Ablaze Without Flames

Chapter 10, Part 3 - Blaise

Nothingness was surprisingly heavy.

A hum buzzed through Blaise's head as a tightness wrapped around his wrists. He had the sensation of floating, like the pressure in his shoulders and ankles was far away from the gentle freefall of his mind. The pungent scent was still thick in his nostrils but fading fast. With every breath of clean air came more feeling; his fingers tingled and the skin on his face burned faintly. The bruises made themselves known next, across his abdomen and down one side of his ribs. A low groan escaped him.

'...did you say we already have an offer for him?'

'Shut up. He's moving.'

The buzzing cleared into discernible words and, with great effort, Blaise lifted his head towards the noise. Both voices were ahead of him. He took in a breath and forced his eyelids open.

But the world was as black as his mind. The air froze in his lungs, tangling in his throat and he was left wondering where his eyes had gone. A swift pounding in his temple dragged a hiss out of him and he clenched his empty eyelids together, jerking his head to the side as though he could escape the pain.

'Welcome back,' said a third voice, and there was no mistaking this one. Carl paced about somewhere to the left of him.

Blaise's eyes flashed open, the world as black as before, but now he noticed the teasing pinpricks of light through fabric fibres. He was blindfolded; not blinded. Gravity reclaimed a hold on his mind and set his surroundings the right way up. He was sitting on an unyielding chair, his wrists manacled together behind the backrest and his ankles pinned to the front legs.

As the fog in his mind lifted, he could locate the position of all three of them by scent alone. A moving shadow across his blindfold revealed the path of Carl to his left. The other two were several feet away, standing close together and silent. The echoing of footsteps indicated that the room was mostly empty. The floor beneath his feet was hard and cold, some kind of smooth stone.

'You know what's interesting about you, demon?' asked Carl. His words were followed by a mechanical click that Blaise had come to associate with mobile phones.

'My angelic face?' His voice rasped somewhat, the remnants of whatever he had inhaled.

He heard a soft chuckle from the hunter and sensed him move closer. Bony fingertips grabbed and pulled at the edge of his left ear. Blaise set his jaw and willed away the ache in his knuckles. 'You haven't tried to fight us,' Carl mused. 'Not really.' A cold blade tapped against his shoulder, the sharpened edge digging in without drawing blood. 'You certainly demonstrated ability on our first meeting, but I've yet to see any hint of claw or fire from you, fox.'

Blaise had expected it, but the first touch to his tail had every muscle in his body tensed and straining against his binds. A growl rumbled in his chest that he could not quell. Carl twisted his tail around his fingers, grip too tight for Blaise to escape but at the same time sickeningly gentle. 'You see? I know how frail you must feel right now, but still no fire, no claws.' Carl dropped his tail and moved back in front of Blaise. 'What's your secret?'

'I have none.'

One of the hunters standing away from them made a noise like a scoff and was hushed by his friend.

The blade swiped across Blaise's upper arm, and he hissed, looking in the direction of the gash without seeing it. The blood felt hot on his skin. 'Still nothing?' Carl asked. 'I thought it was supposed to be instinctual.'

'I've suffered far worse,' Blaise returned, baring his fangs in a grin.

'So I spotted.' Carl circled around to his left, paused at his back and tore through his shirt with the blade. The shredded fabric fell open around his shoulders and Blaise flinched away from the contact, the joints in his shoulders protesting. The air was cold and damp. He was losing feeling in his feet. Carl clicked his tongue. 'Damaged goods usually mean lower prices, but maybe your history will raise yours. We'll see.' His phone clicked again.