Chapter 38: A Land Without Magic, Pt 1
Mary Margaret parked her station wagon at Damon's club. In all her years, the number which she couldn't seem to recount, she had never come here. She had heard stories about the things that went on here and never dared to even step foot in this end of town. A group of men that were loitering nearby around a broken down car, smoking cigarettes, let their eyes travel over her in a leering, hungry manner. She shivered, but walked toward the door with determination. No one was going to stop her from finding her husband. She had never thought Regina would allow there to be such in her town, but she supposed every town had sights like this, even Storybrooke, where the unsavory gathered. The Rabbit Hole seemed classy compared to this place.
She walked in and her eyes were immediately assaulted by the color red. It was everywhere and not a cheerful red like she might wear to compliment her dark hair and fair skin. But a blood red that set the hairs on the back of her neck on end.
"Welcome Mary...I'm so glad you have finally arrived. This will soon be your new home, after all," Damon leered, as he leaned against the bar.
"Where is my husband?" she demanded to know.
"Your husband barged in here very rudely earlier. He tried to tell me that I couldn't see you anymore...and that just didn't do for me," he replied.
"What have you done to him?" Mary demanded to know again.
"Oh nothing yet...I've been waiting for you so we can commence with his execution," Damon stated, as two men dragged David in from the back room.
"David!" Mary cried, as she started toward him, but Damon grabbed her arm and held her back. Her husband was sporting a purple bruise on his cheek and there was dried blood on his face, coming from a cut on his forehead. His shirt was torn open and she could see bruises on his chest and torso.
"The boys got a little rough, but he wasn't being very cooperative," Damon said. Mary felt overwhelming anger at this man burning in her. Anger was rarely an emotion she had truly let herself feel, but this man had just kept pushing her to feel so many negative things. The timid, meek Mary Margaret Blanchard had never hated anyone...except this man. Regina had come close at times, but never like this. He had stalked her for years, made her feel uncomfortable under his possessive gaze, and never took no for an answer.
But the threats he had made against her husband's life had finally pushed her too far and she was determined not to let him get away with it this time. She wound up and punched him in the face. He looked shocked by the power behind her punch, for it was even stronger than the time she had punched him at the Rabbit Hole just weeks ago. He angrily grabbed her arms and threw her down. She hit the floor with a painful thud.
"You Son of a Bitch!" David screamed, as he struggled with his captors.
"You know, I was going to make him watch me take you, but now I think I just want him dead," Damon hissed, as he motioned to the two men.
"Hold her boys..." he ordered, as he picked up a large curved dagger and tested the sharpness.
"Hmm...a dull blade. This might not be as quick as you'd like," Damon threatened, as he walked around behind David, who struggled with his bonds and took a sharp breath, as he felt Damon pull his head back to expose his neck to the knife.
"No...no...please, I'll do anything you want! Please don't kill him!" Mary cried.
"You had your chance for that," Damon hissed, as her eyes locked with David's.
"I love you...and I know whatever life I find myself in next that you'll find me...someday," he told her, as a tear slipped down his cheek.
"If you ever need...anything..."
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