My head… it hurts…
The awareness was regaining itself with a groan on the part of Vince. A sharpness of pain that was sharp as knives rushing up to the inside of his brain, throbbed in his skull. The world in which he lived was different, sounds different. The ringing did not startle him, the sea was not silent and silent, but surging around his ears. None of the gritty stuff poking in his flesh.
No.
he heard now a whistling of the air and voices in the distance. There was a softness, almost too comfortable beneath him, which would have drawn him down to sleep once more.
He forced his eyes open. He had been lying on a bed, one of four in a row. There was a drinking stand close to the wall.
He lifted his hand, blinking. It was no longer long and jagged and dark blue. His nails weren't claws. His skin wasn't monstrous.
It was pale again. Normal. Human.
Am I… human again?!
This idea struck his mind and his heart jumped. He stood up, but at once he found himself sorry he had done so, the pain in his head was like a hammer-stroke.
"Ahhh!"
His head was in his hands, his temples being rubbed between his shaky fingers.
Then there was a voice in the distance, deep, but sharp.
"Salomon. You're finally awake."
Vince chilled at the sound of the voice of Jasper. It wasn't comfort. It was a reminder.
"Oh… right."
His horrified and disgusted face changed. He wasn't free anymore. He was not even himself any more. He was a tool. A puppet. A slave.
because I had faith in that pig.
But how could he himself fault himself? Adam and The Darken Ages had spared him to a certain death. It had been so long since he had had an actual conversation with anybody. He had never been rescued by anybody. Not like that.
I believed I would be able to maintain a poker face… o, what a fool I am.
It is not even that it was unpleasant being enslaved. What really gnashed at him was that he saw his body, his soul, growing more and more of a monster to what it was. Seeing himself lose all that was humane in him. Being aware that he would never have a second memory, a second moment as himself.
My life's always been shit.
He glanced at Jasper standing with his usual neutral face. Black trousers. High boots. A white shirt under a vest. This time the mask covered no more than the top half of his face. Vince looked up to find black eyes looking back at him, and short black hair, streaked with white, perhaps, because of stress or aging. One of the rifles was leant up against the wall. Vince had never seen the hair of Jasper before.
"Y… yeah. Guess I am."
His voice was odd with anxiety.
He was cut in half by the stare of Jasper.
Stop acting like we're friends. We both know you're scared. Everyone else left. You are the new one, our new toy, so I am the one who has to prepare you to what you will get to know.
Jasper had a high, sharp, and demanding voice.
Vince stood up, every hair on his body erect.
He actually read me like a book…
Vince felt like killing Adam and Jasper both, a moment and he lacked the strength. He knew it. He couldn't do anything. Not yet.
"R-right," he muttered.
Jasper left his rifle against the wall and stood. He strode to the door, and hesitated in passing through.
Get yourself together my lad, he said without turning. "Your clothes are filthy. We'll get you new ones. And take your little book. You do not want to leave it behind.
Then the door clicked shut.
My book?
Oh, right.
It was sitting there, Vince turned and saw. Scars of red, bloody X were sprinkled over the cover.
And my clothes?
He looked down at himself. His black robe was full of mud. Its garments were rags with holes.
Fuck.
It was even a struggle to get out of bed. His head ached so that he could hardly stand.
Everything hurts.
He looked at his hand. Something felt different.
He came to the drinking-stand and touched his palm against it.
THUD!
His hand pierced the wood and half the table was splintered.
Holy shit.
Vince stood and stared at his hand with his mouth open.
Did I… get this strong?
He was inundated with other sensations. His sense of smell sharper. His vision clearer. His lungs filling easily.
Am I really this powerful?
His face flushed in a gigantic expression of joy. As he squeezed the fists, his knuckles popped out like stones rubbing together.
Attempting to forget what had occurred not so long ago, he took the book. Its cover was glittering with the red Xs.
It felt as light as a feather.
What if I open it?
He was starting to lift a page—.
ache burst through his head.
"Ah—!"
The shock passed through his very fibres.
Is this the curse they meant?
Vince held his head, then took a moment to look down at the book, then fell over to the bathroom. Every step gave him a throb in the brain.
He examined himself in the glass. He looked normal again. Pale face. Gray eyes, though faded. Unruly hair that would most likely be sorted out with some water.
He looked at his dirty garments, and resolved to leave them till then.
When he got to the waiting area he spotted the receptionist. He gave a small wave. She glanced at him with a weird smile and shook her hand very slowly.
Is it how I look?
He shut his eyes and walked on.
Jasper was sitting in a chair, with his eyes stuck up at the ceiling. His eyes seemed to be remote, as though they possessed a life of their own.
When he saw Vince he slipped back to his commanding voice.
"Let's go."