Demon Day by Penelope Fletcher (best novels in english .TXT) 📕

room before me was empty apartfrom a single metal chair with a small table beside it. When myeyes landed on what was on the table I froze. Then my gaze driftedacross the floor.

Blood.

I stepped back, shaking my head,trembling from head to toe. The Clerics grabbed my upper arms whenI tried to plant my feet. I screamed. A wad of stinking cloth wasstuffed into my mouth, forcing my jaw open then another tied overto keep it put when I tried to spit it out. Within moments, my jawwas dry and aching from my muffled shrieks.

I was thrown into the chair and theiron shackles hooked into iron rings on the floor. The metallicsmell of blood wafted off the instruments beside me and Iconsciously leaned away, pressing my head into my shoulder. I wasstrapped in with leather belts across my waist, chest, and legs.The iron chains were arranged in a way that kept my hands lasheddown to the chair arms, palm up.

Oh, gods this was bad. I’d fallen intoghastly situations before, but this was really bad.

I tried to look brave. Tried to lookunaffected and bold, but the rise and fall of my chest was toopronounced to name me anything but completely terrified.

A figure, stepped into the lowdoorway. His face was shadowed, but I could see he had big arms andcalves. Wisps of curly hair had drifted out from beneath hiscrimson cloak, which flapped with each step against the back of histhighs. His black boots were buckled up to his knees, and hisfunnel-like sleeves fell over his hands. He stepped forward and Imet the cold stare trained on me, flinching when anger sparked intheir depths.

“You may not fear us now,”he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “But you will. You may thinkyou will not give up the rest of … your kind but you will. You maythink because you heal that our cuts,” he hissed the word, “won’thurt so badly.”

My eyes drifted closed. He would notsee me cry. I had once thought this man to be the best of humanity,thought him kind, honorable, and good. Now as I looked into hisface, I saw nothing but death. So I closed my eyes and thought ofBreandan. I would focus on the good, clean things.

A sharp slap to my face had my lidsslamming open.

“Pay attention, demon,”Cleric Tu spat.

I flushed in anger, feeling weltsstinging my cheek where he had slapped me. I fought the reaction toburst into tears; so derogatory was such a strike. Instead, Iglared at him and let loathing twist my expression into somethinginhuman.

“Yes. That’s right.” Heleaned down and placed his hands on my forearms, squeezing mepainfully. “Show us the creature beneath the magic. It makes my joba whole lot easier. Do you know our slashes, our stabs, never usedto do much good? They never did hurt you fairies for long.” Hepicked up a pair of pincers. Blood and bits of flesh crusted thetips. “Yes, I know what you are. The wings make it a bit obvious,”he finished dryly. He brought the instrument inches from my faceuntil it was all I could see. So strong was the smell I couldalmost taste the rotting skin stuck to the clamping end and beneathit the sharp scent of iron that had my stomach crunching painfully.“Well let me tell you that in the last century of survival we’vegotten extremely gifted at making our cuts hurt likehell.”

A Cleric out of my line of sightslammed the door closed.

I wish I could say it was dark fromthen. In honesty I had hoped I would black out from panic thenrepress any memories that may be too painful to recall.

But I was conscious, aware throughoutthe entire ordeal.

Surely I screamed for days, down, inthat box of white?

No matter how hard I screamed hisname, no matter how hard I tried to call him to me, he nevercame.

Then I screamed for somebody, anybody,to save me.

Each time I thought my pain hadreached its peak they would do something that would have my heartstuttering, and my mind buckling under the strain. They knew how tocause maximum damage whilst keeping me conscious.

When I almost passed out they shot mewith adrenaline. I had thought it was the end, was convinced theneedle was full of poison that would burn me from the inside out.They jammed the thin tube of metal into my chest and my bodyconvulsed.

When it was no longer safe to keepjump starting my heart they would make me pop slammers until I washigh, laughing as they stripped the flesh from my knuckles thenbrought me crashing back down with blows from fists andtazers.

My body healed, but soon it chose itswounds more carefully.

At one point they tried to remove thecirclet from my brow, but when a Cleric was zapped with magic untilhe collapsed they stopped trying.

The first time they sliced me open – ashallow cut to the forearm – it had healed instantly, the skinfresh and new, pinker than the rest of my skin with a faint scarwhere the wound had been. It was like my body mocked them. TheClerics merely grunted and started hacking, slicing, and rippingaway at me until my body gave up, and my blood ran over my wristsand the seat like a waterfall to pool on the floor about my barefeet.

I had broken bones in my body before,as a Disciple, it came with the territory of training. But it hadalways been accidental and a broken wrist healed fast, even if youwere human. Legs, fingers, and toes broken in such a way to causeexcruciating pain were a different matter.

Always I healed, a fresh canvass forthem to mutilate over and over again.

I remember thinking with a kind ofhorror that this would be my fate. They would keep me in that roomfor an eternity and beat me senseless. Then when my body could nolonger heal, its reserves used, and unable to draw power from theSource they would kill me. The thought had brought with it a greatsense of relief. I would die. They could not torment meindefinitely without giving my body sustenance. I would die, andright then I was thankful for it.

But they