Hour Of Darkness
Chapter Fifteen, Not A Second Time
Paul jumped about twenty feet in the air when he heard a huge crashing noise coming from inside the castle. "Someone's doing some remodeling," he thought bitterly to himself.
He stood up, stretching. George was right. He couldn't just sit here while John was in danger. Ringo would be quite all right; he's old enough to take care of himself.
Feeling a bit more confident, Paul transformed into a wolf in order to move more freely and more quickly. Bounding around the exterior of the castle moat, he searched for a way in, save the giant door at the front which he clearly wasn't going to open. He doubted that there was a doorbell, either. There was no bridge to a servant's entrance or anything equally convenient, Paul found with disappointment. He looked down into the moat. The water was a muddy brown and a disgusting smell wafted up to his nostrils. He cringed at the stench, his nose being as accurate as it was. He took one last deep breath of the fresh air, and jumped.
He hit the water with a loud splash. The water was less than pleasant. It had a disgusting consistency, like that of a thinned out mud pie. Holding his breath to avoid the stench, he doggy-paddled his way to a large pipe that was built into the castle wall. Paul shinnied in carefully, shaking himself thoroughly in an attempt to discharge some of the filth. To his disgust, it stuck like glue in large clumps on his once-silky fur coat. He sneezed twice, stirring up dust in the pipe that stuck to the damp clumps in his coat.
Oh, this is just fantastic, He thought dryly. With one more futile shake, Paul moved off down the pipe, feeling utterly disgusting.
After a few twists and turns, Paul came to a vertical stretch of pipe. Judging the room to be sufficient, he transformed back into a human. To his chagrin, he stayed just as muddy and disgusting. Breathing through his mouth to avoid smelling the pungent odors, Paul braced his back against the wall, using his strong legs to slowly but surely inch his way up the pipe. The pipe went up for quite a ways, about thirty feet. About halfway up, Paul slipped, the stone crumbling under his feet. Falling fifteen feet to the base of the pipe, he landed awkwardly on one foot, pain shooting through his leg. He heard a most disconcerting snap, and he howled in pain. Paul landed hard on his knees and elbows, such pain shooting through all his limbs that he passed out on the cold stone floor.
****
Rain began to pour down on Ringo, just worsening his mood and condition ever the more. At least he could wash the blood from his hands.
Still sobbing, he rubbed his hands together in the pouring rain, the water turning red as it ran in streams down his arms. He didn't even know where it came from. Then he noticed that there was something warm trickling down his face. Bringing his hands up, he wiped at it, then brought them back. More blood stained his previously clean hands. Confused, Ringo gently moved his hands all over his face, trying to find the source of the blood.
It was coming from his mouth.
"That can't be good," Ringo thought bitterly. He wiped at his chin with the back of his hand, then scrubbed at his face and neck, trying to clean himself off. Ringo vaguely remembered throwing up after transporting Paul, but didn't realize the gravity of it. Fresh tears sprung to his eyes.
I'm gonna die. Oh, god, I'm gonna die. He stared up at the night sky, his tears mingling with the rain running down his cheeks.
****
Karine walked slowly around George, running her hands over his wings, squeezing his muscles, like an animal brought for slaughter. "George, is this man your friend?" She asked, her voice smooth as velvet.
George looked John up and down with a disdainful air. "No, your Majesty," He replied coldly, his eyes burning into John's.
Karine, you can't DO this! He cried, on the verge of a complete emotional breakdown.
"Talk to him. He can hear you." She said, heading towards the door. "You two have a nice chat." She stopped halfway out the door. "…And George?"
"Yes, your Majesty?"
"I need him alive." She closed the door with a loud clang. George turned to John, folding his hands over his tanned chest.
George, can you hear me? John tried reaching out to George's mind, past the dark barrier that Karine had put up.
"Of course I can." George replied coldly.
Don't let her do this George. You know me. It's John! Your friend! You remember me!
"I've never seen you before." George replied, his voice lacking any feeling or remembrance.
That stung. That stung John so deeply that tears sprung to his eyes. George lost interest and leaned casually by the door, closing his eyes to rest.
After he regained his senses, and his pride, John took this opportunity to make an escape attempt. Using a small stone he was able to pull from the wall with his mind, he pried open the metal cuffs. It took him over an hour to release all four of his limbs, but once both his hands were free, he was able to loosen his foot shackles much more swiftly. He stood up, flexing his muscles, keeping a close watch on George, who seemed to be sleeping. John tiptoed over to the window, picking his way through the broken glass shards. Holding on to the side of the window, he leaned out.
John was met by a sickening sight. The height alone was enough to make him dizzy. But far, far below, about three hundred feet, was a moat of a most unnatural color. He carefully judged the depth of the sludge; about one hundred feet deep. There was little wind, so John stood out on the windowsill, and, arms fully outstretched in a swan dive, he jumped.
John's heart stopped as he plummeted, down, down, down, the drop seemingly unending. He heard Karine:
JOHN!! NO!!!
Sorry, Karine. I'm not your pawn.
The wind whipped at his hair, throwing it every which way around his shoulders. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out since he had no voice.
And he laughed.
Oh, how he laughed.
He didn't laugh out loud, of course, but if he had had his voice, he would have been laughing for the whole world to hear. Nothing could stop him now. He was invincible, untouchable. Nothing else mattered. John closed his eyes, preparing for the inevitable slap of the water.
But it never came.
Something grabbed him, mid-air. He opened his eyes, trying to voice his disappointment and displeasure. George carried him up higher, face serene even in the strange situation. John beat at his bare chest, trying to get George to drop him. But George paid him no mind, circling higher and higher.
Bring him to me. It is time. Karine cut into John's anguished thoughts. George immediately backpedaled, reeling to change direction. With one solid beat of his wings, he carried himself and John straight over the wall of the castle into the courtyard.
Landing dead center in the small clearing, George dumped John unceremoniously on the ground before flying to Karine's side. John stood up slowly, brushing himself off and trying to regain some of his pride. Karine gazed at him with a sad look in her eyes.
"I wasn't expecting that, John."
That was half the point, He spat back. Hurt flashed in Karine's eyes, but she quickly covered it up. She held up one hand, and, still gazing at John, snapped her fingers once…twice.
With a loud pop, Paul appeared to her left, unconscious on the ground. John exploded.
WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM?? He screamed, his hands in tight, trembling fists. John couldn't stand it anymore. He launched himself at Karine, screaming with all his mind.
Karine held up one hand, and with an offhand gesture, John flew to the side, landing on the ground with a dull thud. He stood up slowly, hate filling his eyes.
"We could have been a great team, John." John launched himself at Karine again, and again she swept him aside. "Your powers are most extraordinary."
Bite me. John lifted up a huge boulder, flinging it at her with all his mind strength. George flew to meet it, catching it like a child would catch a beach ball. With a small toss, he returned it to John.
John leapt out of the way, sprinting to avoid being hit by the flying rock. He landed face-down in the gravel path, skidding a few feet until he stopped.
Standing up slowly, John wiped his chin with the back of his hand, finding it to be bloody. He realized there was no way he could fight Karine, not alone, and especially not with George. With an air of defeat, he returned to the middle of the courtyard.
What have you done to Paul.
"Absolutely nothing, at least, nothing that would harm him. He actually had a broken ankle, which I healed. You should be grateful." John bit back thousands of bitter retorts, tactfully keeping his silence. Karine snapped her fingers once more, and Paul jerked to life, like a windup toy. He stood up slowly, moving to stand next to Karine. His eyes glowed as red as George's.
Oh, shit.
On To Chapter Sixteen!
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