Darkness.

That was all Nicholas could see. Absolute darkness. It was unfortunate that he didn't possess the cat-like night vision that his brother did. However, he didn't even know if his eyes were open. He felt numb. All of his senses seemed to have shut down. The only thing he could hear was his own blood running through his veins. [i]That's it,[/i] he thought. [i]Hearing. I can still hear.[/i] Progress. He felt as though he were teaching himself how to use his senses again. Slowly, his eyes cracked open to a blinding light. When he tried to move his arms, he found them bound by leather to whatever he was lying on. His vision forced itself into focus, and he was staring up at a bright, low-hanging light. Almost like one you would find in a dentist's office.

[i]Breathe.[/i]

The voice that whispered this was not his own. It was foreign, and it was feminine. Nicholas felt the faintest breath of familiarity in that voice, but not a comfortable familiarity. Not a comfortable one at all. He tried to shift, to move, to lie on his side or [i]something[/i], but both his hands and his feet were bound to the table that he laid upon. The movement only succeeded in bringing the pain of his wound back into existence.

[i]Breathe.[/i]

It was the second time he'd heard the word, and only then did he realize he was [i]not[/i] breathing. An enormous, gasping breath filled his lungs, as if he'd just emerged from underwater. Everything else about the room came into focus, other than the light that he'd been so vehemently studying. However, the room wasn't much. The walls in front of him were painted white and the floors were white tiles. It reminded him horrendously of the laboratory that he'd escaped from with Mattie and Jacob only three and a half years ago. He became conscious of not only the low, repetitious beeping by his ear, but the needles and tubes protruding from his forearms.

"Breathe, Nicholas."

Appearing above him was a surgical mask hiding a beautiful face with blood-red hair wrapped into a bun.

"Alice?"

[hr]

"What did you just-"

Mattie had already sped past Jacob before he could get his question out. The scene had played out so quickly that he didn't even get to respond to her previous snarky comment. It was getting right tiring, saving Nicholas' life over and over again. If there was one thing Jacob missed about not having a sense of morality, it was being responsible for his own life only. Now, he felt responsible for not only Nicholas' life, but even Mattie's, and any other innocent that came along. It was [i]tiring.[/i] He took off behind Mattie anyway. She was heading back toward the motel. Why, Jacob couldn't fathom, because he had [i]just[/i] been there and there was not anything that could help them find his brother.

Except he was wrong.

Before Mattie rounded the corner that would lead her to the room, Jacob stopped her, only saying, "Wait." He tried to say it politely enough that she wouldn't take offense, but expected her to do so anyway. Nonetheless, he'd made his point, and he quickly stepped in front of her. It appeared his instinct was right, for when he looked into the room, there sat upon the bed where Nicholas once lay a tall, thin, and pale woman with long black hair that was as straight as a board. On her face, she wore a grim smile. One that sent chills up Jacob's spine. He inhaled slowly through his nose and tried to compose himself.

"Morrighan," he said, "What did you do?"

"Oh, [i]I[/i] didn't do anything," said the woman, voice as harmonious as a symphony. In her hand was the obsidian shard, and she tossed it up and down like a baseball. "But I can show you where he is."