Darkness Girl: Trickster God

Chapter Thirteen: Terrors of the Mind

Regan woke up feeling sick. Her mouth felt like it was full of feathers, and there was a dull, insistent throbbing at the base of her skull that seemed to reach up and grip her brain. She lifted her head groggily. The thick, soupy air had a strong smell of motor oil. She tried to put a hand to her eyes and realised that her arms were chained above her head. Slowly, her senses returned. 

Her first impression of her surroundings was rust. Everything around her was grimy and filthy. The institutional grey paintwork had peeled off the metal walls in great sloughs and given way to dirty cascades of rust that stained the walls and formed crusts of brown corrosion around the bolts. 

She was hanging from heavy chains attached to the ceiling. She wasn't sure how long she'd been unconscious, but the sharp ache in her shoulders made her suspect it had been at least a few hours. Beneath her feet was a large drain grate coated in grime. Regan experimented. If she strained, she could just stand on her toes and alleviate some of the pressure on her shoulders. The wound in her thigh ached. Whoever had captured her, they hadn't bothered to have it cleaned or treated. 

The only clean thing in the room was a spotless metal desk sitting against the wall under a large, dark mirror, which Regan guessed would allow people to watch her unobserved. 

She still felt dizzy. Her eyes ached, and whenever she closed them it felt like the room was spinning around her. The dull fluorescent lights had aged until the light they gave off was a feeble urine coloured glow that was barely able to push back the darkness. She heard the sound of heavy hinges behind her and saw the reflection a figure briefly outlined by a doorway in the mirror. 

'Hiya.' 

Trevellian walked around her to the desk holding a leather document case. His footsteps were soft, measured clunks on the metal floor. Regan regarded him silently. When he turned around he jumped theatrically. 

'Such a scary expression!' he laughed. 'I'm surprised you're not asking more questions. Most people are a flood of them.' He waved his hands in the air in a mocking imitation of panic. 'Who are you? Where am I? What's going on?' 

'You poisoned me and chained me to the ceiling. It's probably not a surprise party.' 

'That's undeniably true.' 

Trevellian turned back to the table and opened the document case flat onto the desk. There was a clink of metal on metal as he started to remove things from it and place them carefully on the tabletop. Regan watched in silence for a few moments. 

'I guess this theatricality is supposed to be intimidating?' 

Trevellian laughed. It echoed into the darkness around them. 'This is going to be fun.' 

The door opened again and two more people walked into the room. Regan heard them before she saw them. There was a heavy set man in a suit who had the uncomplicated air of a man employed for his capacity for violence, and a girl in jeans and a hooded jumper who looked like a college arts student. She walked across the room and stood just behind Trevellian's shoulder, subtly putting his body between her and Regan. She looked uncomfortable, even embarrassed, to be there. She had the hood of her jumper pulled up and stood hunched over with her arms folded across her stomach as if she wanted to retreat inside herself like a turtle into its shell. The heavy set man hovered in the gloom. 

'This encounter could become a singularly unpleasant experience if you let it,' said Trevellian. 'I'm just here to find a way to make everyone happy. Happy, happy, happy.' 

Regan glared at him. 'I'm only going to be happy when I kill you, then your big helper, then that frightened little girl behind you.' 

The girl's expression became queasy. She looked like she wanted to back further away, but she was already up against the wall. 

Trevellian laughed. 'I find you refreshing. I've seen people rant and bluster and wheedle, but you're so delightfully direct.' 

'She's thinking about your knives,' said the girl. Her voice sounded like she was whispering, even though she was speaking at full volume. 'She wants to lure you close enough that she can attack you.' 

'Thanks Jordan.' Trevellian flashed the girl a smile that made her blush to the roots of her hair. 

'You brought a psychic,' Regan hissed. 

'She's more than that,' said Trevellian. 'You're going to let her into her mind, and she's going to take something from you. It's going to hurt.' 

'And why the hell would I do that?' 

'Things will get more unpleasant if you don't. Pyotr is, how to put this delicately, sadistic.' 

The large man in the shadows perked up at the mention of his name. 

Regan felt a touch at the edge of her consciousness, like someone brushing past her in a dark room. She looked at the girl, Jordan. There was an expression of serene concentration on her face. 

'I'm giving you a choice,' said Trevellian. 'Which is more than any of your victims ever got.' 

Regan wasn't paying attention to him. Instead, her eyes were fixed on Jordan. 

'There's no advantage for you in resisting,' Trevellian said. 'It will be tiresome for me, but I guarantee it will be intensely painful for you.' 

Trevellian noticed that she was looking past him. 

'What?' he said. 

Suddenly, Jordan's head snapped back in shock. She drew in a sharp, ragged breath and crumpled like she'd been crushed by an invisible force. 

'Jordan!' 

Trevellian ran to her side and placed a hand behind her head. Her eyes were closed, but there was an expression of intense pain on her face. Occasionally she twitched as if she was trapped in a nightmare. 

'Don't just stand there!' Trevellian snapped at Pyotr. 'Get a stretcher.' 

He silently hurried out of the room. Trevellian looked up at Regan, and for the first time he seemed truly off balance. 

'What did you do?' 

'She wanted to get into my mind. I showed her what was in there.' 

'Don't push me, silencer.' 

'It's not my fault your crush has a weak mind.' 

Jordan twitched violently and let out a short cry. 

'You'll kill her!' 

'That's the plan.' 

Trevellian jumped up and took four quick steps across the room. His slap caught Regan on the jaw with enough force to blur her vision and jangle the chains holding her. Behind him, the look of pain melted away from Jordan's face. Regan and Trevellian glared at one another as Pyotr and a healer in a white coat brought in a stretcher and removed the unconscious girl from the room. 

'Who knew you were so dangerous, even without a sword, my frosty angel?' 

Regan gave him an unpleasant smile. 'Are you having fun?' 

Pyotr quietly returned. She could see his bulky form lurking restlessly in the shadows behind her in the reflection of the mirror. 

'I'm going to come back tomorrow,' said Trevellian. 'One way or another, you're going to do what I want.' 

'You've already showed your hand,' said Regan. 'How many trump cards have you got left?' 

Trevellian sighed. 'Do you actually think you won this encounter?' 

He walked out of the room. Regan heard the heavy door close behind him. A pair of large hands gripped the side of her head, fingers pressing into her temples. 

'I'm so glad we can be alone now,' said a deep voice. 'I was afraid we'd never get to start.'