well as having locked him in the cage. Geoffrey's
head and neck seemed to more or less function, so he turned to the
side far enough to confirm that he was resting on nothing more than
an aluminum-framed cot.
Reassured
that there wasn't any way to restrain him against such a flimsy bed,
Geoffrey tried once more to roll off of the cot and onto his feet. He
wasn't restrained, but he was the weakest he could remember ever
being. All of his effort barely sufficed to slide one foot off of the
bed so that it could thump against the floor.
Geoffrey
rested for nearly a minute and then tried to force his other foot off
of the cot. The effort was too much for him and a few seconds later
his head collapsed back against the nylon of the cot. He was dizzy,
much more so than the drugs or concussion could explain.
Once
the dizziness passed, Geoffrey craned his head around until he found
the two full bags of blood that had been used to bleed him out. They
were sitting on a small table safely on the other side of the bars
where Geoffrey wouldn't be able to reach them. Imastious hadn't
tortured him, at least not yet, but the older vampire had taken every
other precaution to make sure that Geoffrey would face him in as
weakened a state as possible.
Geoffrey
was still trying to figure out how Imastious had tracked him to
Chicago, when the worn, white door opened and a tall, emaciated
figure walked into the room.
"I'm
glad to see that you're awake, Geoffrey. Normally I would have just
been able to pull what I needed out of your sleeping mind, but the
combination of the drugs and the concussion made that impossible. Now
that you're conscious again, let's get started."
Imastious
had probes arrowing towards Geoffrey's mind even before he finished
speaking and they burrowed into his skull with alarming quickness.
Imastious had hundreds of years of practice behind his efforts, as
compared to Geoffrey's few months of experiences, but Geoffrey had
fought him to a standstill once before.
Geoffrey
hardened the outside layers of his mind at the same time that he used
a blade of mental force to shear through the two probes that had
penetrated the deepest. Imastious countered with a blow of force that
sent tremors through Geoffrey's entire mind, but Geoffrey patched up
the cracks almost as soon as they appeared and visualized a wave of
fire rolling across the surface of his mind, burning the remaining
probes to a crisp before Imastious could launch another attack.
The
first few exchanges of the fight happened in exquisite slow motion to
Geoffrey, but they took less than a second of real time. For all of
their speed and brutal simplicity, they served as a very pointed
object lesson that Geoffrey was operating at much more of a
disadvantage than the last time he and Imastious had faced off.
The
exhaustion would have been enough all by itself, but it wasn't the
only burden he was operating under. Something, either the drugs or
the blow to his head, was slowing his response time and making it
feel as though he was fighting Imastious off from underneath a layer
of water. The battle was taking place inside of Geoffrey's mind,
thereby giving him a kind of home-court advantage, but Geoffrey
couldn't escape the feeling that it wasn't going to be enough this
time.
Imastious
sent a dozen new probes at him, but the hard, slick surface of
Geoffrey's mind allowed them little if any purchase and all but one
of them went skittering away. The last one, the one that didn't
ricochet away, wormed into his mind faster than he would have
believed possible, sprouting decaying roots that expanded like dark
balloons.
Geoffrey
tried to cut the tendril of thought off at its base, but another
hammer blow of force crashed into him just before he managed to
launch his own attack. Geoffrey's aim still felt like it was true,
but the thought-blade that struck Imastious' probe was dull and
brittle. It bounced off of the rapidly thickening line between them
without doing any
head and neck seemed to more or less function, so he turned to the
side far enough to confirm that he was resting on nothing more than
an aluminum-framed cot.
Reassured
that there wasn't any way to restrain him against such a flimsy bed,
Geoffrey tried once more to roll off of the cot and onto his feet. He
wasn't restrained, but he was the weakest he could remember ever
being. All of his effort barely sufficed to slide one foot off of the
bed so that it could thump against the floor.
Geoffrey
rested for nearly a minute and then tried to force his other foot off
of the cot. The effort was too much for him and a few seconds later
his head collapsed back against the nylon of the cot. He was dizzy,
much more so than the drugs or concussion could explain.
Once
the dizziness passed, Geoffrey craned his head around until he found
the two full bags of blood that had been used to bleed him out. They
were sitting on a small table safely on the other side of the bars
where Geoffrey wouldn't be able to reach them. Imastious hadn't
tortured him, at least not yet, but the older vampire had taken every
other precaution to make sure that Geoffrey would face him in as
weakened a state as possible.
Geoffrey
was still trying to figure out how Imastious had tracked him to
Chicago, when the worn, white door opened and a tall, emaciated
figure walked into the room.
"I'm
glad to see that you're awake, Geoffrey. Normally I would have just
been able to pull what I needed out of your sleeping mind, but the
combination of the drugs and the concussion made that impossible. Now
that you're conscious again, let's get started."
Imastious
had probes arrowing towards Geoffrey's mind even before he finished
speaking and they burrowed into his skull with alarming quickness.
Imastious had hundreds of years of practice behind his efforts, as
compared to Geoffrey's few months of experiences, but Geoffrey had
fought him to a standstill once before.
Geoffrey
hardened the outside layers of his mind at the same time that he used
a blade of mental force to shear through the two probes that had
penetrated the deepest. Imastious countered with a blow of force that
sent tremors through Geoffrey's entire mind, but Geoffrey patched up
the cracks almost as soon as they appeared and visualized a wave of
fire rolling across the surface of his mind, burning the remaining
probes to a crisp before Imastious could launch another attack.
The
first few exchanges of the fight happened in exquisite slow motion to
Geoffrey, but they took less than a second of real time. For all of
their speed and brutal simplicity, they served as a very pointed
object lesson that Geoffrey was operating at much more of a
disadvantage than the last time he and Imastious had faced off.
The
exhaustion would have been enough all by itself, but it wasn't the
only burden he was operating under. Something, either the drugs or
the blow to his head, was slowing his response time and making it
feel as though he was fighting Imastious off from underneath a layer
of water. The battle was taking place inside of Geoffrey's mind,
thereby giving him a kind of home-court advantage, but Geoffrey
couldn't escape the feeling that it wasn't going to be enough this
time.
Imastious
sent a dozen new probes at him, but the hard, slick surface of
Geoffrey's mind allowed them little if any purchase and all but one
of them went skittering away. The last one, the one that didn't
ricochet away, wormed into his mind faster than he would have
believed possible, sprouting decaying roots that expanded like dark
balloons.
Geoffrey
tried to cut the tendril of thought off at its base, but another
hammer blow of force crashed into him just before he managed to
launch his own attack. Geoffrey's aim still felt like it was true,
but the thought-blade that struck Imastious' probe was dull and
brittle. It bounced off of the rapidly thickening line between them
without doing any
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