Phoenix Rising: Clayton's Story

by SpikesKat

Melinda paced the boundaries of the tiny room she’d been confined to, stopping often before the small window that afforded her a glimpse of the outside world – snow, as far as the eye could see – in the hopes that the view would somehow change. It didn’t, and hadn’t for the months she’d been held captive. 

At first she’d been terrified when a small group of men dressed head to toe in black, their faces painted to match, had suddenly barged into the home she shared with her aunt. She’d scarcely managed a scream before she’d felt a sharp sting in her thigh and had looked down to see a feathered dart protruding from her leg. After that, everything had become hazy, though she had vague memories of being lifted, then a cool breeze as the person holding her had apparently stepped outside. 

When she’d awoken, she’d been alone in the room in which she now stood, buried beneath the covers of the small cot that was pushed against the far wall. 

For days she’d been terrified over every little noise she heard. Crouched in the corner when footsteps grew louder until they would stop outside her door. Peering through the curtain of her hair – a fiery red mop of unruly locks that her grandfather despaired of her ever taming – she’d watched, anxious, as a young man in some sort of military uniform stepped inside the room and placed a tray of food on a nearby table. He’d said nothing to her, nor had any that had come since, so much so that she was starved for some type of human interaction and had taken to talking to an imaginary friend lest she go insane. 

She’d quickly gotten over her fear though, and soon was badgering her infrequent visitors for books to read, yarn and knitting needles, anything to pass the time and relieve the boredom. While they hadn’t acknowledged her at the time, within a day or two, she’d wake to find a small box near the door. In it, the items she’d requested. 

Over all, her time spent in captivity wasn’t bad. If her demands weren’t unreasonable, they were usually granted, so she didn’t want for anything. She still didn’t understand why she’d been kidnapped, and any attempt at conversing with those that brought her meals was met with a blank stare and closed lips. 

It frustrated her, their silence. But, it was second only to the worry her aunt must be feeling, wondering what had happened to her… not sure if she was even alive. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Lawrence bent over the young woman on the table, his weathered features taking in her latest injuries. She was unconscious, thanks to a healing spell he’d muttered under his breath the moment he’d stepped inside the infirmary and seen her condition. 

The soldiers had worked her over, though it was probably only their sheer numbers that had enabled them to gain the upper hand. 

Slayer strength only extended so far. 

“Soon,” he whispered as he brushed Faith’s hair out of her face. 

He just prayed he spoke the truth. Time was no longer on their side. 

Thus far, he’d been forthcoming about his knowledge of the dark arts when pressed, though he’d only skimmed the surface of the wealth of information at his disposal. He feared, however, that soon it would not be enough. They’d want to know more, and quicker… and he worried about the means they’d use to get what they wanted. 

He’d played along, but only because they held the life of his granddaughter over his head, ensuring his compliance. They’d hidden her away, out of the range of his magic. 

Or so they thought. 

The ignorant fools. 

She was close; he could feel it. It was just unfortunate that the people he’d come across thus far were surprisingly resilient to his machinations. Either that, or they truly had no knowledge of Melinda’s whereabouts. 

He just had to remain focused, and wait for his opportunity. 

Sighing, Lawrence shuffled about the table, resetting displaced bones so that Faith’s slayer healing could to do the rest. When he was finished, he released her from his spell, letting her settle into a deeper, restorative slumber. 

The soldier at the door snapped to attention as he stepped away from the table, and Lawrence barely refrained from turning him into a toad. He smiled at the wary look cast his way, and the wide berth he was given as he headed for the door and back to his room. 

‘Smart kid,’ he thought. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Doyle barely had time to get out a quick, “Catch her!” before Cordelia tumbled forward in the grips of a vision, courtesy of the Powers. 

Adam, thankfully, was standing near enough, and easily grabbed her, holding her through the worst of her tremors. 

“Soldiers… demons… a young girl… they’re doing things to her. Weird people in jumpsuits, like the scientists use… biohazard suits… they’re… oh my god…” Cordelia cried out as the riotous images raced through her head and the pain became unbearable. “Make it stop,” she whimpered pitifully. 

Adam frowned at Doyle as he lifted the girl in his arms and quickly bore her to the couch, setting her down gently. His phone rang, disrupting the sudden flurry of movement that followed him into the room. 

“Yes?” he barked into the phone, seeing that the call originated from his office in Texas. 

“Mr. Nottingham?” his executive secretary said into the phone. “I’m sorry to disturb you on your vacation, but Mr. Giles called on your private line and was very insistent that he speak with you right away.” 

“It’s fine. Put him through.” 

“Hello?” Giles’ panicked voice sounded in his ear. 

“Giles, it’s Adam. What can I do for you?” 

“Yes. Well, hello, Adam. I’m sorry for disturbing you, but, well… I’ve just got wind of some rather important news.” 

“I’m listening.” 

“It’s the new slayer. She’s gone missing.”

tbc...

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