There's a moment where time stops, where Emory is lost in her thoughts. Is this her life now? She went from the weakest witch in her coven to a punching bag for some woman she hasn't even met, all because she ate her own slice of pie.
Then Emory thinks of her goddess, is this truly her fate? Why does the Goddess of Life frown upon her and let her go through this? Why must Emory suffer so much? What has she ever done to deserve such things?
And then time rushes back again, and Emory finds herself staring into the woman's brown eyes. The lady sneers down at her, "You won't last a week." She sneers.
Emory really dislikes her then, this burning urge to just hit her over and over and over again. Her shoulder burns, her curse laughing at her. And maybe this is all the curse's fault. Maybe it's the reason all this is happening.
She screams, desperate to let her magic flow out and hurt the woman. Only nothing happens. Emory doesn't feel the crackle of energy, the heat of it flowing through her, and her hands hang limply in the air.
The woman laughs down at her, "Silly silly, witch." She leans down and whispers in Emory's ear, "No one can use magic here. You only have your strength to guide you, now."
Emory jerks her head back, strands of silver hair ripping from her head from being wrapped around the woman's fingers, and then Emory tackles her to the floor. The woman shoves her foot into Emory's gut and kicks her far back enough that Em lands on her ass.
The lady quickly jumps to her feet, her eyes blazing as she storms to her.
"That is enough!"
The voice shakes Emory to her core and her body spasms to a stop. This overwhelming power, the need to submit as fear floods her, it makes her nauseous. She whimpers, eyes wide as she watches the woman fall to her knees with a cry.
When the overwhelming urge to continue to slam her head against the floor disappears, Emory glances over.
A man in an all white suit walks towards them. His clothes are nearly blinding, and she blinks a few times before she takes in the rest of him. He's older, maybe in his late fifties. His black hair is greying, it's neatly styled with sideburns on his cheeks. His grey eyes are piercing, and Emory immediately looks away from them.
This pressure, this sudden need to run and hide, it can't be normal. He must be a powerful supernatural to radiate danger the way he does.
He isn't alone though. Behind him, Rome stands in his own suit. This one is pitch black, black jacket, black button up shirt, black slacks and polished shoes. His blonde hair is styled back, looking fluffy and soft as his forest green eyes glare at her from where she's sprawled on the floor.
He acts like he has the right to look down on her. Like Emory was the one who murdered his best friend and not the other way around.
"You must be Emory." The strange man's voice makes her body shiver, a foreboding feeling squeezing her chest. "I'm glad that my boy Rome brought you back safe and sound."
There's a pause, and Emory lifts her head up enough to peer up at him through her pale lashes. As soon as she meets his grey gaze, fear squeezes the air out of her lungs.
"I'm ashamed that I'm meeting you in these circumstances," At first Emory thinks he means the death of her coven, but then he continues, and her blood turns to ice. "You see, I have zero tolerance for bullies and fights among peers in the facility. You understand, yes?" But he doesn't wait for her to answer, "Rome, take Miss Redfern to the dark room. I'm sure that will help her settle."
There's multiple audible intakes of breath around the room and then the murmurs of the others. She glances over at the girl next to her to see she's smirking with satisfaction. Emory's brows furrow as worry takes over, what is the dark room?
"That goes for you as well, Miss Parma. Don't think you've escaped punishment."
The woman's smirk falls and is replaced by a look of terror. She reaches towards him with shaking hands.
"No, please! I was just doing as you-" Two guards step away from the dining hall wall, come up behind her and hauls her to her feet. "No! Let me go!" She screeches, eyes wide and frantic.
Emory watches, her nostrils flared and her jaw unhinged as one of the guards pulls something from his leather belt. He uncaps the tube and pulls out a small syringe full of something thick and grey. Then he jams the needle into the top of her right thigh.
Parma's body falls limp, her eyes lose focus as she stares at Emory. Then the guard picks her up and throws her over his shoulder before walking away.
"Surely you are more sensible than she is?" The director's voice makes Emory look at him. "I don't wish to do this the hard way." He smirks. Emory looks at Rome from over the Director's shoulder. He glares at her, his arms held behind his back like he's some kind of soldier. Then he gives a very slight shake of his head.
"No, I'll go willingly." Emory says, finally dragging her eyes back to the man in charge.
"Good girl." The director purrs and her skin erupts with goosebumps. She wobbles to her feet, the world spinning. It's probably because she had her head slammed into the floor more than once.
The director chuckles at Emory, and then Rome stalks forward, his fingers digging painfully into her upper arm before he drags her out into the open double doors.
"As you were, my peers." Emory can hear the director say behind them. My peers? She shivers and looks back over her shoulder to see him leaving through another door.
"What the hell is happening?" Emory asks, lifting her head to glare at Rome who still has a death grip on her arm. She tries to wretch herself away from him, but his hold tightens and she winces. "Why did you bring me here?"
Rome doesn't look at her, his face set in a perpetual frown, "This is Baymour, a secret research facility in Oklahoma."
"But why am I here? I need to-"
"What?" He snaps out, his voice taking a hard edge, "You need to what?" He pushes. "You're coven was massacred thanks to you. You're best friend possessed by a demon and beheaded because of you."
Emory's head rears back as if she's been slapped.
"There's nowhere for you to go so you'll stay here." His voice is firm. He glances down at me, taking me in from head to toe with a frown, "Besides this is where you belong."
"Belong?" She gasps, her hands fisted so tightly she draws blood from the heel of her palms.
"Yes. You are now property to the Director of Baymour. Your priestess sold you to him." He says, sharply turning down a left hall.
"What?" she shakes her head, "No, that makes no sense. You took me, I know you took me because you did it after you killed my friend."
"Well, believe it." He mutters, shoving his hands into his suit pockets. "She needed her dept paid because her apothecary shop wasn't covering it."
Emory's ears start to ring as she stares ahead of her, her legs moving in sync with his without thought.
"You invited a demon hunter?"
"You've seen our other options. It'll take care of the girls."
"But you're also about to sell one out-"
It'll take care of the girls. Just how much dept were they in that she became desperate enough to sell Emory? She was never well liked among her coven sisters, and while Mrs. Marlene scolded her time and time again, she was never cruel. She was even motherly at times. Even Priestess Promilia showed her true kindness.
They sold her out, though, and died before anyone could tell her. Only they're dead because of her so really, who betrayed who?
"And why am I hear exactly?" What are they researching? Is she going to be a test subject? Will she grow tentacles out of her butt? She shakes her head at the thought, "And what is the dark room?" Rome stops and he gestures at the door in front of him.
There's a moment of silence as she stares at it. With the way Parma reacted, Emory expected something much more sinister than a normal door in the hallway.
"I would say you'd get a warm welcome, but frankly, no one does." Rome sighs and runs his hand through his blonde hair. His gaze drifts to the door in front of them and then directs his gaze at her. "Find somewhere to hide immediately, and do not leave until it's time. If you're stupid enough to leave, then don't run."
Then he shoves Emory inside and locks the door behind her.
It's pitch black to the point that she can't see her own hand in front of her even if it was in her face. There's zero source of light, and she can hear the muffled sound of Rome walking away on the other side of the door.
Okay, at least Emory knows why it's called the dark room.
She takes a step ahead of her, but screams when she doesn't touch the floor. Instead she pitches forward and tumbles down what she can guess to be a stack of stairs. The impact of her body smacking against hard cement and her groans of pain are loud in the quiet room.
She lands flat on her face at the bottom, her head throbbing from taking too many hits in less than half an hour.
"Could have at least warned me about the stairs," she mutters.
As soon as she's on her feet, a loud and angry roar echoes around her. She freezes, her heart seizing in her chest as the ground beneath her shakes from just the sound.
"Oh Goddess, what the fuck is that?"