It feels cramped, like there's not enough space for my body, and when I try to move around, I knock my head and elbows against something hard. I've got to clench my jaw not to curse. The rule of thumb when you've been kidnapped and have no fucking clue where you are is to keep quiet and assess your surroundings first, so I grit my teeth and fumble around.
Looks like I can't move an inch without hitting something.
Great, just great.
Oh, and the moment my mind clears up a bit, pain shoots through my spinal cord, and I'm reminded of my sore legs. The poor things are forced to remain bent; there's not enough space to spread them out. My feet are already pressed against the wall of whatever is caging me.
Where the fuck am I…?
Good question, and I still have no answer to it.
Even after opening my eyes, I can't see shit. It's pitch-black. Bringing my hand close to my face and waving it around doesn't change anything. I still can't see it.
I try to prop myself up a bit, only to realize that there's something heavy on my chest. I don't know why I didn't notice it until now. Guess my mind is more jumbled up than I first thought.
Patting around, I'm slowly making the shape of what's lying on top of me. I held my breath as I cup what seems to be a small face. I pinch the soft cheeks and get a grunt in response.
Jonathan? Or is it James?
Wait a minute, there are two faces, so two children on top of me.
Whatever the lycans have decided to do with us, they at least had the decency not to separate us. It spares me a heart attack, and I let out a sigh of relief. I don't know what I'd have done if I had woken up alone.
The two of them are still unconscious, though.
How long we've been out of it is unknown, so I'm not sure whether I should be worried or not.
Scott, they're vampires, pureblood vampires.
Right. They have a better generative ability than I do. My neck hurts, but I'm otherwise fine, meaning that they should also be fine. Jonathan is most likely just dead-tired from his day and skipping nap-time.
As for James… Hard to say,
Anyway, first things first, I've got to figure out how to get out of here. The assholes took my phone, so I can't even call Jordan, and I don't know whether the trackers are working or not. So, I fumble around again, my fingers tracing the walls.
Something pricks my finger. Hm? A splinter?
Is that wood?
Before I can ponder over it, one of the vampires shifts on me, nudging my legs.
I suck in a deep breath.
These two lumps of flesh below my waist are so darn painful that I wish I could cut them off. I might or might not have gone overboard with the spiritual energy, and the pain didn't take its sweet time before plaguing me.
"What the heck…?"
Oh, that's James's voice. It sounds a little hoarse, but nothing too worrisome. I'm about to say something when his small hands grope around, trying to figure out what's under him.
"Stop fondling me," I grunt, and the hands freeze. "That's my chest, just to let you know."
"Sorry," he quickly apologizes, then I think he tries to stand up, as the next instant, I hear a loud thud and a colorful curse. "Why is the ceiling so frigging low? Dang it, my head is already throbbing like hell! Oh, for the love of sacred blood, it's impossible to think straight," he huffs and puffs. "Scott, what happened…?"
"Well, nothing much. We just underestimated what kind of flies your baiting would attract, and we were lucky enough to meet the non-human cultists of the cult."
"Huh?"
I let out a self-loathing scoff as an answer.
The image of the alpha and the luna pops up in my mind. It's hard to believe powerful beings like them would engage in foolish rituals. Why would they even participate in that madness? That's asking for a disaster to happen. They should know better than to tempt fate, especially with the failed rituals' history they have.
"Anyway, sorry. I should have noticed faster."
It seems that whenever I'm working with James, I make such novice blunders that it makes you wonder whether I'm truly a full-fledged hunter or not. I mean, with the kobold fiasco, it was the forgotten phone on the counter.
I wonder what it's going to be next time. That is, if there's a next time.
"Don't beat yourself over it too much," James sighs, seemingly propping his chin on my chest. The pointy bone digs into my flesh. "We were expecting to bait humans, not something else."
"Hm, well, I guess so." It's kinda cute how he's trying to comfort me, even though we both know I messed up royally. "To be fair, I genuinely hadn't expected lycans to be involved."
"…Wait, what?" James stutters. "Lycans are involved? No, wait, that makes sense."
I'm about to ask how the heck it makes sense when realization strikes me like a lightning bolt.
The one thing missing from the victims' corpses had been their hearts. Now that I know lycans are most likely the ringleaders, my brain is slowly connecting the dots. The ritual the cultists are practicing is so obvious that I'm almost angered into laughing.
They're madmen, all of them.
"Could they really be trying to revive that old fossil, though?" James mumbles to himself. "Have they lost their minds or something?"
My question, exactly.
It's just a suspicion for now, but it looks like these fools are trying to bring their primal leader back to life. That's the only ritual lycans practice that requires children's hearts, and their primal leader is the only known lycan they'd care enough to dirty their hands with a forbidden ritual and risk incurring the wrath of causality.
Thanks to the lycans' crazy healing ability, as long as a piece of heart remains, there's a possibility to bring the dead back to life, if all the right conditions are met. That's why lycans are such a headache to kill, and hunters hate being dispatched on a lycan hunt.
But that's not the point.
Don't they know that you should leave your dead ancestors dead? There's a reason why this is a taboo ritual, and why our realm forbids it.
Using humans as a proxy won't absolve them of their sins, whatever they might think.
"Anyway," I sigh, pushing the matter aside for the time being, "you think you could break the walls? It seems to be wood, so it shouldn't be too difficult for you."
My answer is silence.
"James?"
"Erm, well, you see…"
His voice trails, and he lets out an awkward chuckle. I don't like that. I don't like it at all.
"James…"
"Sorry!" He cries out, his tone pleading. "I'm still getting accustomed to my child form, and my body isn't very cooperative right now. I fear I don't have much strength in my arms."
You've got to be shitting me—
"And why didn't you tell us before we set out for the festival?" I feel my mouth twitch. "Y'know, it's the kind of stuff Jordan would have liked to know before agreeing to let you play bait."
"Sir Akerley said to keep quiet."
Ah. So, it's your patriarch's fault. Fair enough, though. Otherworldly beings usually avoid disobeying their patriarchs or matriarchs. It's called survival instinct.
But now what?
It might be wood and not metal, but it seems to be reinforced. I'm not sure I can break it, even after channeling my spiritual energy to my arms.
I'm still pondering my options when rushed footsteps echo, alongside indistinct voices.
I can feel James's body stiffen on me.
Mine, too, stiffens, for all that matters.
Neither of us makes a sound. We have no idea what, or who, is outside. I perk my ears, trying to discern the situation. I don't want to attract unwanted attention by banging on the walls and screaming. I need to assess whether these people are foes or allies first.
"Huh?" James exclaims, his voice dripping with confusion. "Lyon? What is he doing here?"
The lycan heir? Did James hear his voice? His hearing is keener than mine, so it's possible.
Although that doesn't tell me whether he's an ally or a foe. It's his brethren who locked us up in that coffin-like thing, so my trust is a little lacking here.