"White Tiger"
2013 Copyright © All Rights Reserved.
Stryder Sweetman.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 33
The darkness had become something I was familiar with. I glared at the calendar opposite me on the wall. My captor had fancied the idea of letting me see how long I had been here. He had placed it on the opposite wall, crossing out the days past. He put it over there because he knew that if I wanted to see it, I would have to strain my eyes, and if I did look, I would regret knowing how long I had been here.
2 weeks.
It didn't seem like long, but after hours and hours of agonising torture, bringing me to the brink of death, and then leaving, suddenly 2 weeks felt like years. The only thing keeping me going was knowing that someone was coming. Someone important. I couldn't remember who.
And then there were the visits. There was a boy here, a Rogue. I couldn't remember what the word meant, but it seemed important, so I held on to it. He was called Tristan, and he was 16. He had black hair with blue eyes, and tanned skin. He was neither tall nor thin. Neither buff nor skinny.
He had been making the imprisonment just a little more bearable. He had been one of my guards last week, and every day since then he had been sneaking in to chat. I was rarely able to form a proper sentence, but he still continued to visit, trying to take my mind off of the pain. It was a nice effort, and it did help, if only a little.
He would sit opposite me and tell me about himself, about his life, and about the news outside of this room. He told me of stories he had heard from the other shifters, story of a magnificent white bird, stained with crimson blood, wiping out camp after camp of Rogues with little help from other shifters.
They had named the creature 'Mort Blanche' which was French for 'White Death'. It had created large amounts of terror, though some said the beast had only been around for a few weeks, others said it was a lost spirit, coming for vengeance, a creature told of in tales thousands of years ago. I hoped that if Mort Blanche was real, that perhaps it would rescue me.
But I knew that the creature would end up a legend, it was probably just a tale told to keep my mind off of my latest session with him.
I had never learned the name of the brown-haired, green-eyed man I feared so much. Tristan told me that few in the camp actually knew. Tristan was a kind boy; he had lost his family in some sort of war. My brain was unable to retain the information in its vegetable-like state.
The man who tortured me enjoyed gloating, often speaking of his superiority, but he came in to the room, every couple of days, and would have a look of rage on his face, beating me until his anger had subsided. I hadn't understood his anger, and one day, in my hazy state, I had asked him. I immediately regretted letting the words escape my mouth, as he had gone into a fury, punishing me for asking.
I did, however, find out what was wrong.
He had revealed the reasons behind taking my blood, in a rage he couldn't control. He screamed of how he was taking my blood, copying it, giving it to the Rogues. He had been trying to harness my power to use it for himself. He was trying to copy the structure of my DNA to change his. But he hadn't been able to find anything special. He wasn't able to find anything in my genetic makeup. Thus the anger.
I had been fading out of the haze, coming to my awareness when he told me, so I was able to retain the knowledge. But since the serum was wearing off, I was also able to feel the shock his words inflicted, and the pain his swings caused.
I had fallen unconscious after a while of this. That was where I was then. I had awoken from my unconscious state, and I was staring at the calendar across the room. I had learnt to keep quiet when waking up, to save myself a few extra minutes before he came down to 'chat' with me.
I quietly breathed, trying to keep my breaths steady as if still unconscious, and I looked around the dark room I had already memorised. I already knew there was no place for me to escape. No holes, no missing bricks, no cracks. The only way in and out was the door. My strength was non-existent because of the energy it took to heal; my body bruised everywhere, blood caking my face, arms, torso, and legs.
My skin was either bruised or covered in blood and grime. I just blankly stared across the room, feeling all of the pain in my body wash over me. They brought me food once every two days, a bread bun and a cup of water. This wouldn't last long. If I didn't throw it up, I would cry the water out of my body or burn off the food trying to fight back. I hadn't given up, just accepted that I couldn't do this alone.
Tristan opened the door and quickly closed it behind him, sitting opposite me, and clearing his throat. "You know, I didn't want to become a Rogue." He mused, "I was forced to. When my parents died, they blamed it on me. The Alpha marked me with the soul of a Rogue as he kicked me out of the pack, forcing me to be one. I didn't want to be a Rogue; he forced me to be one. I couldn't even be a Nomad.
"My parents were killed by Rogues on my fourteenth birthday. We were at the park, eating ice-cream as they watched me on my skateboard. They came out of the trees and killed them, leaving me behind.
"I hadn't even shifted, so it didn't make sense that I was a Rogue, but the Alpha accused me of being with them and helping. So he banished me and marked me as a Rogue." I stared at him, and though my brain didn't comprehend his words, some part of me did. For the first time in days, I felt sadness for someone other than myself.
Tears began to roll down my cheeks as the sadness washed over me, for the pain he must have gone through. "The marking caused an early shift. A week after they died, I shifted for the first time. I guess my Primary Shift, Moui, knew that I needed his help, because I wouldn't survive without him." He paused for a while, just sitting there. "Moui is a wolf, but he has a really cool pelt. It's black with red streaks." I could hear the pride in his voice.
My lips curved into a small smile, but I didn't know why. I figured that Tristan's words meant something. Through the haze, I noticed him stand up and walk to the door, "Good luck." He whispered, before leaving. I just stared blankly ahead, knowing that I would be greeted by him any minute now. As if on cue, his footsteps echoed through the room as he walked down the stairs to my prison. He took his time, adding in an evil chuckle as he entered the doorway. "Ben, sweetie, I think since you're awake, we'd better get started!" He taunted, pulling out the blood kit.
Jason
It had been 2 weeks since Ben had left. We had few suspects, in fact, only two remained. Her parents' killer and Ophelia Ravine. Ophelia hadn't given us reason to suspect her involvement, but she also hadn't given us reason not to. She had no alibi, we had no proof. She had a motive, we had no evidence. And with the murderer, we had little to go off. Ben's parents had been slaughtered by a group of Rogues, like mine, head hunters that enjoyed the thrill of killing older bloodlines of shifters.
We didn't have a lead on what Rogue clan it was, but we did finally get some more Rogue camp locations out of the prisoners. We had officially 'extinguished' six camps, and we were shocked to see so many Rogues gathered in one area, without the detection of the pack.
The official fighting group consisted of Willow, Kazak, Morte and I. This was because Willow had skill, Kazak had strength, Morte had agility and I had a great amount of motivation. We had figured out our fighting formations, positions and ranks around the third time we went to a Rogue camp. Kaz would cause a distraction whilst Willow and I rushed in to begin fighting. Morte would cover any escapees and save our backs.
Willow had taken the lead as she deemed me 'mentally unfit' at this time to lead. I was ok with this arrangement, because it meant I had more time to focus on my missing mate. Griffon had stopped talking to me, but allowed me to shift when necessary. I was confused, but put it down to his pain over our loss.
When I had found the first Rogue camp, I went into a blinding rage. All I could see was red, my body moved without my consent. By the time the red faded from my vision and I could think clearly, I noticed that the camp was a wreck. Pillars of smoke filled the area, fire burning it's way through the small tents. The grass was covered in blood and scattered bodies, a couple of injured survivors next to each other on the ground.
I was shocked that I was able to keep prisoners alive during my state, but moved on from it and took them back to the pack house. Camp after camp fell, and though I didn't feel any satisfaction, I felt the growing knowledge that we were getting closer to Benina.
I was in the office with my Uncle William, and we were throwing theories around. "How could she have not communicated with us? If she were dead, I would know, if she was in a coma, Libeth would be able to communicate with us. It doesn't make sense!" I growled, slamming my fist on the table, "You're the only shifter I know who has invented a serum capable of cutting off the bond between shifter and Primary Shift, but I suppose someone else could've made one."
"Of course." He said calmly, craning his neck so he could stand taller than me. His blonde hair was cropped back, army-style. That was something he would do a lot, as a show of dominance. I wouldn't have paid it any attention, but Ben had recently made me think about his controlling nature.
I stood a little taller. "Who could make a serum like yours? Rogues shouldn't have the connections to find the ingredients!" I snarled.
He frowned, "How am I supposed to know?" he said defensively.
I quickly spun on him. "Where could they find the ingredients? Where did you find yours? Have you told anyone the recipe?"
"I-I don't know anything." He avoided my gaze.
I leapt across the room, the irritatingly pointless session quickly escalating into a fight. "Stop lying! Tell me. Now." I ordered.
He hissed through his teeth, pushing me backwards and to the floor, his eyes briefly flashing red. He was not used to me disobeying him. "I will not take orders from you!" He snarled, "I became Alpha because I do not follow others! I chose to be higher! I deserved to be higher! Little orphans like you can't order me around!"
I got to my feet and glared at him, dusting myself off. I was hurt by his 'orphan' comment, "No, you became Alpha because my parents were murdered."
If I had have continued to look at his clenched fists, I wouldn't have noticed the paling of his face and the shock. But I was looking at his face.
"Yes, uh, that's what I meant. I was the next in line, so obviously it would be my duty." He stammered quickly. His calm façade quickly faded.
My eyes narrowed, "No, I don't think that's what you meant at all, Will." I snarled, "You wanted to be Alpha. You seem a little more comfortable talking about their death."
"What are you accusing me of?" He asked, half angry, half scared.
"Now that I think about it, you never did give us proof that the Rogues you killed were the murderers, and they seemed a little too willing to die for you!" I hissed, stalking toward him, the theory already forming in my mind, "If they were working for you, then they still could be. Maybe it's not someone else giving Ben the serum. It's you! You are working with the Rogues!"
That was when his self-preservation instincts kicked in. William's eyes narrowed and he tensed, leaping toward me, reaching for my throat. I flicked my leg up and caught him in the chest, knocking the breath out of him as he fell backward into the wall. Willow burst in, hearing the impact. She quickly grabbed my arms, pulling them behind me in an arrest hold. "He killed my parents." I spat out.
"No, he didn't, it's ok. You're emotions are on a high and you're overreacting because of Benina's disappearance." Willow hissed, holding me still as I struggled.
Ben. I turned to stare William in the eye. "You had everything to do with this, didn't you?" I asked, hatred filling my tone. "You were all too willing to listen to our plans. The Rogue camps had gotten away just before we could get to them? Isn't that a little too much of a coincidence? Like they had a warning?"
Willow's grip loosened as she saw William's reaction. He began to laugh. Not a humorous chuckle, but a dark, frightening, insane laugh. He turned to look at us, an evil grin on his face. "Always so clever, right, Jason? Always so bright. You got your wit from mummy and daddy. Though it is quite a shame they weren't as clever as me." He chuckled again, as if we were talking about the weather.
Willow had now released me; I darted across the room, slamming William against the wall holding him by the throat. "Where is Ben?" I snarled, watching as his face began to redden from lack of air.
He stayed quiet, scratching at my hands, before they fell to his sides, and he became unconscious. I dropped him on the ground in disgust, turning to Willow. "He invented a shot a while ago, one that could prevent shifting, cut off communication between human and Primary Shift temporarily. I bet this is why Ben hasn't been able to contact us. Get Nixon on the phone. He specialises in this. He can come back a few days early." I ordered.
I thought over all of the hints, the clues I should have seen. My uncle seemed all too happy to take over the pack, not a tear was shed over the loss of my parents. He had spent years torturing shifters 'in the name of justice'.
He would go to 'business meetings' every few weeks, coming back with the faint scent of blood on his clothing. I had once asked him about the scent of blood. He had quickly said something about a 'small misunderstanding'. Now I understood that he had been murdering innocents, feeding his hunger for blood.
My uncle was a Rogue in disguise the whole time, corrupting the pack, killing my parents, and now, he had my mate. I didn't know how I'd missed the signs. His eyes flashed red when he was angry, he was always a little too comfortable killing, and he never really thought like part of the pack.
He would pay for this.
I turned to the door to see that now Jeremy had arrived, Morte on his shoulder. She flapped her wings and flew on to my shoulder, trying to comfort me. The reason Benina was unable to contact us became clear. She was under the influence of William's drug, unable to reach Libeth, unable to shift, unable to connect the mind-link.
The drug was designed to incapacitate the Primary Shift, severing all bonds with pack members, removing the ability to shift, and fog the mind of the victim. Some versions of the serum would incapacitate the shifter, making their body unable to move, but still capable of feeling pain.
The captors would also have access to the variety of torture weapons invented by my Uncle, and any other items I was unaware of. If this wasn't already hard, it was going to get harder. I just wanted my mate back.
Willow entered the room, a dazed and worried look on her face. "What's wrong?" I asked. Jeremy wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder.
She nodded in thanks at his gesture and turned to give me a disbelieving look. "I called the pack and asked for Nixon, apparently they never called for him, and he never arrived." She said shakily.
"You mean he was kidnapped too? Two weeks ago? And no one knew?" I cried. This was getting worse and worse.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So I decided to give you guys the last chapters.
Whaaaaaat?
His Uncle's Rogue?
Who saw that coming?
COMMENT
VOTE
FOLLOW
Stry :)
AND ALSO
White Tiger is finally up for sale, only 3.99 USD! Please help me out here and save up 4 bucks? It would really help me out, and you can have your own copy of White Tiger!
Here is the link for the book:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/380490
You can download it on all sorts of files. I really appreciate your support.
Thank you so much, and i hope you all enjoy my future books! I love you!
StryderSweetman.