172. Chapter 172

Consciousness crept in on Nicole, forcing her towards wakefulness and a reality she didn’t want to face. It brought with it a nightmare of scents and sounds she had fought for most of her life to escape. Even without opening her eyes or looking outside of any window she knew that somehow she was back in Bulshar’s mansion in Georgia.

It was there in the acrid scent of rotting peaches, gasoline, death and decay that lingered in the air and reached into her mind. And it was in the sounds of hopeless sobbing, begging and screams of pain.

It was the sounds and smells that had made up the first five years of her life.

The sounds faded back, disappearing into the past and leaving Nicole wondering if she had heard the screams or if they had been conjured from the depths of her memory by the scents that only seemed to grow stronger and clearer.

She tried to still her breathing for fear of giving her consciousness away to anyone that might be watching and drawing attention to herself before she could work out what was going on and the best way to get back to her family.

A moan of anguish threatened to crawl out of her throat as she thought about what had happened… and what might be happening. She held it back, barely, but the thoughts clawing at her mind, whispering about all the horrors they would face at Bulshar’s hand had her breathing growing ragged and made Nicole aware of the weight of the chains cinched tight around her body, holding her arms behind her back.

A surreptitious tug, a straining of muscles and joints, let her know that her hands and ankles were cuffed together too, and also that whatever the chains were made of… she was powerless to break them. She could barely move and she felt too weak to shift and that was an instinctual part of her that could only be controlled by herself, magic or a stronger Alpha exerting their will against her.

Hearing the echo of footsteps on bare stone moving towards her, Nicole knew her time to get a bead on the situation was growing short and cracked open her eyes to look around her.

The room was bare, dark stained stone upon stone with rings set into the floor and walls at various intervals depending on where restraints were needed and a drain, encircled by a darker stain, set into the middle of the floor for when the cell would need hosing down from whatever was spilt.

There were no windows to give hope. They were too far below the ground for them and really, Bulshar had not designed the cells to give even a hint of hope even if hope could be a cruel mistress he could have used to weaken his captives. Apart from the rings, the only thing that broke up the dank stone motif was the dark wooden door studded and braced with metal that stood opposite her.

She had never been on this side of one of the doors before but she knew she was in one of the cells in the lower basement of the mansion just from her one visit to them. From the outside, the area was just a bare corridor of sturdy wooden doors with hatches set at eye level in them.

Nicole knew because she had slipped away from a meal early one day to escape the boredom of watching some poor soul being tortured for Bulshar’s entertainment and had managed to slip through a door and worked her way down to the cells before anyone had realised she was missing.

Nicole could remember the sounds coming from beyond the locked doors, the pitiful cries for mercy… for death. And it was there that Bulshar himself had found her and had taken delight in ‘rewarding’ her curiosity by holding her up to the hatches in each door so she could see his ‘guests’ and they could see her.

She was four and that was Nicole’s first experience with having hatred and fear directed at her personally as Bulshar had forced his will upon each and every one of them and made them turn, telling them it was for his daughter.

Nicole had been punished for a week after that and Nicole had never known if it was just part of the normal punishment that was a daily occurrence anyway or if it was maybe because she had shown no joy or even fear in what he had done to the prisoners.

For years afterwards, once Nicole had found out that that existence that had been forced upon her wasn’t normal, she had worried that her lack of feelings at the time had been because she was like Bulshar as everyone feared. Now though she knew it was partly because that was all she had known, PTSD, and the ingrained knowledge at the tender age of four that showing any emotion or weakness would have led to worse punishments.

The footsteps halted right outside the door and with a sound plucked out of her nightmares, the hatch scraped open. The strip of light from the lights in the corridor was eclipsed as someone looked through the opening.

“Oh goody, our guest is awake at last.”

Nicole gritted her teeth at the all too familiar sound of Bobo Del Ray’s voice punctuated by a giggle that made her wonder how much of his sanity was left.

The door opened and he stepped inside flanked once more by two other robed figures. Even beneath the formless attire, his movements were twisted and jerky like a nervous cat in a room full of rocking chairs waiting to be kicked. His head bobbed, his eyes darting around like he was strung out on drugs.

His face was still pitted and scared from the fire and silver, but there were fresh wounds on his face. Three angry looking, jagged lines running from temple to jaw.

“Baby Earp needs to learn some manners,” Bobo stated as he caught her looking at his face. He ran his fingers through the marks on his face, moaning loudly in pleasure at the pain before lapping at the fresh blood on his fingertips from where his nails had dug in.

“If you touch her—!”

Darting forward, Bobo grasped her jaw, lifting her off the floor and forced her back until her head cracked against the wall of the cell. “You also need to learn some manners, bitch! Be quiet before your betters!”

Looking over his shoulder, he nodded and watched as a chair was brought in and was placed in the middle of the floor. Bolts slid into place, securing it so it wouldn’t tip over. Though he’d always thought that that kind of soiled the fun of hitting someone so hard that the chair toppled over.

Tightening his grip on the redhead’s throat, he yanked her off her feet and slammed her into the chair, holding her until the chains were secured. “I still think you should have been put out of my misery years ago, pup,” he hissed. “Put down along with that bitch mother of yours. But… I am not one to question the wishes of my lord, Bulshar.”

“Where’s my family?”

“You will get to be reunited with your father soon.”

“That bastard is not my family you sick freak! Where are my babies?! Where is Waverly?!”

“Shush! I think you really should be worried more about yourself right now. Do you like your chains? Strong aren’t they?” He grinned as Bulshar’s whelp strained futilely against them. “Would you like to meet their maker? Always nice to see old friends again.”

Nicole frowned in confusion at Bobo’s anticipation. Obviously, he felt sure that his reveal was going to hurt her but what more could he possibly do that would hurt more than what he already had?

The figure to Bobo’s right stepped forward at his gesture, reluctance seeing to weigh their steps. Bobo gave a tug on the hood of its robe… her robe.

“Mattie? What? Why?” Nicole gaped in confusion at the sight of their friend and ally. After everything they had been through and done in an effort to prevent Bulshar from rising back to power… Or had it been a ruse? Had she known a way to destroy the ring after all and she had been delaying them long enough for him to get there? “Mattie!?”

There was a disconcerting, blank hopelessness to Mattie’s eyes as she reluctantly lifted her head enough to meet her own briefly.

“It just took a bit of gentle persuasion, a deal made… The how and why doesn’t matter, Pup,” he waved a hand dismissively. “Just know that the Blacksmith now belongs to Bulshar. An improvement over Constance too… prettier and so far less psychotic.” He giggled. “And her work is second to none as I’m sure you won’t appreciate. Put the collar on her!”

“No!” Nicole strained against her bonds and the fierce grip on her hair that Bobo had to keep her head still as Mattie stepped forward with a thick collar clasped in her hands. The exterior was leather but Nicole could clearly see that that was just an attempt at window dressing to hide the silver tipped spikes that lined the inside.

“I’m sure you’ve already guessed, Pup but just in case you’re as thick most cops are… If you’re a naughty puppy and try to change, those nice spikes there won’t give. They will dig in and you will just end up making a mess of the floor with your blood… or maybe your head will just roll off your shoulders like it did to poor Lou when Bulshar tested it out.”

Grasping her by the jaw, Bobo leaned into her, his teeth snapping together as he thought about biting down and ripping out her throat. “Really, I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens,” he hissed against her ear. “I would hate for you to ruin Bulshar’s plans though so think about baby Earp and your brats, and be a good little puppy.”

Nicole glared at Bobo as he stepped out of sight, his fist still clenched in her hair as Mattie stepped closer. There was regret in her eyes but it didn’t stop her from placing the collar around her neck. Nicole could tell that she was desperate to say something but Bobo was too close, as was the other robed figure.

As Mattie leaned closer to fasten it off at the back of her neck, the movement digging the spikes into her flesh, Nicole bore the pain through gritted teeth and whispered softly, “Gretta?”

“I- don’t know.”

Nicole caught the almost broken look in Mattie‘s face as she drew back and knew that whatever had happened, Mattie was only trying to keep her sister safe and Nicole couldn’t really hate her for that when she knew there was nothing she wouldn’t do to keep her family safe.

“Is it secure?”

As Mattie drew back, Nicole felt her fingers run along the edge of the collar and with it the barely perceptible loosening of it as she removed something from the inside.

“Well?!”

“Yes. It’s done.”

“Good… That means we don’t need you anymore!”

“No!” Nicole cried out a warning but as with everything else it was too late. Before Mattie could move, Bobo had slipped behind her and grabbed her. A kick to the back of her knee and a harsh push sent her sprawling to her knees in front of Nicole. Nicole strained futilely as Bobo grabbed Mattie by the hair and pulled her head back, exposing the long line of her throat to the blade he suddenly had bared in his hand.

Her flesh parted. A wash of red flowing out of the gaping maw in pulsing waves to cover her skin and drip on to the floor. And once more, Nicole was helpless to do anything other than watch as Mattie mouthed her sister’s name as the life slipping from her brown eyes.

“Check that collar!” Bobo watched in delight as his companion quickly did as he’d ordered and tightened it until blood oozed from around the edges of the spikes digging into her flesh. Her eyes glared at him, promising death and destruction if she got the slightest chance and he couldn’t have that.

He let the Blacksmith’s body fall to the floor and looked down at it and the pool of blood it lay in. “Ohhh, I’m sorry… did that bring back some memories for you?” He knelt down in front of Nicole and wiped the blade of his knife clean on her pants. “Tell me, was it as good as when I killed your Mama?” Her eyes left the blade at his words and flashed with red as they bored into his. Oh, but it was going to be so satisfying to finally break this one! “Think how much more it will hurt when I slit young Waverly’s throat in front of you.”

Bobo stepped back hurriedly, almost tumbling over the Blacksmith’s body as Nicole roared out her anger and thrashed against the chains holding her in check. The chair creaked and groaned under her rage, the wood starting to splinter despite the chains that were supposed to sap her strength.

“Silence her for me!”

Nicole was so focused on getting to Bobo and ripping his throat out that she had forgotten that there is even another person in the room until a hand grabbed her throat. Unbreakable, unyielding in a way that triggered a memory, the hand pressed the spikes harshly into her flesh, burning her with the silver as they pressed her back in the chair.

The bolts holding it in place creaked and groaned until they finally gave and the chair tilted back.

Despite the burning pain, Nicole fought, straining with all her might to get at Bobo and rip his smiling face off!

Nicole froze in shock momentarily as the figure holding her threw back the head of her cloak and she was met by another familiar face… Jolene!

The shock of the distraction was just enough for Jolene to grab a vial from her robe and pop the top off of it before Nicole could start struggling again. Adjusting her hold she dug her fingers into Nicole’s jaw and forced her mouth to open enough to pour the thick red contents of the vial into her mouth.

Nicole strained against the control of Jolene’s hand as the viscous liquid coated her mouth and tongue, choking as it seemed to work its way into her throat with a purpose despite her efforts to spit it out.

“You should have just eaten the cupcake, Sheriff. That would have been much easier on you.”

Jolene smirked as the Wolf screamed in agony as her potion worked its way inside. Taking her over. It really would have been easier on her. Sweetened as it had been, all it would have taken was a couple of tasty treats and it would have worked so easily… Raw like this was probably more akin to swallowing liquid silver for the wolf… Such a shame, she would have made a lovely pet too. But after the trouble she and her mate had caused her, it was almost as sweet as spun sugar and just as satisfying to see the tendrils of magic working their way up under the pale skin of her face towards her eyes.

They flowed across the whites of her eyes, turning brown to red as they burned away everything good within her.

And finally there was silence as Nicole went limp within her bonds and her screams ended.