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| Jackson |
The hunters left in groups of four. They went with their weapons and traps; some were on foot, and others took the jeeps they'd loaded with chains. Jackson had no idea what their plans were, but he could assume that they were setting up a perimeter around this camp. They were going to use him for bait, right? And they hadn't moved him, so that was all that made sense.
Jackson still didn't feel great, but he felt better than earlier. He could move his body a little more now; he sat up, but the fact that he couldn't lean his back against the silver bars made it hard for him to stay up for long.
He waited until the last group of hunters left. Once their jeep departed, he sat up on his hands and knees and looked at the growling muto. "Wilson," he called, keeping his voice hushed. Lieutenant Lewis didn't leave with his men, and Jackson didn't want to wake him up and make him come out of his tent.
Wilson stopped glaring into the trees and stared across the camp at Jackson. "I'm gonna get us out of here," he told him.
"But...it's silver," Jackson replied. "Neither of us can break it, right?" He wasn't actually sure if silver was toxic to muto.
The tiger snarled quietly and shifted his sights to Sebastien. "We need him."
However, the winged hound hadn't said a word since Jackson woke up—the guy hadn't even moved. The silver chains binding him were still sizzling against his skin, and Jackson could swear he could now smell his burning flesh.
What were they going to do? They had to get out of there while the hunters were gone. Jackson wasn't going to let them use him as bait, but there wasn't much he could do against silver. He looked down at the floor; his ass wasn't burning, so maybe the floor of the cage was made of something else.
Jackson hastily glanced around, and when he spotted that one of the corners of whatever the floor was made of was bent upwards, he shuffled towards it and tried pulling it away. It hurt his body, but he couldn't let that slow him down. There was no telling how much time he had.
"What are you doing?" Wilson called.
"Trying...to...see," he grunted, tugging, "if I can...get out...through the floor—"
The material gave way and tore. Jackson fell back, his head hit the floor, and he groaned painfully. But there was no time to complain. He hurried back to the corner; however, what he saw made all his dismay come flooding back in. The floor beneath the material he lay on was silver.
He scowled sullenly and returned to sitting in the middle of his cage.
"What?" Wilson called.
"It's silver," he grumbled.
The tiger made an irritated sound and started looking around. "There has to be something."
"There's not," Jackson said despondently. "We're just gonna have to sit here like idiots." What was the point of lying to himself?
Wilson growled quietly as he paced around inside his cage. "The silver doesn't burn me like it does you guys, it just makes me as weak as a fucking human. Maybe I can...try busting the lock or—"
"It won't work, Wilson," Jackson muttered hopelessly. "Just face it. We're stuck here."
"What the hell's wrong with you, Jack?" Wilson asked, staring across the camp at him. "Usually, you'd be coming up with a hundred ideas of how to get us out of this place, but you're all...mopey and depressed."
Jackson rolled his eyes in frustration. "Well, what the fuck am I supposed to be coming up with, Wilson? Even if Sebastien wasn't chained up in there, he wouldn't be able to do anything. We're all weak against silver. There is literally nothing any of us can do but sit here and hope that Damon figures out what the hunters are doing."
Wilson scoffed. "And how's he gonna work that out, huh? Does he have a third eye? Can he make little predictions or prophesies like Mr Billionaire Lord Caedis? And speaking of, where the hell is he? Where the hell are his Venaticus people? Because weren't they supposed to be dealing with all these fucking hunters so we could find this dumbass lab? Why isn't he out here looking for it? He's a fucking god; he can make shit out of nothing and teleport around the world. Why send us?!" he exclaimed, pacing again.
He only started ranting and pacing when he was anxious. Jackson knew Wilson understood just as well as he did that there was no way out of this.
"Lord Caedis is fighting a war, Wilson," he told him with a sigh. "And we're out here trying to help him. It's all connected. We're all he has to spare right now. But look at us." He gestured at his cage. "Some help, huh?"
Wilson huffed irritably. "Okay, well...why not teleport us to Greykin Valley? Why drop us off at the roadside and leave us to walk there?"
He had a point. If Lord Caedis could teleport people...well, could he? "I dunno if he can teleport others," he mumbled.
"Of course he can, dude. He can do whatever he wants. He could have just made a portal or whatever and dropped us in at the valley, but no! Here we goddamn are," he exclaimed, holding out a paw.
Jackson sighed and rested his arms on his legs. "It's not Lord Caedis' fault, Wilson. He did everything he co—"
"Did he, though?"
He frowned but tried his best not to lose his patience. Sometimes, he really hated when Wilson was like this. "Do you really think that if he could have teleported us, he wouldn't have? This hybrid-making stuff is linked to those Diabolus people, right? The Nosferatu are at war with them, so this is probably one of the most important operations they have going at the moment. I truly think they gave us everything they could spare. I mean...they even let me keep that demon amulet—the Zenith's amulet. That thing is a piece of his power."
"Yeah, all of that just makes me feel like they could have done more."
Jackson rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Wilson. I don't know what else I'm supposed to say."
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe something about how that so-called Alpha of yours had no idea we were being followed by—"
"Hey, this has nothing to do with Damon!" he interjected, scowling over at him. "None of us could have known they were coming. They were wearing silver."
Wilson grumbled, "He should have had scouts or whatever behind us."
"In case you didn't notice, there are only fourteen of us left. Half of Damon's pack is gone—more than half. Keeping everyone close together in case something happens is the best call," Jackson argued.
"How would you even know that? You've been one of them for what? Two weeks?"
Jackson scowled again. "Stop being such a dick."
"Stop defending everyone who could have helped us avoid this."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Jackson uttered.
"You don't know!" Wilson exclaimed. "You didn't even remember the Caeleste world existed until two weeks ago!"
Jackson went to snap back, but he didn't even know what he was going to say. Wilson was being a jerk, but he had several good points. What did Jackson know? He hadn't been a wolf walker long enough to comment on Damon's orders or actions, nor did he know enough about the Caeleste world, either. Despite the perception filter being gone, he hadn't remembered much else. He didn't know anything about the Nosferatu Diabolus war other than what he'd been told, and he had no idea what Lord Caedis was actually capable of.
He frowned sadly and looked at his lap. "This is all my fault," he mumbled.
"What?" Wilson called.
"You're right. I don't know what I'm doing or talking about. If I did, then maybe I wouldn't have gotten shot. And if I didn't get shot, then Sebastien wouldn't have had to carry me out of there, and you wouldn't have come after us when whatever happened."
"He was shot out of the sky, like a pigeon."
Jackson frowned and looked over at him to see that he looked just as amused as he sounded. "You think that's funny?"
Wilson sat down and smirked. "A little."
"Hey!" came Lieutenant Lewis' voice from inside the tent. "Shut the fuck up before I send you back to sleep!"
Jackson tensed up and stared at the tent, expecting the guy to come out with his shotgun, but he didn't. The fact that he'd been able to say as much as he just had also made him think that Lewis was trying to get some sleep of his own. But before he could convince himself that could be an advantage for him and Wilson, he remembered that there was no way out of their cages.
He sighed and turned his attention to the trees. Maybe Damon was out there somewhere thinking of a way to get him out. Perhaps the hunters that left to place their traps were already dead. But he hadn't heard anything. No growls or howls or gunshots.
Sebastien suddenly grunted.
Jackson sharply turned his head to look at the winged hound and watched as he came around.
Sebastien flinched and shuffled as the chains binding him clinked. He started panicking, trying to break free, and when he thrashed around and managed to turn to face Jackson, he stared at him in confusion.
"W-we're in a hunter camp," Jackson told him.
"And apparently there ain't no way out," Wilson called from his cage.
With a grunt and a grimace, Sebastien's shining blue eyes darted around the camp. "J-just...us?" he asked, his voice nothing more than a murmur.
Jackson nodded. "I don't know where everyone else is. But..." he paused and frowned sullenly. "These hunters said they were gonna use me as bait to catch them."
The hound snarled and tried to get up, but the chains kept him lying on his side. He even tried to pull his wings free, but it looked like they were so tightly bound to his sides that he'd surely break them if he tried too hard.
"So, I guess this means we're fucked, right?" Wilson asked, watching Sebastien, too. "I was hoping that when you woke up, you'd have some kludde trick to get out or use something you learned from Caedis or the Venaticus. Guess I was wrong."
Sebastien growled irritably. "Can you shut your mouth?" he exclaimed, glaring at him. "You talk so fucking much."
Wilson responded with an aggravated growl.
The ruffle of blankets came from inside the tent, and moments later, Lewis burst out with his shotgun and waved it around as he yelled, "I told you fucking freaks to shut the fuck up!" He kicked Sebastien's cage. "The next time I hear any of you, I'm skinning the fucking cat!"
Jackson shivered as he glanced at Wilson.
"Not a fucking peep!" Lewis shouted. Then, he turned around and stormed back into the tent.
"Asshole," Sebastien grumbled but then winced painfully. He shifted his sights to Jackson. "Don't...say anything. You're the only one of us he can hear. Just...listen...and nod or something, okay?"
Jackson frowned and nodded.
"You see his back pocket?" Sebastien asked.
"See what?" Wilson questioned.
In response, Jackson shook his head.
"His right back pocket," Sebastien muttered, glancing at the tent. "He's got the inimă."
Jackson frowned harder. So what if Lewis had the inimă? He couldn't use it, not while in this silver cage.
"The Zenith...Zenith's ethos isn't negated by silver," Sebastien told him, struggling. "You...are asmodi, Jackson. You remember...what I said about how asmodi were created, right?"
He thought for a moment...and he did remember. Asmodi were created with both Lord Caedis and the Zenith's ethos.
"There's this...tiny little part...of you..." Sebastien breathed and paused, "that isn't susceptible to silver. You gotta...you gotta find that part, man."
Jackson was still confused. Even if he did have some resistance to silver, wouldn't the weakness to it he got from being a wolf walker negate that?
"Yeah, he's right," Wilson said, nodding. "All being a wolf walker would do is like...make you just as susceptible as an ordinary Caeleste, but it wouldn't cancel out the resistance you get from having the Zenith's ethos."
He had questions; he wanted to be sure, but he couldn't speak. What was Sebastien even trying to say?
The hound exhaled shakily as the chains continued sizzling against his skin. "You gotta...try connect to the inimă, Jackson," he told him, struggling to get his words out.
How the hell was he supposed to do that? He frowned and shook his head, hoping that they'd understand he was confused.
Sebastien got it. "You have a connection to it. You gotta...." He exhaled weakly and closed his eyes, grimacing as his flesh sizzled.
The hound didn't say anything else.
"Sebastien?" Wilson called. "Hey, dude!"
Nothing.
Jackson tensed up as dread raced through him. He wanted to call Sebastien's name, but even if he could risk talking, he knew it wouldn't do any good.
"Jack," Wilson said.
He looked at the tiger.
"You know what to do, right?"
Jackson frowned anxiously as he set his eyes on the tent. No, he had no idea what he was supposed to do. But he had to figure it out. If there was a way for him to get himself, Wilson, and Sebastien out of the camp and away from the hunters before Damon even had to come near, then he'd do his best.
Sebastien said he had a connection to the amulet, and he knew that was because he was an asmodi demon. His species was created using some of the Zenith's ethos, and the inimă was the Zenith's ethos. So, somehow, he had to be able to tap into it. After all, when he killed Kane's wolves a few days ago, he didn't even think about the inimă, yet it attached itself to him. Perhaps what Sebastien meant was that he needed to find out how to make it do that again.
He closed his eyes and concentrated. Maybe it was just like connecting to his own ethos. He remembered what Damon taught him, but instead of reaching within himself, he reached towards the tent—he reached for the inimă. He knew where it was, and he knew what its power felt like, so he kept those things on his mind while he focused.
"Yo, Jack," Wilson called. "You doing it?"
He sighed as he stopped and opened his eyes. Then, he glanced at Wilson and nodded.
"All right," the tiger said.
Jackson closed his eyes again. "Come on," he whispered to himself, focusing on the inimă again. He thought about the rush that consumed him when the amulet wrapped around his neck; he recalled the feeling of intense power that surged through his veins like fire. And all the blood. The tearing flesh, and the fact that in that moment, his rage and desire to kill the wolves who were trying to hurt his packmates had made him stronger. It all turned him into something he'd wished he was all the time. Someone who wasn't weak, someone faster, and an asset to the pack.
The inimă woke up a side of him that had been dormant for years. It made him the creature he was born as—it made him more demon than wolf walker. Jackson wanted to feel that again. He wanted to feel his demon blood, his demon ethos. He found himself craving that powerful surge like his wolf craved the flesh of something living—the blood of someone else.
He scowled when he felt it.
When he salivated at the thought of blood.
Something stirred inside him. But it wasn't his wolf. It wasn't the beast that lived in his body. It was the monster.
The demon.
And it wanted to feed.
Jackson heard something hit the ground a small distance away.
He opened his eyes, and that was when he saw a shimmer of red. The inimă...it was on the floor inside the tent. Had it slipped from Lewis' pocket? Or was Jackson's attempt to connect to it working?
"Jack!" Wilson called excitedly.
He closed his eyes and concentrated. He focused on the feeling of bloodlust, the desire to get out of this cage, kill the people who wanted to harm his friends and get back to Damon.
But it was the blood that possessed most of his thoughts. He wanted to taste it again; he wanted to sink his teeth into whatever he could reach and feast. He was hungry—the creature inside him needed blood, and he was going to do whatever he needed to get it.
Something clanged against the silver bars.
Jackson opened his eyes. He'd been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard Wilson speaking, but as his friend's voice became louder, and the world came back to him, Jackson set his eyes on the inimă.
There it was, right outside his cage.
He scrambled towards the amulet and grabbed it, and the moment it touched his skin, he felt a rush of anticipation spiral through him. The pain in his leg withered, his body began to feel warmer, and as he raised the inimă to his neck, he exhaled deeply.
Whatever happened next...hewas going to make sure he freed his friends, killed every last one of thosehunters, and found Damon.
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