Nomad {Editing}

::Chapter 6:: Danger in the Shadows

Charlie didn't know where he was, what had happened or who he was with.

There were only two things that he did know.

He had to get out of here.

It would be a fight he did alone. Arthur was nowhere to be scented.

The darkness was still there, fighting him to let go. It knew he was scared, terrified. It was trying to convince him of the worst. Make the fear worse and make him lose everything which made him human.

Broken, bruised and bound. A bag over his head leaving him blind, and binds around his wrists rendering him helpless.

It took him everything that he had to make sure that it didn't happen.

Forcing himself to his feet, he received nothing but a blow to the back of the head for trying. Charlie cried out, a snarl echoing from his throat. Despite the bag over his face, he turned, trying to bite into anything he could find.

Again, another blow to the back of the head silenced his efforts. The only reward being a sever headache making concentrating even harder.

"Where am I?" No amount of effort could have made his voice sound less desperate then it did. No response, "Where's my brother. What happened?" His voice broke when the next question came to his lips.

"Did I hurt someone?"

The silence was killing him, almost as much as the terror bubbling in his chest was. He may not have known the people he left behind at the church, but that didn't mean they deserved anything he could have done to them. He needed to know, for fear that he would die of the guilt of what could have happened. "Please."

Finally the silence was broken from to the young man's left. However, it wasn't a kind voice, or even one he recognised. "They're dead." Nothing more.

Guilt tore at his every inch, and all he wanted to do was call up into a ball and die. It didn't appear that such was an option. So the young man stayed still as he cried in silence, thankful for the bag covering his face.

After a while, Charlie was very suddenly forced to his legs. Pulling a grunt of surprised from the young man when hands looped around his shoulders and being slammed onto his feet. Staggering for a moment, the strangers allowed him less then a minute to acclimate before they set off.

The group walked silently through the corridors, Charlie stumbling regularly as he struggled to keep up and guess which direction they headed in next. He almost walked directly into the person in front of him when they halted.

"Open the doors," the call went up. Resulting in a great groaning of what Charlie assumed were doors, and then walking again. Charlie heard voices initially, and then an eerie hush as they fell silent.

Charlie didn't need to see to guess that all eyes were on him.

When the group stopped, once again Charlie was forced to his knees. Charlie struggled for a short while, trying to free himself from his binds and put himself in a place where he could protect himself a bit better.

A third blow landed on his head, then the bag was dragged from his head.

Surrounding him were a circle of maybe thirty people. Staring at him as though he had antlers growing from his head, and hatred lighting their eyes.

Every weapon in the room was pointed at his head.

Paranoid. Charlie knew he was good, but this was overboard even for him.

The fact that these strangers knew he was dangerous made him feel more comfortable. Even if it was only a small amount.

At least they knew what to expect.