The Kingdom of Deception

Chapter 12

"What do you mean? Who was she released to?" Cathmore stormed into the Serpent's Keep which was a pitiful collection of holding and solitary confinement cells beneath a scuzzy tavern.

He was seething as the guard followed behind him.

"Where is the guard that released her?" He demanded. The incompetent man before him pointed to a younger Nephlim who was perched on a stool against the bar. His eyes widened when Cathmore gripped him by the collar and hauled him backward. "Grogan," he growled.

"What the fuck, man" the guy squealed when he spilled his ale. He jerked free of Cathmore's grip.

"Who did you turn her over to?" He was so mad he was seeing red.

"Who? The fine piece of ass from this morning," the guy whistled through chipped teeth. "She's probably getting what's coming to her by now," the drunken asshole laughed- drooling down his beard.

Cathmore reeled his arm back and landed a cracking punch into the Nephilim's jaw. He took pleasure in watching his bottom jaw disconnect from its natural place, sending the man to the floor.

"She is my charge, she should not have been released to anyone besides me," he bent down to pick the disgusting man up by his collar. He didn't give a shit that everyone watched on in amusement. He landed a punch to the man's gut, causing him to vomit out of the side of his mouth, his jaw hanging freely. "Give me a name," Cathmore growled. "Bennett did not authorize you to release her." His eyes widened, he knew what that meant. He would face the wrath of the Crowned Magister if she was killed by anyone other than her Praeceptor.

He rolled and coughed up more vomit. Cathmore stood and let him crawl into a sitting position, attempting to hold his jaw up into his face.

"Marlowe," he spat at Cathmore who kicked him hard under his chin, sending him unconscious onto his back, the crowd gasping. The amount of blood pouring from his mouth was satisfying but Cathmore fought the desire to revel in the sight of it.

He should have known that the bastard had taken her, he just hoped he wasn't so stupid. He would find her and he would deal the appropriate punishment to Marlowe. He didn't care what the Crowned Magister had to say about it.

He knew he was walking a dangerous line, but he would be equally as mad if it was another one of his students. He had been undermined, someone had taken something that was his.

He pushed his consciousness outward, reaching for any piece of Amara out there but he couldn't feel her. The usual ball of fire, taste of wind that came with her presence in his head- was gone.

***

Darkness faded into a view of Marlowe's wicked grin. Manacles were clamped around her wrists, her knees scraping the ground as her partially limp body was pulled across the aged floor.

Shadows clouded her vision once more. She tried to make out the other voice in the room, tried to focus on the mystery tools that looked out of place mounted on the wall above an old dingy couch. Anger consumed her at her own helplessness.

"I don't want her feet on the ground, further up you idiot," Marlowe snapped at the unknown figure adjusting the chains that held her.

Her head pounded and her vision still faded in and out. She might have thrown up at some point and there was no doubt she had a concussion.

Amara awoke again to excruciating pain in her abdomen, she was definitely suspended by her arms, her feet dangling. She screamed as Marlowe carved something into her stomach with a blade. She looked between him and the dagger in her skin in shock.