few times, before she replied, "I'm…fine."
"Right…you call this fine?" Bo snorted as she lifted the blanket that Tamsin was under, revealing all the fresh wounds over her body. Some of them still oozed blood.
"I'll live."
Bo sighed as she sat down by the bed. She stared at Tamsin's face for a while in silence. She was smiling but her eyes brimmed with tears.
Tamsin took a deep breath as she reached to cradle Bo's face with her right hand. Bo put her hand on hers and closed her eyes.
She recalled the last conversation she had had with Bo. She wondered if she should explain herself, apologize or pretend that that conversation had not happened. She had a million things that she wanted to say, ask or whisper, but at the same time, it seemed that saying anything right now would be unnecessary.
She pulled herself up despite her pain. With both of her hands, she cupped Bo's face. She leaned in and put her forehead on Bo's.
The brunette was shivering hard, and so was her.
After having had some food and drinks, Tamsin decided that she should take a shower. With Bo's help, she got herself into the bathroom.
Putting her hands on the wall, she arched her back a little as the hot water hit her skin. "You know…the Soviet Union's maximum security prison had better shower rooms, right?"
"Well…" Bo murmured as she looked at her own shower. It wasn't a shower room, nor was it enclosed. The shower head was all it had, and the toilet was just two feet away. "At least in my shower there's hot water and…hmmm…me."
"Ugh huh…" Tamsin hummed as she closed her eyes. She let Bo put shampoo in her hair. As the brunette massaged her scalp gently, she let out a soft moan.
As the hot water rinsed off all the bubbles in her hair and on her face, she inhaled the steamy air. The memories of being tortured and in pain seemed so far away now.
Bo helped her lather her body with her citrus scented body wash. After she had rinsed away all the grime of the dark dungeon, the blood and the pain, she slowly ran her fingers along each and every of Tamsin's wounds and scars.
She touched them gently, so gently that it was as if she was afraid of hurting her.
Tamsin flinched a little when Bo's fingers finally reached the back of her shoulders, where her largest scar was, where once her skin and flesh had been ripped off.
Bo caressed every inch of that scar. And Tamsin let her.
A/N: I won't be posting any updates next weekend, for I'm travelling to a Labor Day weekend comicon.