The Moon's Fangs | 1
7 | double edged

Amelia

When the guy I thought would be eternally grateful to me for freeing him turned psycho, it was obvious sunshine and daisies weren’t in the foreseeable future.

After he threw me over a shoulder and stepped through a swirling cosmos created by a ring of his own, I expected another nightmare to come to life. Instead, he seemed at a loss for words when stepping into a wasteland.

The sky glittered with incandescent light, so much so, the sand appeared to absorb the moonlight.

When I craned my neck to see around his shoulder, a haven clashed against the barren conditions, standing out in vibrant colors against the encompassing badlands. Similar to the sphere which previously imprisoned Reks, this oasis had a dome-like barrier of its own, being see-through and tinted in a light amber-gold shade. It was hard to see from this far away, but I could make out architectures through the trees, like people lived within it.

His body tensed, mumbling something under his breath while staring blankly at the blanket of sand outstretched before us as if he could see something there that I couldn’t.

“You can just drop me off here. I… I won’t tell anyone about you.” My throat ached after screaming my head off. He had not reacted in any kind of positive way I hoped for, and I was certain parting ways would be the best choice for me. This man was pissed and confused, and I wanted no part of that.

Pain blitzed through my ribs when he readjusted my weight. I clamped my jaw, sharply sucking in air.

There was a pause, then instead of offering a response, he tossed his ring in the air again and opened yet another portal.

My eyes flashed. A faint hope of being transported into the oasis pulled at my heart. If that happened and someone saw me as a hostage, someone would be bound to tell the authorities and I’d be saved! But… that all depended on if whoever lived within the strange barrier were good people, and not a bunch of criminals stuck in one big prison cell.

Either way, I wouldn’t be finding out any time soon. When he stepped through, it was evident no one would be coming to my rescue.

We warped into a room covered in dust and grime, having to be the work of years of abandonment. Strange science equipment and tools, and coincidentally, sparse remains of dead plants, gathered dust from being unused and mistreated on counter spaces. A slithering trail could be faintly seen across the floor. Shattered, grime-covered glass littered the floor in the far back corner under a broken container. The fact the lights flicked on upon our arrival was surprising, seeing as this place hadn’t been occupied in a long while.

The muscles in Reks’ back knotted, and his arm holding down my legs twitched with agitation. I couldn’t see his face, but a sinking feeling told me this place meant something to him. Maybe even belonged to him.

Oh hell, I realized. An evil scientist never trapped him in the first place. This guy is the evil scientist! Did that mean I got roped into freeing a villain? Please, no.

My heart rate escalated faster than the speed of freaking light. A weapon. I needed something to protect myself. Anything. I reached out towards a tool with strained fingers as he walked us by a table, but it was just barely out of reach. My finger brushed the corner of the table, only collecting dust. No!

Then both of his hands were grasping my sides before he pulled me off his shoulder. In one fluid motion, he set me into a chair before my feet had the chance to touch the grimy floor.

Before I could gather what was going on, something blue and snake-like slicked around my arms and torso, strapping me against the chair before moving to my waist, then darting down to snag my ankles in place. Rope? He held the opposite end, giving it slack despite not seeming to have any slack left to give. I went dizzy with terror, tugging ineffectually.

The psycho’s expression turned sinister when he turned his dark eyes on me. I flinched as he gripped my jaw, muttering something I couldn’t understand. I weakly pulled my head to the side to free my jaw from his grip. “Please s-stop.”

He pulled his hand back, making an interested humming sound. “Hm. The English language. What a rare find. Spoken on only one planet. It’s not every day I get to add a new dialect to my archive.”

My teary eyes flashed up at him. I didn’t know what he meant by the whole language archive thing, but I could finally understand him! “Ah, English! You speak English! Look, this is a huge misunderstanding. I—” I tried explaining, but he cut me off, pressing a finger to my mouth.

“Hush. You’ll have your turn soon enough. I want you to answer a few questions for me.” He lifted his finger off my lips, then turned to open a cabinet drawer, sifting through various tools. “If I don’t like your answers, you, in turn, will not like the outcome.” He brought several tools close to his eyes for closer inspection as if nearly blind. Some of his selections looked sharp, most were unrecognizable.

I swallowed, not liking the sound of that. The excitement I had about him knowing English was short-lived. The perk twisted into a feeling of dread.

The scratches lancing up his back were bleeding, leaving most of his back red and inflamed. My fingers matched the crime scene, but what choice did I have? I had the sinking wish I could hide my hands behind my back, afraid my bloodstained nails would only hurt my case moving forward.

He set the chosen tools on a rolling table and swiveled it next to me before reaching over for another chair. He calmly sat in front of me like a doctor would for their patient. A sexy, shirtless one with psychotic, unpredictable tendencies.

Tears inadvertently rolled down my wet cheeks. Either because the truth was unbelievable or because deep down, this guy wasn’t going to believe anything I said anyway. His handsome face held a calm composure, but the look in his eyes told a different story. Dark and hazy, consumed in hatred. He was trying to hide his rage, but I knew it was there. I could feel it.

He pursed his lips in thought, steepling his fingers as he rested his elbows on his knees. He had twined the elastic-like rope between his fingers, still no sign of the other end. He squinted slightly as if trying to look at me through a fogged window. “How about we start easy. Tell me your name and who you work for.”

The calm persona he attempted to convey convinced me of nothing. This man had a demon trapped behind a thin wall.

I tried to still my trembling lip, then gripped the arms of the chair I was bound to. “My name is Amelia Drake. I don’t work for anyone right now because my best friend and I wanted to have a free summer before figuring out the whole college thing. B-but I’m not reckless! I have a savings account.”

His brows scrunched together. His dark eyes still seemed to be unfocused, yet calculating all the same. “How old are you, Amelia Drake?” my eyes fell to the puncture marks on his chest, side, and abdomen. The small wounds where the wires were previously attached to him were beginning to shrink from rapid healing.

Holy hell.

Were my eyes working correctly? Or did this crazy man have superpowers?

I blinked. “U-um, eighteen—”

He abruptly stood up, looking around his lab in confusion as if he only just now noticed how drastic the state of the room was in. He slid a finger against a surface, examining the grime before continuing to stare open-mouthed at the abandoned lab.

“What in Fates na—” he stopped short when his eyes landed back on me, like he had just seen me in a whole new light. He staggered away in a sharp unbalanced movement, taken aback. The chair screeched against the floor when he bumped into it, staring at me the same way someone would if they saw a ghost.

But that initial shock quickly faded. The blue rope fastened around me slowly tightened around my limbs and waist. Like it had a mind of its own. His angry-calm attitude switched to a raw fury which now burned through the thin coating that kept his demon at bay.

It was like he truly saw me for the first time, and he was not happy with the result.

It unnerved me. One second, he seemed moderately stable, and the next, he was gearing up to dive over the edge of sanity, headfirst into insanity. Multiple personality disorder much?

No longer unfocused, he stared down at me, fists tightening and untightening. Every part of him went rigid. He pressed agitated lips together, holding back a wicked snarl. “You know… maybe you would have gotten away with me believing you if I hadn’t noticed that half-finished glamour you’re wearing. Is that what you were banking on? Praying you crippled me long enough so I wouldn’t notice? Did you really think you could pass as the empress wearing that?” he leaned down to eye level, his smoky voice obtaining a threatening hiss. “Or were you foolish enough to believe I could be deceived so easily?”

Half-finished glamour? Impersonating an empress? He's lost his mind.

I tore my eyes away from his, heart trembling. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about… but if you just let me explain—”

“We’re going to play a little game.” He said in a dangerously low tone, taking a seat in front of me with a tool in hand. The counterfeit-calm exterior he maintained slowly began to crack from pent-up rage. “Every time you lie to me, I am going to hurt you.”

Something about his choice of words, or the strong sentiment behind them conveyed this wasn’t his first time doing this. No. Every action leading up to this was intentional.

The building hatred practically let off steam from his body. It was like standing at the top of an active volcano with no way down. I was at the mercy of his fury, and in this moment, he looked merciless.

I clenched my jaw to keep it from clattering, trying to keep the tight trembles from causing my ribs any more additional pain. “I’ve been telling you the truth.”

“Well, you better make it more convincing.” He twirled the thin stylus-like tool between his fingers. “I’ve had an ample amount of practice with liars. The empress, for example, she makes deception look like a work of art. Betrayal, her masterpiece.”

My mouth went dry.

From how he spoke of this so-called empress, I couldn’t tell whether he hated her or was in love with her. One moment, he defended her, and the next, he attacked.

Reks glanced down to observe the chromatic features of the stylus. When he applied pressure to the flat end, the tip of it radiated a warm sage green. “Do you know what this is?” his dark eyes flicked up to observe my answer. When I shook my head, he continued. “I call it an ovo. It really is a fantastic piece of research equipment. It can artificially stimulate most biological species’ nervous systems. It can make you feel euphoria,” he pressed the flat end again, shifting the color to a pitch-black, “or make your hands feel like they’re being sawed off with a dull blade. The only difference there is, is that this can be done over and over… and over. Unless it makes you lose your mind. That can be trickier to fix.”

My body trembled to the point of causing it to affect the pain in my ribs. He created something like that? So not only was he psychotic, but a psychotic genius.

“But we don’t have to start there.” he mused. “We can start with an artificially broken finger and work our way up.”

My blood went sickeningly hot and cold at once, a nausaus mix of sweat and chills skated down my body.

This was a mistake. If I had spent all this time trying to figure out how to get back home instead of going out of my way to help this maniac, maybe I would have somehow been able to run away with Blaire… find help and get away from the monsters. Hell, if only I didn’t steal that stupid ring… none of this would have happened.

I made every wrong choice.

“Now. Before we get to those eager little fingers, we need to take off this pesky glamour of yours.” He stood, making a slow, methodical circle around me. My breath seized up in my throat while he scanned my arms and legs. He stopped midway, pushing my hair back from my ear as he searched for something he wouldn't find. I had a sudden urge to bite his hand, but what good would that do? Absolutely none.

Don’t antagonize a monster when you’re at every disadvantage. It’ll only make the end result hurt more, hurt longer.

One of his fingers stroked the flesh behind my earlobe. “Don’t get me wrong, you or whoever programmed this glamour did an excellent job. No one has ever gotten this close to matching Ellison Lucil's appearance.” I flinched as he used a finger to rotate my head towards him to check my other ear. “It’s a wonder you’ve done this much to it. As I’m sure you already know some genetic codes are locked, which makes it impossible to duplicate their DNA.”

Gods. The way he spoke, it was like he thought me to be some face-changing intergalactic spy. I'd laugh if it weren't for my life being on the line.

His finger slid across the chain of my necklace, sending a shiver up my neck. “It would be much easier if you just told me where it was. Or would you rather surrender all your jewelry to me?” He smoothed a thumb over the blue opal gem in the dip of my collarbone.

The buildup of everything leading up to this moment became too much to hold in. And this psychotic man wasn’t making sense. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. He was supposed to help me, not... not this.

Tears splotched my vision. My throat stung coldly, too tight to release a frightened sob. “I shouldn’t have come here. I should have n-never trusted that stupid snake.” I squeezed my eyes shut, gasping between pines. “You were supposed to… t-the monsters — now my best friend is probably dead because of me!”

“Slow down.” Reks paused, pulling his hand away. “Speak plainly. There are many kinds of monsters. Are you referring to the Adamant Horde?”

“I don’t know!” my voice broke from a scream to a rasped whisper. “Th-they were giant blue rock monsters! They were trying to kill us… then I, I just fell through… a-and I was alone…” I couldn’t finish my sentence, couldn’t form complete thoughts. It was all too much. “I don’t know… I don’t know.”

My sobs filled the dusty air.

He stared at me now with nearly the same amount of confusion as myself. Then his edge of irritation resurfaced. “I’m going to free one of your hands, and when I do, you are going to take off your glamour.”

The strange bonds loosened around one of my wrists enough for me to pull my arm free, without him so much as lifting a finger to do so. I blinked, wiping the tears from my face.

I noticed his eyes linger over my charm bracelet, as if considering it to be whatever glamour item he sought.

Telling him I didn’t have what he wanted felt like a bad idea. He was definitely searching for some kind of jewelry on me. So with that in mind, I tentatively slipped my hand inside my back pocket and retrieved Nolan’s ring. I offered it to him like a guilty kid would after stealing candy.

When he touched it, a faint tendril of amber light stemmed through the ring before returning to the cold black. Reks blinked, his breathing turning ragged. “Where did you get this-” his fist suddenly slammed into the side table. I jumped, protecting my face with my free hand. “How did you get this from Sorren!”

Fuuuuuck. That is not the response I expected.

I shook my head. “I… accidentally stole it f-from a guy named Nolan.” I cringed before the words left my mouth. “A snake told me I needed it. I n-needed it in order to save you.” Tears dripped from my chin. “You have to believe me. Please.”

“Empty your other pockets. Now.”

I did as he demanded, pulling out my phone from my other back pocket, handing it to him. He gave it a weird look, as if he’d never seen an iPhone before.

“Jewelry too. All of it.”

It took me a second of fiddling to get my necklace to unhook with only one hand. I set it into his waiting palm. His gaze flicked down to my bracelet. I bit my lip in protest but slid it off and gave it to him. It was better than him losing his patience and ripping it off, breaking it in the process.

“Explain to me how you managed to accidentally steal the ring?” doubt riddled his tone as he set my phone and jewelry on the far end of the table, out of my reach.

“I don’t know.” my rising irritation seeped through clenched teeth. “It just happened. I never chose to take it. I… don’t know what you want to hear.”

His dark eyes squinted at my cross response. He sized me up. “Luk, prepare to manually deactivate her glamour, then I want you to initiate a memory scan of the last fifty hours.”

I looked around for who he spoke to, but we were the only two in the room.

“Give me your hand,” he said, pulling my attention back forward.

“What are you going to do?” I squeezed my hand against my chest protectively.

“A manual deactivation of your disguise and a memory scan.” he repeated flatly. “Since you’re being so reluctant, my Guide will get personal with your own, forcing it to reveal where you’ve hidden it. If you are truly innocent in the matter, you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

His what? Wanted to get personal with my what?

I hesitated, saw no benefit of refusing, then placed my trembling hand in his. He clasped my wrist firmly, then a cyan-blue light under his skin traveled down his bare arm towards our connection. It was the exact color of the bonds constricting me to the chair. Something moved under his skin. It moved down his arm towards where he held me. I gasped out, then something unseen pricked my wrist. It was like the flesh of his wrist bit mine.

Despite it only feeling like a pinch, I whimpered. After seeing a light crawl underneath his skin, I tried to abort — tried to pull my hand back. But a surreal, dizzying feeling overwhelmed my senses as that same blue light spiderwebbed a couple inches up my forearm. I could feel something trying to intrude, its desire to unravel me and lay me bare. But something stopped it, as if it had no means of connecting to the source it so greedily wanted to devour.

Reks stared down at our hands, absorbed in thought for a few long moments. “Guideless?” he pulled away, rubbing at his forehead in tired frustration. The spiderweb of light retracted along with his hand.

“What?” I pressed my hand against my chest, relieved to have it back and in working order. “What does that mean?”

He sighed, bowing his head and looking down at the floor. “It means I can’t see if you’re full of shit. But it also means you’re not wearing a glamour.”

Hope and anger sparked in my chest at once. Oh. Does this mean you’ve been wrong about me this whole time, Sherlock? Does this mean you’ve been a complete psycho asshole for no reason?

“So, I’m probably good to go then. Right?” I said instead, wiping away tears with my free hand and offered the calmest smile I could muster up.

His gaze flicked back up, looking at me through thick lashes. “You misunderstand me. For all I know, you could have locked away or killed the empress and a vitiate. A deadly threat of a girl just biding her time for the right moment to strike me down. Until proven innocent, you will stay here.”

“What?” I blanched. “Do I look like a killer to you?”

He stood, expression unreadable. "Beautiful faces tend to wield the most potent means of chaos, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake."

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