2 Chapter 2: The Cell

Nevaeh awoke with a start, gasping in shock. Her hand flew to her throat, where she could still feel Lazarus' bite, though it had already healed. She traced the little bumps from the scar that had formed from his teeth sinking through her flesh, and absentmindedly noted that the skin there felt a few degrees cooler than the rest of her neck.

As she began to calm, she looked down at her other hand, and her stomach dropped. On her wrist was a silver bracelet, with a shackle lock, and it was covered in intricately carved spells. Her head snapped up, as she quickly took in the cot, the sink, and the bars.

Prison!?!?

She flew out of the cot and slammed into the cold metal of her cell, shaking them violently in her fists, panic worming it's way into her heart. She seemed to be the only one in captivity, and there were no guards in sight.

"Help! Someone, please! Get me out of here!" she screamed, shaking the bars again. No one answered her, and she spun around, her eyes wildly searching for a way out. She ran to the window, but it was too high for her to reach. "Help me, please!" she yelled at it, hoping a passerby on the street might answer. When she heard nothing, she desperately started clawing at the bracelet, which was negating her powers. If she could get it off...

"That will do no good, my dear," a familiar voice, ancient but kind, said softly, making her look back at the window again. There, she saw a familiar gray cat with a scar over it's shut left eye. "The only good that will do is hurt your wrist, what with how violently you are scraping at it."

It jumped down to the cot and sat, morphing into an tall old man, with no hair on his head and a beard that reached down to the floor. His cloaks were that of an Elder, though he had long ago retired, and was now, instead, a teacher and mentor at the local university, where he specialized in Magical Studies, and Arithmetic. He had been like both a grandfather and a master to her, and she had taken an apprenticeship with him while she had only been a child.

"Professor Amaranthine!" she cried, running into his arms. "What is happening? Why have I been locked up?"

His brow furrowed. "Do you remember what happened earlier this evening, just after dark?" he asked, his question full of worry.

Nevaeh hesitated. "Yes, I remember. I saved Jason, after he had crashed his car on his way to Elizabeth's party. I was walking there myself when I saw him lose control and crash..." Horror flooded her face, draining her of color as she remembered how he had looked when she had found him, destroyed and dying.

"And?" Professor Amaranthine prodded gently, pushing her to tell the rest.

"I-I..." she swallowed and bit her bottom lip. "I called upon a demon, to help me save him..." Guilt made the heat rise to her cheeks, flushing them again with color.

"Who did you call, Nevaeh?"

The memory of Lazarus flashed into her mind, his red eyes boring into her. She swallowed again, the connection between the prison and the questions clicking into place.

"Lazarus, the Blood King," she whispered.

The old man shook his head. He looked equally disappointed and pained, but she felt worse than if he had blown up at her instead. She wished he would yell at her, condemn her actions. But he didn't, simply pointed at the mirror above the sink.

She slowly rose and went to stand in front of the mirror. She looked at her hair, falling in a disorganized and tangled mass around her face. Her makeup, the little she wore, was smeared and nearly gone. Everything from her hair to her feet was covered in a mix of sweat, ash, dirt, and blood. Then her eyes fell on her neck, and she froze.

The place where Lazarus had bitten her now had an intricate, red tattoo scrawled around it. It looked like a crescent moon, surrounded by swirling and overlapping vines, that twisted into a round, almost birdnest-like shape. The scar she had felt was not visible, covered completely by the crescent moon.

"You've been marked, my dear," he said sadly, "and that is all anyone can see at the moment."

She shook her head, her mind reeling.

"But... I did it to save him..."

He sighed. "The reason why matters not. The only thing that DOES matter is that you are now a Demon Wife, and that puts this entire village in danger." She must have looked shocked, so he continued. "Demon Wives are humans that have made a pact with a demon, usually for a favor. Once a demon fulfills their end of the bargain, they mark them, both as a sign to other demons that they are claimed, as well as a warning to humans that get too attached to the one that the demon is bonded to. It also gives the demon a direct connection to their wives, and they can feel and sense everything, from the health of the individual to their fear and pain levels."

"So... why does that make me dangerous? How does that effect the village?"

"Demons are possessive by nature. Selfish and often cruel. What do you think happens if someone accidentally bumps into you and causes you pain? Or if a man in the village falls in love with you? What would he do if you became ill or the village caused you too much anguish?"

Nevaeh shivered subconsciously. From the stories, she knew a demon could fly into a rage, terrorizing anyone and anything in sight. If they had a selfish bond with a human... She shook her head and started trying to calm herself. What if he mistakened her confusion and fear for something the village was doing? No one deserved death from putting her in a cell.

"Master," she whispered. "What are they going to do with me?"

He morphed back into a cat and jumped back up to the window before looking back at her.

"I don't know, Child." He shook his head. "I really don't know."

A moment later, she was alone, and never had she felt such silence.