At Your Service

Chapter 12- Representative

 The man standing in front of and above Anja gave her a big smirk as he hung up the phone. He was handsome, but she didn't care; he had blue eyes, brown hair, and fair, freckled skin. He hadn't told her his name yet, and she almost preferred it that way, but she wanted to know his name so she knew who caused the horrific deaths of her parents and the loss of her legs: this man was in charge the night in the warehouse, ordering the other three men with what to do with her and her parents concerning the gasoline, and that's all she needed to know about him.

"You've got one cocky son of a bitch acting as your representative," he sneered, his American accent almost painful in her ears. "Tell me, is it still a household if there's only one member left?" The witch didn't answer on the premises that her mouth was duct taped shut. "I suppose you've got the servants. I'll have Landoff kill them tonight after the main event." She thrashed on the floor, the chains clanking against the marble floor. She would have been able to melt them off or turn them into a more fragile material, but special symbols engraved into the metal prevented her from using magic, indicating to her that there were witches working against other witches, betraying them for the money of witch hunters. They irritated the burns on her wrists. Her legs were the only parts of her that were left free for obvious reasons. Blood from cuts on her face had travelled all the way down her neck to the collar of her black nightgown.

"So, since I have the whole day to monologue to you about my plans for your death, would you like to hear them?" Anja only stared at him with all of the rage in the universe trapped in her eyes. "I thought so." He gave a hearty chuckle. "Now, I thought I'd bring tradition to modern. Follow me." He tugged on the chains, and she had no choice but to be dragged across the floor by her wrists, as if he were an owner taking a dead dog for a walk. He stopped at the large window and grabbed the long top of her undercut and pulled like it was a rope until she was on her knees. "You see that pool?" Anja nodded as she looked down. In the centre of what may have been a gorgeous garden if it was still living, there was a large rectangular pool. It may have been a swimming pool once, but it more closely resembled a pond since nature appeared to have reclaimed it.

"See, in the old days, they threw suspects of witchcraft into ponds and lakes, all tied up like yourself, unable to swim if they were normal. If they saved themselves, they were witches. If they drowned, they were innocent. See, you can't swim because of your legs, and you can't save yourself because of the chains. But, just to make sure I'm thorough, I'm going to light the whole top of the pond with witch's fire so, if you somehow reached the surface, you'd be burned." Anja continued staring down at the pond, one of her eyes swollen and black. "It's wonderful, isn't it?" Anja shook her head slowly and mentally prepped herself for the punch that was to come, which came to her head, knocking her out.

She had no idea how long she'd been down for. When she looked out the window, it appeared to be afternoon.

"All of you fucking witches think you're so far above humans and think you can replace everything with magic, but you will always need us more than we will ever need you," he suddenly hissed. "You think you're the only ones who can heal, who can create things, who can make miracles happen, but-"

"Sir." Anja looked up. The walkie talkie clipped to the man's belt had a light glowing green while receiving the call.

The man sighed before unclipping the walkie talkie and bringing it up to his mouth. "What?" he spat.

"We've got some waiter-looking-ass dude walking towards the gate." Anja tried to say something, but her lips were sealed, so it was only a little hum. "He's armed with..." There was some jumbled murmuring amongst the other guards. "Are those... I think he's got fire pokers, sir!" the guard shouted, hurting his boss's ears.