Down below

Chapter 27.

   Loki regained consciousness with a panicked scream. It was pitch dark, he smelled wet ground. He tried to get up, but he was too weak, his wounds burning so badly, he fell back down, agony washing over him.

"Elianah? Elianah!" he shouted silently through their mental bond, but his head throbbed painfully at the strain and he passed out again.

   He felt something cold gently padding against his forehead.

'Elianah?' he asked, opening his eyes, unable to focus from the pain.

'Don't move. That beast injured you badly.'

   Loki flinched, alarmed. He knew that velvety voice and it meant nothing good.

'Where am I?' he asked, trying hard to focus.

'You are in one of my underground lairs. Now rest.'

'I don't need rest, bloodsucker. I have to go and...'

A cold hand came pressing down on his mouth.

'Don't make me regret saving you, God of Mischief. Rest!' the Marquis purred imperiously and as if in a trance, Loki's body obeyed the order, drifting off to sleep.

   He had weird dreams, hallucinations. He saw his mother, calling for him in a sunlit garden with tears in her eyes. She extended her hand towards him, but he couldn't move, he was just staring at her, telling her not to worry. He saw Thor and Fandrall drinking in some pub, then hollering at him, but when they poured him some ale, it turned to blood. They didn't seem to notice and raised their cups to toast, their lips stained with blood as they drank. Loki's stomach turned and he retched, then he was in Elianah's apartment. She was dancing toward the bedroom, pulling off her clothes one by one with a seductive smile. He tried to talk to her, ask her what happened, but she disappeared into the room and when he entered, that tall, dark man was there and she was kissing him hungrily. The stranger was staring at Loki with a sneer, his hands around Elianah's waist in a tight embrace.

'He's delirious. He's not getting any better.' Loki heard a melodious, female voice.

'And what do you want me to do about it? I'm not a doctor. The bleeding did slow down though which is a good sign.' the Marquis replied.

'Have you tried giving him your blood?'

'I tried. His body rejected it. You know what he is.'

'That's not possible. The God of Mischief...'

'Any less possible than Cerberus or vampires for that matter? 'the Marquis argued.

'Bon, d'accord.' the female conceded.

Silence fell. Loki tried to open his eyes to see if they were still there when the woman spoke again.

'All you can do is keep his wounds clean. Tell the doctor to change the bandages every two hours the next two days.'

   Loki passed out again, he wasn't sure for how long. He woke up to his arms aching and when he lifted his hands to check the damage, a sharp hiss escaped his mouth due the pain the movement caused. He could hear classical music playing quietly. He looked around, feeling relieved that his eyesight was back to normal. He was in a lavish bedroom. The walls carpeted by black wallpaper with elegant motives, a white crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and white marble statues decorating the walls. He was lying in a massive poster bed with lavish pillows, covered in fine black silk bedding. The door was on the left side from an imposing black wardrobe with glass doors. He knew he was staring at his own reflection, but the sight was miserable. Both his arms were bandaged along with his torso. His hair must have been washed, but it was still messy and the left side of his face had claw marks. There was a catheter coming out of his right arm and sensors attached to his chest, he saw similar gadgets attached to severely injured people in a film they watched with Elianah. He was wondering how long he had been unconscious. The handle turned quietly and the door opened, the Marquis stepping into the room.