REAPER ─ kaz brekker

fourteen; the reaper never forgets

014;          THE REAPER NEVER FORGETS 

ONYX TASTED THE BLOOD BEFORE SHE SAW IT. 

She quelled the panic before it could rise up in the back of her throat. It wasn't much, not nearly comparable to the amount that once wept from the scarring wound on her stomach,  but Onyx couldn't suppress the initial panic and anxiety and unbridled fear that she was teetering within those dark waters once again.  

What ever blindfold they'd once used was gone, as was the darkness and the cold stone floor she had become so accustomed to. Onyx slowly lifted her head. Her entire body was screaming, each muscle contraction sent a swirling, splitting pain up her abdomen and her legs, through her shoulders. She could feel the splitting headache in the roots of her hair. But still,  Onyx forced her eyes open wider, pushed against her body's protests,  and let her eyes rove her new location. 

It was smaller than the room she was in before,  at least from what she could tell. Her ankles were tied to a new chair, one on each of its front legs, and her hands, her wrists, were secured to the top of a slim table. And at the forefront of the table was a mirror,  lit up on either side with two bright lanterns. Onyx blinked, her senses dulled. She slowly twisted her head to the right, then the left. Another identical vanity was on either side. Her mind reeled.  Was this a theatre? Farther down the room, against the back wall, she could just barely make out the outline of a clothing rack. Above it, masks hung on the walls, each from one of the plays from the Komedie Brute. Of all the places Jan Van Eck had at his disposal, Onyx couldn't believe he'd chosen a theatre. 

In the dim light she had at her disposal, Onyx took the time to account and appraise her visible injuries. A thin layer of blood had dried down her chin and over the corner of her lip from two visible, scabbing cuts. A bruise was blooming at the right corner of her jaw and a vicious cut split the middle of her left eyebrow. Most of the damage had been dealt to the rest of her body and would eventually take the form of nasty, ugly bruises. Van Eck must've made sure they didn't aim for the face and head much, lest they kill her before he could gain the upper hand on Kaz or wring information out of her. 

She looked down at her hands next. They were tied separately now, bound to the table at the wrist, palms facing down. If they were any tighter, she wouldn't have had any circulation to them at all.  

Onyx eyed herself and her surroundings once more as her mind began to clear and the pain settled into manageable, dull aches. Van Eck hadn't been able to press her for information before she attacked and attempted her desperate escape. Clearly, he was finished trying to coax information out of her through Bajan's charming comments and pointless small talk of the Dregs and the Barrel and her reputation in Ketterdam as a whole. She wanted to make a plan for herself, but she didn't have one, not a clear one. She didn't know where Kaz would take Kuwei, or even where her friends were now. Sure, she knew the location of a few safe houses he might use, but she knew the locations of several safe houses for several Barrel gangs. Besides, she didn't want to risk accidentally giving Van Eck the right one. 

Her mind was a treasure trove of information for anyone willing to pay the right price, but Van Eck had spent his keep long before they became acquainted on Vellgeluk. 

The door slid open sometime later, after Onyx had reacquainted herself with her injuries and familiarized herself with her bindings. Unlike all the times before, however, it wasn't Bajan entering to deliver a meal. Van Eck strode in first, shoulders thrown back, chin lifted high, as if to force an air of superiority about him. Five armed guards entered after him followed by a sixth that stood out from the rest. He carried several knives, divested of their sheaths and straps, as well as a mallet.