Raptio: The Ritual Abductions of Humans by Werewolves

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

(Amalia’s POV)

Anger seethed and foamed in my chest, making it heave as if I’d just run a 5km. The contents of the book had shocked me to my very bones and had spurned me onto a witchhunt for Eric.

A witch-hunt? Ha, how relevant.

The surprise at my outburst in Eric’s face had transformed to one of understanding and more importantly, the expression of someone who was about to spill their guts.

‘First of all.’ Eric began. ‘That book was written around 300 years ago, in Europe, so it’s context and tone is very much related to the desperate and brutal reality that the author and others at that time faced.’

‘I know what I read Eric,’ I snapped.

Eric sighed, running a hand through his hair.

‘Okay, let me start from the beginning. You know about witch-hunts or I should more appropriately call them supernatural hunts.’

I nodded, wishing for him to continue.

‘They were strife in Europe, it was a troubling time. The soldiers of Christendom were capturing all the lands that werewolves and other supernaturals alike roamed free and in peace.’

‘Hold on,’ I interrupted. ‘Soldiers of Christendom? That was mentioned in the book, who are they?’

Eric smiled, seemingly pleased at my curiosity. ‘They consider themselves soldiers of God. But they are really humans who fight for a higher unknown calling and have belief and take solace in the words of a book written by men in dresses.’

‘You speak about them as if they still exist.’

‘That’s because they do still exist. There’s several different organisations in the world. I will explain them to you but to tell their story, I have to tell you ours.’ He pleaded.

‘Okay, go on.’ I gulped. Eric’s hands grabbed mine and pulled me down to sit at the chair beside him. Once I was settled, he carried on.

‘It was horrid. The weakest were always caught, tortured, maimed, brutalised. Hung, burned, drowned. The atrocious acts that they committed to some is to vile too be written down.’

‘That’s dreadful.’ Hot tears ran down my cheeks and I felt nauseaous at the images of cut up, scorched, grotesque fleshed bodies invaded my mind. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to somehow shut it all out. It wasn’t working till I felt the delightful feeling of somebody holding my cheeks. I opened my eyes to see Eric, gazing at me with wonder.

‘How can you be so compassionate and empathetic, when you hate us werewolves?’ His face look pained.

What was I to say to that? That I didn’t hate him. Hatred was never an issue. At first, fear and thoughts of escape forever stayed in my mind. As time passed on, frustration, but still thoughts of escape stayed in my mind. At that moment, I realised I hadn’t thought about running away since this morning, when before it was on my mind at every waking hour, even in my sleep.

‘I don’t hate werewolves. I just don’t like what you did.’ I whispered.

‘I know. I don’t like it either.’ He said, now smearing away the tears with his thumbs.

‘Then why do it?’

Eric’s face blanked, as if he was thinking of some past incident.

‘I had no choice. Didn’t you read the book?’

I scowled and crossed my arms at his stupidity.

‘Do you really think I could read a 400 page book in less than an hour?’