The elephant dose of vervain knocked me out quickly, before I hit the floor – if I ever did, since the last thing I remembered was a feeling of hands catching me before I did. There might have been three of them. With vervain still burning in my veins like hellish fire, I found myself slowly shifting from the depth of oblivion to the real world around me, which wasn’t happy to accept me back. My head hurt, nausea twirled in my gut – it was the worst hangover I could not even remember from my human days. It was hard to breathe, and every shallow breath I took hurt my chest and rang a bell inside my head, adding to how terrible I already felt. A low groan slipped from me, and I didn’t recognize it as my own at first. Only when my throat reacted with dry, sharp pain as though it had been rubbed with emery. My eyes refused to open for a long time, and a few voices around me were nothing but white noise until someone shook me, making me think I was about to have a stroke.
An involuntary, strangled groan escaped me again before I flexed my muscles, probing at the restraints, and laughed weakly. “Ain’t you a bunch of brave soldiers afraid of just one me.” As the blurry picture before my eyes started to get into focus, the first figure to stand out was a black guy with fierce glower directed at me. Isn’t that Marcel by any chance, I thought, returning a hazy, but cold look.
- Blood Ties (7)