TO TAME THE BRUTAL LYCAN BEAST-Chapter 97: THE POISON GAME

VALORIA WILDEROSE

"Which one do you think carried the poison?" She begins, ignoring my thrashing and convulsing on the floor.

Poison?

I was poisoned?

Is that why I’m in so much pain?

Logically it makes sense. I can feel my body shutting down violently, one piece of myself at a time, while inflicting unimaginable agony on me.

"Was it the treats, or was it the tea?"

I can’t think straight right now to answer her question, to figure out why she did it.

Why me? I did nothing wrong. I answered all her questions honestly. I was obedient.

She makes a buzzer sound with her mouth after I don’t answer.

"Wrong answer. The poison was in the smoke you inhaled after walking in. The maids took a prophylaxis ahead of time to delay the onset of action before it starts affecting them too. Brilliant, isn’t it?"

On cue, the maids standing around drop like flies too, convulsing on the floor just like I am.

Elowen breaks out into a loud manic cackle as the chaos ensues all around her. It’s straight out of a horror movie, the way she loses her breath like the evil mastermind at the end of it, wiping the tears in her eyes.

"Ah... I missed messing with Azrael’s pets just for the thrill of it. He told me not to touch you, you know. But I wanted to try it out and see how mad he’ll get. And you know he loves the thrill as much as I do."

She’s having way too much fun as my life fizzles away slowly and painfully. I really might die this time.

"Next question, my darling." The sweetness in her voice returns, now repulsive to me. "Among these three vials on the table, one of them is the antidote. Which one do you think it is?"

I stare at the bottles shimmering from afar, high up though visible to me. How would I know? Is there some kind of hint I’m supposed to be looking for?

"You’re welcome to test each of them out and see which one it is," she suggests with a shrug.

I latch onto her suggestion, desperately crawling on the floor like a fish out of water. Pins stab into every joint as they burn.

My left side is already fully numb, leaving only my right hand to drag me forward.

I reach up and knock them over to the ground, and once they fall I grab the closest to me—the red bottle—drinking its contents in one fell swoop.

And then I wait for a sign.

It comes in the form of more pain. I scream in agony as something worse takes over, ripping my head apart with ripples of sharp stabbing sensations.

"Oops, did I forget to mention that the other two are filled with poison? My bad." She chuckles again, enjoying watching me scurry around to save my life.

I struggle with it, feeling hot tears burn my eyes and the strong urge to give up and just let the darkness take me. But I’ve gone through too much to let go now.

One of them is the antidote, right? Then I’ll take my chance.

I grab the last two, uncapping and drinking them both together, and then I fall fully on my back again, staring at her wide grand ceiling.

"Wow... gutsy. I like that," she comments.

Her voice sounds distant and my vision completely blurs now, fading dark. My body goes numb, my soul detaching from it.

I’m not getting better, only worse.

I’m dying.

It’s not until the final moments of consciousness that I wonder if it was a lie. If none of them had an antidote at all.

* * *

My consciousness returns to the night I was murdered again, in a dream I assumed I was done having, replaying the gruesome ordeal in a more terrifying narrative.

This time I’m running desperately in a forest, barefoot with painful cuts. Knowing it’s a bad dream doesn’t tame the fear, doesn’t fill me with the courage to chase my pursuer.

No matter how fast I run, the distance between us narrows until the blunt blade drives into my lower back.

The pain ripples through me just as vivid as that night. I taste the hatred and betrayal and every other emotion in between.

"You brought this upon yourself," they chuckle in a deep muted voice that’s hardly recognizable.

I topple onto the floor, dying again, with tears in my eyes. Accepting my fate with bitterness as I had that night.

But this time my assailant changes the script and takes off their cloak in front of me, revealing vivid blonde hair in a high ponytail and a wicked delirious grin.

Elowen chuckles, staring down at me with delight, her chuckle echoing into the dark forest.

The fear is enough to force me awake from my nightmare.

I open my eyes, breaking free, and find myself staring up at the familiar ceiling of my bedroom, in my soft and comfy bed, beneath the thick duvet.

Very far away from Elowen and her deviousness.

A wave of relief hits me and I sigh outwardly.

"Calliope," I croak, realizing just how dry my throat is and how much it hurts to speak, squeezing my eyebrows together with surprise and relief to see her.

Her smile is small and exhausted, as the deep bags under her eyes reveal. She leans in to place a palm on my forehead.

"Yeah, it’s me. How do you feel?"

"Everything hurts," I groan.

Every single muscle in my body pulses with overbearing pain, so much that it’s hard to move freely with the weight of my body.

There’s no numbness though. I see I haven’t lost any limbs either, nor my eyesight or hearing, so that’s a good sign.

"It’s going to get better. Try drinking this."

She pulls out a small cup of herbal liquid from the side table.

That’s right, I almost forgot her expertise in herbs and treating illness.

It’s how we met and how we became friends—her nursing me to health after having numerous accidents.

The semisolid liquid jiggles like gelatin in her cup, giving off an awful green smell, irritating my nose the moment I lean closer, but I remind myself how much effort was put into making this for me.

I brace myself and open my mouth, slurping it all down my throat in one go to avoid tasting it, but there’s nothing I can do to avoid the rancid bitter flavor that spreads through my mouth.

I gag, holding back the rising bile.

"It tastes awful."

"That means it will work."

"That’s what they tell kids to make them think medicine needs to be bitter," I argue, ignoring every other possible question surrounding me waking up in this state.

I don’t need to ask about how I ended up like this because I can remember clearly—Elowen’s game.

I was foolish playing into her trap like that. I should have refused her invitation.

Though that would have spun its own set of consequences for disobeying the Luna’s summons, and I don’t trust anyone would have been able to save me then.

I had no choice from the beginning, and she knew. It’s all part of her game—knowing she’s inevitable.

And everyone but me knew it. That’s why Yara had warned me.

That’s why Calliope now tends to me with a small silent smile, unable to truly show a fraction of what she’s really feeling. Why I bite my lips and silently accept my treatment.

But then the final question of how I got here comes to mind. I doubt someone so sadistic would have called Calliope over to make sure I live.

The silent question is answered when something behind her catches my eyes—the other silhouette in the room with us, leaning against the wall by the bed and silently watching our interaction.

All while oozing a deadly, chilling aura that could potentially freeze the entire room.

I realize the other reason why Calliope appears so stiff.

Seeing Azrael now makes our eyes meet.

Cold blue eyes a shade darker than usual stare at me for a moment too long without a word, and I reciprocate with the same silence until he looks away first.

"Leave us," he commands authoritatively, leaning off the wall with small steps that draw him closer but not too close.