Feared

Fifty-Three: Alterations

Ramsey turned towards her and sighed. "You know it is a pity he is even here. I mean I never wanted him. It was you I had sent for that day in DC. I wanted your alteration, not his". Charlotte's stomach clenched and she pressed her lips together afraid she would betray her anger towards the James she had known, the stranger that had rejected her and towards Ramsey who had created the entire mess from the very beginning. Guilt bloomed in her stomach. James was innocent of this. Everything that had happened to him was because of some need he had to protect her. He had ended up so hurt and alone all because he had wanted to keep her safe.

"It must kill you," he continued, beginning to peal the leather gloves from his pale, long fingers. "Not being able to trust him. Always lying and manipulating you. I really wondered going through his thoughts if he had ever really been honest with you".

"You think you know him," Charlotte whispered, trying to keep the hurt from her voice. "You think you can understand him, because you've searched through his thoughts and memories. You could never understand him, understand us..."

"But I do understand him," he exhaled, dropping one of the gloves to the floor. "I have come to understand everything in his mind. His memories are mine now. His past lives within me. He holds the key to all of this, because he holds you. Every moment you shared with him is up here". He touched his temple and then dragged the other glove from his hands. "I hardly realised what I was tapping into with your friends when I stole their memories. The new world of Kingston, the new alterations that existed. There is so much more for me to take. But first there's you. Your alteration..."

"My alteration would destroy you," she spat, trying to break free from his hold over her. He moved closer with each moment, an arrogant smile on his lips.

"You see that's where James' error aided me. He took your place. I took his memories and he showed me how to control your alteration. He understood it so perfectly, as perfectly as even you, I am sure. All those lessons in Kingston, all those hours you spent learning control. He taught you that. And he taught me too. He showed me what you could do, the true extent of your power. The Exhibition where you used Elmhirst's own fear to fool everybody was... beautiful and I want that..."

He was close enough to her that he could stretch out his fingers and touch her. Charlotte held her breath, her gaze on his hands. Once he touched her he would have more than just her alteration. Using Annakiya's power she would become whatever he wanted her to be. Her true self would cease to exist.

He stopped right before her, inches from her. He smiled smugly, his gaze travelling up and down her body. His hands hovered over her, not yet touching her, but repulsively close. She fought and struggled internally, desperate to regain control over her own body, but his grip was too tight.

"So beautiful..." he breathed, his hands moving towards her cheeks. Charlotte whimpered and then the silence of the room was torn apart by a gunshot. There was a sharp thud in the wall behind them and an explosion of splinters. Ramsey jutted out his jaw, his movements stilling as he tensed. He turned slowly around to find James standing on trembling legs, the gun Ramsey had fired earlier in his grip. James was too pale beneath the blood that marred his forehead. The wall was solid behind him. The vines that had held him had returned to carvings once more. His hand shook as he took aim at Ramsey again. Charlotte felt her body return to her own control and she backed away from Ramsey.

"You don't know when to give up do you?" he hissed.

"You stole my... life..." James whispered, his voice uneven. Charlotte sprinted towards the door. She heaved on the handles, but the door wouldn't budge. She hammered against it as another gunshot ripped through the room.

"Oh James you have no imagination left," Ramsey growled and suddenly James' pained curses filled the room. Charlotte spun around as James sunk to his knees, his back arching, his body contorted by the alteration that had been stolen from him.