Secrets of Ravenstone: Keeper of La Tecla (The Key) Book One
ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟚

Entering the doors, we didn’t have the chance to look around, when we all heard the van outside, make a swift U-turn; it left a trail of exhaust fumes behind it. Feeling a sense of abandonment, being discarded and unwanted, we lept off the old steps, standing in the street, shouting after them but Marxus didn’t stop. Panicking, screaming and cursing, unfortunately, we were drawing more attention to ourselves that we didn’t need, as curious faces peeked through their broken windows and doorways.

“I don’t like this at all!” I groaned in complaint, running my fingers through my hair.

“He said he’s coming back for us!” Sarah squealed.

Jonathan said nothing, holding her close.

Huffing, feeling the steam starting to rise, I felt a hand grip my shoulder. Turning around, I looked at Anthony, feeling his gentle and comforting touch. Afraid and worried, I leaned into his quick embrace.

“Hey, Yza…” Erik turned to her, “it’ll be all right.”

“I hope so, but it’s not just us I’m worried about.” I rasped, “I am more worried about Zanzabarr, he doesn’t know them, not enough to listen to them at least, so what if he breaks free and pulls off his muzzle, tearing them apart?” I feared, “I’ll be Keeper quicker than I thought, and we’ll still be stuck here.”

“We need to stay calm, that’s what we need to do.” Anthony managed to keep his calm demeanor, even under the pressure they were all in. Gently cupping her face in his hands, he said softly, looking in her dark eyes through her glasses, “Thomas will make sure they return, but right now, we need to get off the street and inside. Find ourselves somewhere to sit, hmm?” he raised his gaze, studying everyone around him, “They’ll be back, they’ll be back.” he growled impatiently.

“Would all of you stop grunting and growling?” Sarah feared, referring to the Demons and Lycynian, “They’re watching us, look!” she glanced around quickly.

Taking in our surroundings, she was right. Nodding quickly, taking deep breaths, we rushed up the steps, entering the old tavern a second time. But in the back of their minds, each and every one of them, couldn’t help but wonder if Marxus had, in some way, secretly planned all of this, putting all of their lives in danger, and for what? If this was training, I wanted no part in it, neither did anyone else, but there were Demons, a Lycynian, a ditsy Sarah and hot-tempered half-breed Latina, let’s hope those origins remained hidden.

What could possibly go wrong, right? Well, let’s just say that everything that COULD happen? Did.

Looking around, a musty odor greeted us, causing everyone in our party to grimace in utter disgust. There were ten men sitting at a large table to our right, loudly and boisterously laughing, smoking and playing a game of cards. Waving our hands in front of our faces, in an attempt to clear the air of the smoke, we let out a few coughs in the process. If Nathan were here, it wouldn’t have bothered him.

The men laughed, then ceased, each looking toward the door, watching as three men and two women stood looking around. Eyeing them up and down, their gaze made the strangers feel uncomfortable but then they looked away, losing interest as they turned, returning to their card game.

There was a long counter-bar to the left of the cramped room, stretching halfway down the side of the wall; people sat on the stools, drinking heavily, or leaned forward on the counter, passed out from too much drink. Glancing across the rest of the tavern, there were tables of different sizes scattered about, with chairs that didn’t match the sets, and in the far corner in a niche hidden in the shadows, was a large circular booth-like table.

“Over there.” Anthony gestured toward the table. His wide, dark eyes, looked around at the source of light; candles were placed on the counter, window shelves, on a few of the tables, even set in an old rusting chandelier that hung rather low above their heads.

“Ew.” I moaned, for there were cobwebs hanging in corners, beneath the chairs and tables, while rain dripped from holes in the roof, falling into pots and buckets scattered around in certain places. Knowing how heavily it rained, I worried and hoped that Marxus and Thomas wouldn’t be delayed in their return. Shuffling closer to Erik, I almost shrieked loudly, as a giant spider crawled out from beneath one of the chairs.

“Shh…” he whispered to her, wrapping his arm around her.

“Let’s take that table back there.” Anthony affirmed again, “It is out of the way, so hopefully we won’t be harassed there.” he looked behind him toward the fearful faces staring at him, “Just remember what Marxus told us, hmm?” he looked down at her.

“Would you please stop looking at me like that? I’ll be quiet.” I protested telepathically, knowing the Italian could hear me.

Making our way through the maze of tables and buckets, ignoring the deep grunts and MMMs from the men at the table, the five of us stayed close to each other and once we reached the table that looked to have seen better days, we were thankful that we weren’t close to the men near the door, smelling the cigarette smoke. The circular booth-like table had a bench that curved around it, and who sat in what order, it didn’t matter.

“Sarah, Yzavela…you sit with Jonathan and Erik along the bench, I’ll grab one of the chairs.” Anthony advised softly. As he turned, pulling one of the chairs forward, the two young women slid along the bench inching closer to Jonathan and Erik, and once he sat close to the table, we sat quietly with all of our heads held low, trying not to draw attention.

My eyes searched beneath the table, making sure there were no spiders or other insects that would make a creepy-crawly surprise.

Ten minutes passed, and the barkeeper paced behind the bar, watching as the five strangers sat quietly with their heads low. Frowning, he groaned, then veered around the counter, making his way toward them in heavy, eerie stomps, wiping his hands on his apron that was stained with food, dirt, and god only knows what else. Standing behind the man sitting in the chair, he boomed, rasping his words in a deep and gruff Scottish accent, but seemed to miss a few words in between,

“You going to order, make it worth payment?” his squinting brown eyes scanned all of their faces, “You cause enough loud ruckus outside, you disturbed our people.”

“Apologies for that.” Anthony replied elegantly, as he slowly turned in the chair that creaked from his weight, “But we will just have water, thank you. Since we have already eaten this morning, I think it would be too much trouble.” he grinned, “And we’re just, uh…” he scratched his chin, “waiting for our comrades to return.”

“Perhaps you too much trouble for ’em then, eh? Fancy man!” the man groaned, turning around, returning to the bar for their drinks.

“Fancy man?” Anthony complained under his breath.

“It’s your cologne and pretty smile.” Erik mocked.

“Erik, stop it.” I pinched his arm, “Leave him alone.” I leered at him and his mood toward the Italian that has done nothing to receive such disrespect. Looking away, shifting in my seat, it became a little rickety moments before it completely, and loudly, collapsed from my weight. Falling, landing hard on the floor among the broken wooden planks, dust and cobwebs flew into the air. Glancing at the ground and debris, I could have sworn I saw spiders scampering away from the sudden disturbance, “Yeah you run, you eight-legged little f*ckers!”

The men sitting at the table, lowered their cards, all staring in their direction, watching as the young men and women had become an annoyance to their town. Glancing toward the bar, making eye contact with the barkeeper, the man nodded then turned, continuing to prepare their drinks.

Erik quickly rushed to his feet, helping her from the ground. Waving away the dust caused by the chair hitting the floor, he tried containing a small chuckle through a cough, asking softly,

“Are you okay?”

“Never better.” I snapped sarcastically.

“With everything as old as it is, I’m surprised this building…” Sarah looked around nervously, “hasn’t blown away in the wind.”

“Right?” Jonathan grinned.

“Whatever.” I groaned, dusting the dirt, dust and webs off my pants, then glancing around the room, I watched as all eyes were focused in our direction, “Sh*t.” I cursed softly, “So much for not drawing attention, huh?”

Anthony reached over, grabbing another chair that was more stable, giving me his seat next to him.

“Thank you.” I smiled.

“Anytime.” he smiled.

“Where are those drinks?” Sarah’s squeaked, looking toward the counter where the man paced, “Can’t possibly take forever to serve five bloody drinks.”

“Shh…” Jonathan placed a finger to her lips, “shh.”

The aforementioned barkeeper grabbed two metal cups that were just rinsed out, a glass that held another drink he had just poured out, and two wooden cups that were dusty on the shelf in front of him. Turning to a pump on the wall nearby, he pulled down on the lever three times releasing pressure; he watched as yellow, unfiltered and cloudy water poured into the cups and glass with tiny pieces of unknown debris slowly floating in the swirling liquid, before settling on the bottom. He kept glancing back at the table, frowning deeply.

Sitting there, trying not to make it obvious that I inspected the tavern, I kept my words to myself but reached out to the others telepathically,

“I’m not getting a good feeling about this.” I bit my lip, then I looked at Erik and Jonathan, knowing they could hear me, “Is it just me, or are you picking up on the men’s thoughts too?”

“Which ones? The men at the table or the barkeeper?” Erik leaned forward, carefully resting his elbows on the ledge.

“The barkeeper.” I argued, gently slamming my hands on the table, hearing it creak loudly, “Oops.” I pulled my hands away, placing them in my lap.

Both Jonathan and Erik inconspicuously turned, glancing over their shoulders before their eyes scanned the rest of the tavern; the two Demons listened in, hearing their thoughts that echoed loudly.

“Ruckus. They disturb with ruckus and noise, but it seems we have juicy bugs caught in our webs. Pretty men that can, and will, make our women pregnant, while the two birds will be used for breeding. The Elders must know of this.”

“Oh geez, what the f*ck?” Jonathan complained, widening his blue eyes. Looking at Erik and Yzavela, he knew they too, had heard the unsettling thoughts.

“We should tell Anthony and Sarah.” Erik nodded.

“Agreed.” I said, then turned to Sarah, tapping my right hand against my temple, letting her know that I was going to talk to her telepathically. Receiving a nod, before speaking to her, I glanced at Jonathan who followed the same actions with Anthony, and once the information was relayed, both Sarah and Anthony sat silently, gulping deeply, with fear in their blue and brown eyes.

“Bloody hell, we’re going to die.” Sarah whimpered.

“Sh*t.” Anthony cursed, “I’m too lean to eat.”

“All the better.” I teased.

Glancing across the room, the barkeeper approached; the man carried a tray with the cups and glass filled to the top, almost overflowing the rims. Clearing my throat, quickly alerting my friends of his approach, we leaned back, sitting quietly as he practically threw the tray on the table, spilling the drinks on the edge of our hands, table’s surface and onto the floor.

“Hey, watch it you backwoods h-hills have eyes person!” I blurted them immediately placed my hands over my mouth, keeping me from saying anything else, “Sh*t.” the word escaped my lips beneath my hands. Closing my eyes, I knew we were f*cked.

“Oh…” Erik closed his eyes, “there she goes.”

The barkeeper glared at her, saying nothing.

“Yza…no.” Erik’s voice pleaded telepathically. Looking at her, did the half-breed listen to him? No.

“Are you sure you young-ins won’t have meal?” the barkeeper bolstered in broken slurs, ignoring her outburst, “All we have is stew, I afraid. Freshly made from meat just tenderized this morning.”

“N-no, we’re fine. Thank you.” Jonathan softly declined.

“Freshly tenderized?” Sarah squeaked, burying her face.

“Thank you for the offer nonetheless, but no.” Anthony spoke, “We already ate a large breakfast, as mentioned before.” then he laid five silver coins on the table, “But do you have any…” he shrugged, “bread, cheese and coffee? Can’t go wrong with that, eh?” he attempted a joke.

“No!” the barkeeper rudely snatched the payment off the table, “We do not have bread, cheeses and coffee? What coffee?” he wondered, then shook his head, turning away. As he studied the silver coins of highly polished silver, he raised both of his pale eyebrows, wondering if they carried more treasure such as those coins. Glancing back, he had sinister intentions.

“Of course you can go wrong with bread, cheese and coffee!” Jonathan mocked, leaning in, “Especially in a place like this, let’s see…molded, molded and probably brewed from piss.” he glared at Anthony who growled, flashing an agreeing grin.

“Aye, piss.” the Italian nodded, then glancing at the cups of water, seeing debris floating along the surface and crawling on the bottom, he gently pushed the tray away from him, “Do any of you have bottled water?”

“We left our bags in the van, remember?” I rasped, leaning in.

“Ah, that’s right.” he frowned, “Damn.”

“I’m not drinking that, not even if I died of thirst.” I gulped.

The barkeeper was returning to the table when he overheard one of the young women mutter softly something about the stew having rats, then complaining about the horrible smell in the air.

“Sarah!” Jonathan placed his hand over her mouth, “Stop it.”

“She’s right.” I wiggled my nose, as if I were Samantha from BEWITCHED, then quickly I pinched my nose, “Oh god…” I closed my eyes.

The barkeeper rushed toward the table, slamming his hands, causing the cups and tray to bounce in place. And up close, he smelled horribly of body odor and sour breath. He must have been an inch shorter than Erik with a burly, but stout build, receding hairline that was greasy and swept back, tied in a thin ponytail. Scruff grew around his chubby chin and small mouth, which revealed yellowed teeth with a few that were missing along the front. He chewed on something that was not gum, smacking unsettingly. As mentioned before, his stained apron was worn over his dirty white shirt with one of his sleeves rolled up and baggy pants that desperately needed a belt to hold them up. His hands were filthy, and covered in dirt and a sticky film, with whatever else crusted beneath his cracked fingernails.

I felt sorry for his wife, if he had one.

Glancing back and forth between the two young women, his eyes scanned their fearful faces, before he ordered in a rude, but loud tone, missing words with broken speech.

“Even though I against it, I allow the older man let you stay here til he returns, but this is what I gets?” he slammed on the table once more, “Which you young ladies inthulted my sthew, hmm? You don’t know what you missing with fresh meat of good kind, and it ain’t rat!” he squinted, making the bold emphasis.

The three men looked at Sarah and Yzavela, then together, all five of the young individuals, looked at the barkeeper, keeping their words to themselves.

I, of course, couldn’t help myself, commenting in an innocent, feminine tone,

“W-we…stepped on your shoe?” I looked down at his feet; he wore old shoes with worn soles and missing laces. Looking up at him once more, I continued, “I-I’m sorry.”

From Erik, Jonathan and Anthony’s point-of-view, her words were sweet and cute, but also feminine and soft.

The barkeeper repeated himself, thinking they didn’t hear his first inquiry.

“You inthulted my sthew!”

“Look, I’m sorry if we stepped on your shoes, but I replace that a little difficult since you’re on the other side of the table.” my voice cracked.

Erik, Sarah, Jonathan and Anthony, couldn’t contain the hard laughter that stabbed at their guts, nor could they hide tears that welled in their eyes, causing them to lean their heads low.

They weren’t laughing at the man’s speech, but at me and my reaction, because I just couldn’t understand a word this poor man was trying to say. Brought up better than to make fun of someone, especially if they have a physical, mental or verbal disability, I shrugged, unable to understand him, and I’m not sorry for it.

The barkeeper groaned turning away, leaving the millennials behind him. Stomping toward the table by the door, he stood, glancing over his shoulder toward the circular table where the young men and women held their heads close together.

“I think we going to have trouble with them over there.”

“Bloody hell, mate…” one of the men threw his cards down, for he wondered if they would ever get to finish their game of cards. Leaning back, he leered at the barkeeper, “And why is that?”

“Because they rude, little rats! They inthulted my sthew and boke my thair!” the man argued.

“What?!” another man argued, throwing his cards down, “We don’t speak gibberish, speak English you daft bloke!”

“They…” he stuttered, managing to replace the words clearly, in a long drawn out sentence, “they insulted my stew, and broke my chair. Just…just keep you eyes on them, yes? The man…”

“Which one?” one of the other men glanced toward the table, eyeing the three men in question.

“The fancy one smelling like a woman.” the barkeeper turned, leering toward the Italian, “He good for breeding, no?” he ran his tongue across lips as he eyed the two women, “And they all smell pretty.”

“Smell pretty, you say?” another questioned curiously.

“Doesn’t matter how pretty, or good, they smell. They will be good mates for our sons and daughters. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll keep the dark haired beauty for myself.” a third man bragged, eyeing her from afar, “Oh yes…” he grunted, “she’ll be mine!” he leaned forward.

“No!” the barkeeper barked, “We tell the Elders first.” he let out a deep grunt then turned, rushing back toward the table, arguing loudly as he grew closer to the millennials, “I know you all lying, because I hear one of you thez it! You’ve no manners, so what right have you come here and laugh at me?!”

“Sir…” Anthony slowly stood, facing the man, “respectfully, I ask that you watch your tone. We meant no disrespect to you, or anyone else here. Now…” he gestured for the others from their seats, “I think we have overstayed our visit, so I think it would be best if we were on our way, hmm? We will leave…” he backed away, “and wait outside for our comrades, who will be returning soon.” he nodded, “All right?”

The barkeeper, up close, studied the Italian in front of him, and muttered in a low rasping whisper,

“Yes, very good…very-very good.”

Anthony leaned away from him, grimacing uncomfortably.

The men sitting at the table, overheard the group stating the sudden leave; they quickly stood. While four rushed outside, the remaining six slowly approached the table, blocking their path with their tall, burly bulks by encircling the young men and women.

Anthony backed everyone around the barkeeper, making sure we headed toward the door, but the six men followed; their menacing mannerisms made him and those behind him feel extremely uncomfortable and trapped.

“Where you think you going, pwitty boys and waydees?!” the barkeeper’s loud, boisterous voice shouted after them.

Everyone stopped, bumping into each other awkwardly.

“Did he just call us pretty boys?” Anthony asked softly over his shoulder, hating the term with such distaste because it was derogatory and implied other things that he was not!

“Yeah, mate…he did.” Jonathan groaned, clenching his fists.

“I thought so.” Erik complained.

“What the bloody hell is a pwitty waydee?” Sarah mumbled.

“Pretty ladies, I think he meant pretty ladies.” I pinched her.

She grimaced a frown, rubbing her arm.

Turning around, glaring at the barkeeper, Erik was about to say something but I stopped him, because things couldn’t, in that moment, get any worse, but they did. Watching as the man stepped forward, listening to him rant in broken speech, he then said something that made me want to punch out the teeth he had left in his mouth, then set his a** on fire.

“And what about you, pwitty young waydees? Want wheel men, you look good enough to eat and I’m hungry!” and with his left hand, he grabbed his groin in a sexual manner.

Feeling sick to my stomach, and a lump in my throat, I stared at him. Taking a step forward, around Erik and Anthony, the words rushed from my mouth.

“You’ve got to be kidding, you actually think you’re real men? The lot of you?!” I gestured at him, then at the six others that were surrounding us closely, “Oh please, don’t make me sick! And by the way, we did insult your stew…I didn’t step on your shoe, and I did break your chair so sue me, and send me the f*cking bill!”

“Yeah, you bloody backwoods freaks!” Sarah blurted loudly.

“She did it. There you go. We’re done for.” Jonathan rasped.

Anthony shuffled toward the two women, placing his hand on the half-breed’s shoulder, while keeping his eyes fixed upon all of the men gathering closer around them. With his gentle touch, he advised telepathically, what she was doing and that she needed to calm down, for she was beginning to steam, and then he shrieked softly feeling a warmth stab his palm.

“Sorry.” I turned to him.

“We’ll be on our way, as stated.” Anthony announced, as his dark eyes scanned the room. Holding his hands in surrender, as if offering peace, he continued, “We will just wait outside and leave you kind folks alone.” he watched as the young ones in his company nodded agreeably, huddling close around him. As he guided them toward the door, they didn’t make it because the six men blocked their access, “Please, allow us to pass.” he asked politely, but firmly, as he stood tall.

“Go get the Elders, tell them we have PREY in my tavern!” the barkeeper glanced at one of the men sitting at the bar.

The man in question, nodded then slipped off the stool then slipped past the six men, rushing outside, leaving the doors to squeak loudly as they swung on their rusting hinges.

“What does he mean by prey?” I whispered.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound good.” Erik stood close.

“We’re in deep sh*t.” Jonathan mumbled, holding Sarah close.

“Wh-what does he mean by prey?” Sarah squeaked, “Nathan.” she whispered, missing her brother’s company.

“No, this isn’t good at all.” Anthony growled, holding out his arms, attempting to shield them from the men and their eerie, unsettling gazes.

Feeling the heat beginning to rise, I grew defensive, and then water in the pipes running through the walls, and the pump behind the counter, rattled loudly before water exploded from the lever on the wall behind the bar, spewing onto the floor in boiling temperatures. Even bottles of liquor shattered as their contents steamed in addition, before erupting into tall, rapid fires.

The townsmen jumped, growing startled as they turned, all glancing toward the bar where the fire danced along the long stretch of counter space. Sharing expressions with the man next to him, the seven men all turned, leering at the young, petite half-breed that stood engulfed in steam.

“Witch!” one of the men called out, pointing at her, “Witch!”

“Bind them, bind them quickly!” another man shouted.

Before any of us could react, the six men lunged forward, and with their rough hands, they gathered us up like animals next for slaughter, but it was Erik and Jonathan who tried using their arcane magics and Anthony who put up a fight, swiping his paranormal claws beginning to extract, but after being knocked across the back of the head with hard fists, it broke their focus and attempts. For Sarah and I, we were pulled away from our friends, being in the grasp of the barkeeper’s hands and one of the other men; they breathed in our faces, taking in the scent of our perfumes, before laughing loudly, looking at the other men who gloated.

“Let them go!” Anthony growled, flashing his yellow eyes.

“You heard him!” Jonathan raged, revealing his Demon eyes.

“Look at this…” one of the men boasted, stepping toward the two men, “we’ve got a wolf!” he eyed Anthony’s eyes closely, then glanced at Jonathan and Erik, “And two Demons.” he smiled, facing his comrades, “The Elders will be pleased!”

“Enough of this!” the barkeeper barked loudly, “We have to…” and before he could finish, the petite woman he held onto, had stomped hard on his foot, then jabbed her elbow deep against his ribs.

Feeling his hands loosen off my arms, I attempted to run to my friends but the barkeeper reached out, grabbing my hair. I shrieked, being yanked backwards, thrown against the bar; I cried out, feeling the ledge pierce between my shoulders.

“Stop it, leave her alone!” Anthony roared, and taking a step forward, hoping to fight the barkeeper, he was punched by one of the men. Falling backwards against one of the tables, then pulled forward, thrown to the ground with Jonathan and Erik, his efforts failed.

Suddenly, the sound of chains rattling, echoed. The men, they removed iron and silver shackles from bags sitting hidden on the seats of the chairs at the table by the door. Quickly, the men and women in their net, were bound in chains then were thrown together, pushed to their knees in a circle of captors.

The barkeeper threw her to the ground, then bound her with a set of iron shackles, and looking into her face, offering her a smug grin, she spat in his. Closing his eyes, listening to the men around him laugh, he wiped his dirty hand across his face, licking the saliva from his palm, then looked at her.

“Mmm, you tastes good, little girl.” he mocked, leaning in.

Turning my head away, closing my eyes, I was afraid.

The barkeeper reached out, roughly grabbing her face, and as he attempted turning her face to look at him, she struggled. He frowned, then slapped her brutally across her jaw, before he stood, looming tall above her.

“Yza?” I heard my name called by my friends.

“Keeps?” Erik rasped.

“Little Yza?” Anthony added.

Shuffling toward them, leaning in, I looked at them both. My eyes then looked at Jonathan; he, Erik and I listened in on the screaming thoughts of the men in the room, and all of their intentions were frightening, gruesome, and horrific. I think at that moment, we could all agree that we would be better off dead, instead of what these townsfolk had planned for us, and Anthony.

“All of you will make delicious meals, we love animal meat!”

“Animal meat?” Sarah squeaked, “Oh…we’re going to wind up in their stew, aren’t we?” she cried, leaning her head onto Jonathan’s shoulder.

“The Elders are dealing with the others from yesterday!” one of the men returned, rushing into the tavern, “But they will be here as soon as they can.” he stood next to the others, then scanned the prisoners on their knees, “We should take them to the Boxes.” he looked at the barkeeper, “So they can’t get away.”

“BOXES?” the word ran through all of our minds.

Nodding agreeably, the barkeeper laughed, slapping the man on the shoulder then snapped, declaring the other men to act on the suggestion. He backed away, watching as the six men pulled the young men and women to their feet, pushing them toward the door, not without putting up as much of a fight in the process.

“Either you walk, or we cut your legs off!” one of the men, in a deep rasping voice, warned as he held a blade against one of the women’s throats, “What’s it gonna be little girl, hmm?” he smelled her blonde hair.

“Do something Jonathan!” Sarah pleaded, looking at him.

“Like what, I’m bound in iron!” he complained.

“Erik?” she looked at him.

“Same.” he raised his hands, wincing as the iron metal burned against his skin. Looking at Jonathan then over at Yzavela and Anthony, they too, winced from the contact of the metal. As he glanced at his hands, he attempted utilizing his magic, trying to conjure a spark that could possibly create a bright burst to blind the men, but his efforts were thwarted, not just from the iron shackles, but he screamed as one of the men had jabbed a taser deep into his side, sending a high voltage that crippled him to his knees momentarily.

“Erik!” I cried.

“Erik, mate…” Jonathan worried, trying to pull away.

“Erik, are you all right?” Anthony inquired.

“No, I’m…not all right!” he barked, leering at the Italian.

“Activate the Grid.” one of the men shouted loudly, “Quickly!”

Two of the men nodded, then turned, exiting the tavern; their feet stomped down the steps, disappearing outside. As they ran down the street, making their way toward the end of the town with no name, they approached a large metal structure, quickly opening two panels with large levers. Looking at one another, nodding, they pulled them down in a quick yank, and within minutes, a surge of electricity ran through the cables of the four towers, creating a grid above the town. Returning to the tavern, passing one of the older structures, there were four men with hefty builds, dressed in old brown steampunk uniforms secured at the waist with black leather belts.

“They’re coming…” one of the men announced as he rushed through the tavern door, “the Elders are coming, we must get them to the Boxes now!”

“Take them out the back!” the barkeeper ordered perfectly, as he turned, pointing toward a door leading outback behind the tavern. Stepping back, watching as the men dragged the men and women, he frowned, listening as they all screamed and cried, continuing to fight and protest against their capture, “Gag ‘em, we don’t need them screaming and a yellin’ before they’re prepared.” he pointed, “It will ruin the flavor of the meats!”

“Flavor of the meats?!” Anthony’s yellow eyes grew wide.

“Hills Have Eyes.” I mocked, with a sore, bruising jaw.

“Not helping.” Sarah whimpered.

“Gag ‘em now!” the barkeeper shouted again, then glanced at the doors, hearing the Elders’ voices approaching closer in a robotic unison. Rushing forward, grabbing rags off the bar, he shoved them into the mouths of the young women, while the other men pushed rags into the others mouths, “Go…” he pointed toward the back door once more, then turned, quickly adjusting his apron, waiting for the Elders to enter his tavern.

The six men dragged the young men and women through the back door, carrying them over their shoulders with difficulty, as they squirmed and punched against their backs. Dropping them on the muddy ground, having the rain fall harder upon them, the townsmen stood above them.

“What is that?!” I groaned telepathically, feeling a tickle run down my spine.

“The Grid, I’m guessing.” Erik pushed himself on his elbows.

“Smart f*ckers.” Jonathan looked at them, knowing these men must have dealt with Demons and Shayds before, knowing how to block their magical capabilities with an electric Grid.

“So you can’t use your magic at all?” Anthony worried.

“Not a spark.” I reached out, holding onto his arm.

“Up…get up!” the men demanded, but their orders were met with resistance.

“Fine, have it your way!” one of the others removed the mace that hung from his belt, swinging it hard across Anthony’s skull, knocking him unconscious. He watched as the Italian fell backwards, laying on his back, then pointed at the young men and women, who shrieked and cried, worrying about their companion, “We said…get up, or you’ll get worse than him!” he gestured at Anthony, then reached out, pulling them to their feet, “Drag him!” he looked at the others.

As one of the men tossed me over his shoulder, the rag fell from my mouth allowing me to release a blood curdling scream; it could be heard among the pounding rain and as it continued, the water beneath the men’s feet began to boil as the scream echoed loudly, and within seconds, the man dropped me to the ground, feeling a burst of heat against his shoulder and hand. I grunted, laying motionless as I fell into the wet mud; I felt it squishing beneath me from my weight.

“You f*cking little b*tch!” the man growled, turning her over onto her back, shoving the rag back in her mouth, “You are gonna pay for that, and I promise you I won’t be as gentle as men should be!” he knelt down, grabbing her by her waist, pulling her to her feet, then tossed her over his shoulder a second time, “Besides…” he slapped her backside that was covered in mud from her fall, “fear enriches the meat and all of its flavor so keep it up…all of ye, hmm?” he laughed loudly.

Lowering my head, feeling fatigued from the shackles around my wrists, the fall and the soreness in my jaw, I watched as the other men carried Sarah, Erik and Jonathan over their shoulders, while two dragged Anthony’s limp body through the muddy streets, soiling his leather jacket, pants, and dark hair.

Carrying them down the street to a section of the town that was more built up with lamps and electricity, the men entered an old rickety hut, tossing the men and women to the ground once more, leaving them to stir in fear. The men approached four lockers, 4 x 8 in size, with iron and steel sheets that were riveted together with large bolts and screws. Unlocking their heavy iron doors, they turned to the young women and men, dragging the unconscious Italian across the floor quickly into the closest locker, plopping him on the ground before turning to the remaining captives.

Looking around, Sarah’s tear-filled eyes grew wide, seeing all sorts of bones and piles of skins she weren’t sure were mortal or animal. Screaming through her gag, as the men rushed in swift steps, pulling her to her feet, she turned to glance over her shoulder, spotting hooks dripping with blood and tables with knives, saws, and other tools to filet, chop and slice meat. She was pushed inside, landing on the ground with Yzavela, then the door closed behind them, rattling loudly before an eerie scrape crawled along the outer surface, locking the door in place. Whimpering, her blue eyes barely scanned the walls and floors, because of a red bulb above providing dull lighting, that were old splintered wood panels tightly fit and nailed together, stained with blood, then looking beneath her as she pushed herself to her knees, a thick layer of blood covered the palms of her hands and knees. A hanging in the upper right corner, was a vent-fan, blowing clod air that caused large meat hooks, dripping and drying with blood, to sway in place as they were anchored to the bars running along the length of the ceiling, connecting to the pipes that ran from the vent. Shaking Yzavela, she pointed around then removed the gag from her mouth, then reached over, helping her do the same.

“Thanks.” I coughed, spitting out the stale taste, then I too, looked around, noticing the conditions of our prisons; Anthony laid sprawled on the floor, corner-to-corner, making it difficult to move around his long legs, because there was hardly any floor space. Suddenly, I heard both Erik and Jonathan pounding on the walls next door, “Erik? Jonathan?” I called out loudly, thinking they could hear my easily.

“Sarah? Yza?” their voices answered faintly.

“Are you all right?!” Erik cried, telepathically, unable to hear her properly over the sound of the fan in their freezer.

“What do you think?!” I moaned, then reached over, checking on Anthony’s condition, “Anthony?” I whispered, placing my hands on his chest, giving a gentle shake, but he didn’t wake. Lifting his head, blood leaked from a wound that must have opened from one of the spikes of the man’s mace, “That son-of-a-b*tch…” I cursed the man that did this, “Sarah, give me your rag.” I looked at her, taking the cloth to dab the blood.

“Will he be all right?” she worried, kneeling alongside him.

“I don’t know.” I too, worried, holding the rags in place, “Do you know any CPR or medical training?” I looked at her.

“No.” she shook her head, then stood, saying nothing more as she turned, managing to stand. Slamming her hands on the heavy iron door, she let out a few cries for help but she wasn’t sure if her words could be heard.

“Sarah…” Jonathan’s voice answered her telepathically.

“Jonathan?” she rasped, turning to the wall to her right.

“I’m here, lass.” he placed his hands on the wall, then winced, pulling them away for the iron sheeting burned his hands, “Is this what I think it is?” he turned to Erik, who paced, looking around.

Erik raised his gaze, almost with a pout, looking at his friend.

“Yeah, mate…I think so.” he rasped softly, clearing his throat, “We’re in their meat freezers and in their kitchen.” he felt a chill in the air then glanced at the vent, seeing cold air streaming through, “This is bad Jonathan, we’re f*cked.” he looked around.

“You think?’ Jonathan complained, removing his jacket, “Use this.” he handed it to Erik to place over the vent.

“No, put that back on.” Erik argued, refusing the offer.

Jonathan lowered his hand, then quickly put it back on. As he folded his arms, the fatigue from the chains, and the outer walls, were beginning to take its toll on him, Erik and he was pretty sure for Yzavela as well.

“Yza?” he turned, calling out to her.

“Yeah, Jonathan?” I answered, glancing over my shoulder.

“How you doin’ over there?”

“Peachy, thanks.” I complained, “Just enjoying the comforts of this freezer, and the sight of blood on the walls and floors.” I looked up at Sarah, then behind me, toward the vent, blowing its cold air, “A f*cking freezer, never thought I’d die this way,” I finished.

Jonathan smiled, looking at Erik, who shook his head.

“MARXUS, YOU BASTARD! YOU SAID WE’D BE SAFE.” I thought, “IF WE GET OUT OF THIS, SOMEHOW, OR SOMEWAY ON OUR OWN, WITHOUT YOUR HELP, I SWEAR YOU WILL NEVER HEAR THE END OF THIS.”

“You’re not the only one.” Jonathan’s voice answered.