(3) Painstaker

Eleven: Secrets

My first instinct was wrong. Eagerly, I wrapped both hands around the bars, instantly hearing, smelling, and feeling the burn of them. They had to have been coated with wolfsbane. Gritting my teeth instead of yelling out in pain, I held my red hands close to my chest. Damn, that hurt.

Zeke reached for the hands, shooting me a stern look when I tried to pull away. He flattened his palms on both of mine. Slowly, the pain began to leave my hand, replaced with a gentle tingling. It didn't click into my brain until he was already pulling away.

Gawking down at my hands, which were half as red as moments before, I gasped. "What the hell did you just do?"

"No time to explain. We need to save your friend." Zeke plucked a key out of his pocking and, with a simple smile on his lips, unlocked the door and shoved it open with his shoulder. He ignored my look of astonishment as he knelt beside Sam. "Can you stand?"

Sam's head lolled forward, although he managed a brisk nod.

"Move your hand. I can close the wound." Zeke gently removed Sam's hand over what looked like a bullet wound in his chest. It had to have missed his heart by mere inches. Then, with the hands that had somehow taken my pain away moments before, he planted them over the wound and pressed down. I narrowed my eyes, trying to catch anything off, but I didn't see anything. Only his hands pressed against dried and new blood. No sparks. No mist. Nothing. My initial thought was magic user, but that didn't make sense. Magic could usually be seen, only sometimes. They were, however, always felt.

I felt nothing coming off of him. When he moved his hands away, the wound wasn't bleeding anymore. Secrets. So many secrets.

"A new trick," was all he offered me.

Sam was despondent, only using movements that were necessary. Zeke and I took both sides as we hauled his massive body to stand. Testing, I stepped away first, then Zeke, to see if he was stable. Sam's legs wobbled, yet he did not fall. In fact, he barely lifted his heads, eyes downcast to the blood staining the ground. It was old blood. A werewolf's blood, who probably died here months before.

"Flower's outside," I told him. "She's trying to save you. She doesn't know we're here."

"She won't find a way in," Zeke added. "I assume she'll be circling the mountain, trying to find an opening. She won't. We have to get to her before the others do."

Sam's hands began moving. At first, I thought he was having a seizure or something, but the fluidity of it was too precise. He was speaking to us with sign language. I didn't understand it.

"He's saying to abandon him if we slow him down," Zeke reiterated. "That we need to get Flower out of here."

I glared at Sam. "We came here for you, dumby. Leaving without you would have been a waste of time. Now come on, let's go save your sister."

Sam was slowing us down. I knew it. Zeke knew it. Sam probably knew it too, but it didn't matter. We came here to save his ass, so we would be leaving with him. Him and Flower. These halls, however, did not take away my sight like the last ones. They were dark, dreary, and full of locked up people who barely lifted their heads to catch the disturbance.

"Dara's method of holding hostages is questionable," I gritted as I eyed some that I knew were werewolves. Their clothes were mere scraps, they had to be starving by the look of them, and their eyes... There wasn't any light in their eyes. I don't believe in torture.

From my peripheral, I saw Zeke's head snap in my direction. "Really?" He prodded. "How else should she manage her enemies?"

"A truce."