3. Sandro
Sandro
Now
T he partition was thin and flimsy, so even though I was supposed to have some privacy behind it, I was still exposed to everything.
Or at least I felt exposed.
The fire burning in the middle of the cavern created all sorts of spooky shadows around the walls, only adding to the feeling I was being watched. That I was being perved on.
How had I ended up butt-naked in an old witch’s den?
Ah, that’s right. When I realized my death was imminent. That would do it.
Despite the relative warmth provided by the fire, I had goosebumps all over my body, and I couldn’t help but stand with my hands in front of my bits.
If this was some perverted sex thing, I was going to kill Tomasz for convincing me to come here.
Was this what he’d had to do to get Loki? Had he been stripped and had to wait behind a stupid little privacy screen for the witch to come back?
This feels so wrong.
If it weren’t for my condition, I would dash out of here. But I couldn’t, could I? My death sense had tingled, and it told me I was as good as dead.
Did I have a month? A week? A day? I didn’t know. But I knew it was close. My death day was coming.
So that was why I wasn’t running. To hell with being naked. To hell with being peeped at. Fuck, I’d even stand there and let the old witch wank me off if it meant I lived another day.
“That won’t be necessary, witchling.” Her voice echoed across the room before she even stepped into it.
I peeked from behind the screen to see her walk into the room carrying a glass vial. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”
Although, in all fairness, it wasn’t my fault she invaded the privacy of my mind without regard for boundaries.
And yeah, I know you heard that too.
“I apologize for my directness, young man. I’m an old woman but still too impatient for today’s youth. Besides, I prefer to deal with the truth inside the brain than the lies you people tend to speak nowadays.”
She came to stand in front of the screen with a hint of a smirk I didn’t appreciate. I needed her more than she needed me, so whatever my thoughts about her, I kept my mouth shut and my feet firmly planted.
“What-what’s next?” I asked.
She lifted her arms and showed me the vial in her hands, a glass bottle with a milky liquid swirling inside.
“This. You need to rub it all over your body.”
I grimaced.
“What is it?”
She took the lid off with a pop and passed me the bottle.
“The anointing oils of the Greek gods. Ambrosia,” she said. “Or, well, the closest thing we have to it. I’m afraid the recipe was lost over the centuries, but it’s what we have.”
I took it from her and put my nose over the opening, taking a deep breath.
It smelled sweet and spicy.
“What’s in it?”
“Milk, honey, cinnamon, and olive oil,” she said, and I tipped the glass to take a taste. “Also, your lover’s blood.”
I stopped.
“Lover? What lover? I don’t have a lover?”
“You’re about to be reunited with him, or have you forgotten?”
No, I hadn’t forgotten, but she hadn’t been making much sense in the first place, so excuse me if I wasn’t entirely clear about what the hell was going on.
“And this is going to heal me?”
“It’s not.”
“Then why am I rubbing it on my body?”
The witch turned her back to me and started walking away from me slowly.
“Your godmate is…he’s a very special god. And ruthless. We need to anoint your body and soul to help him recognize you, or else he might kill you. It will also bring your souls closer together. Think of it as a spiritual cleansing. And a shield.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Mother Red Cap glanced at me and smiled. “Don’t worry, dear witch. He won’t kill you. This is a precaution. A precaution, might I add, that has to be taken with all the Greek gods. I don’t know if you know their stories, but they can be very…temperamental. And ritualistic. They love their rituals. So…get on with it. You can’t waste any more time.”
I looked at the bottle and then the witch, and with a deep breath, I tipped some of the liquid into my hand. It immediately started dripping between my fingers. Despite the low light, I thought I detected a pink hue to the substance—the blood coloring the milk.
What the hell am I doing?
“This better work, woman. I’m putting a lot of trust in you, and you’re not a big fan of answers, are you?”
I sighed and slapped the soaked hand over my heart before smearing it over my body. I tipped a bit more of the substance and spread it over my shoulder when a ceremonial hum almost made me drop the glass.
When I looked from behind the partition, I found Mother Red Cap standing in front of the fire, eyes closed, humming before she started singing in a tongue I didn’t know nor understand. It deepened the goosebumps on my skin and made me feel even more naked.
The more I dabbed, the more on edge I felt, the faster my heart pounded.
I hope this is it. I hope this is the answer.
I’m running out of options.
An image of a body, my body, submerged in a bathtub full of pink-hued milky water crossed my vision and made my heart stop and the oxygen in my lungs chill for a moment. Then another, before I returned to the room feeling even more exposed than before.
I shivered audibly, and after a moment’s pause, I resumed the anointing. When I had used all of the oil, I covered my private parts again by slipping on my underwear. I stepped out from behind the screen, and the witch stopped singing.
“Now what?”
“Follow me,” she said, walking over to a door.
It led to a tunnel. The cold beneath my feet shot straight to my spine, and my heart raced. Either I was saving my life, or I was about to lose it. And the worst part was there was no telling which it would be.
After a stroll that might as well be miles, she stopped and pushed a door open.
I peeked inside. It was a small, candlelit cave, but as I froze on the spot, my legs wanted to run away, yet my mind wanted to see this craziness through.
There was a body there. In the middle of the room. Lying on a bed. Was it a gurney? Whatever it was, it held a body just as naked as me.
“Go on,” she urged behind me.
Her voice jolted me to action, and I crossed the threshold, stopping short of the body as she joined me in the room and closed the door behind her.
“What now?”
I watched the body—the man—in front of me, and I swallowed a knot. He wasn’t breathing.
A fog blurred my vision, and for a moment or two, the image of a naked man touching my arms, stroking the back of my neck, even the small of my back overtook me. I couldn’t see his face, but he felt…cool and familiar.
When the image dissipated, I had goosebumps all down my spine.
Great. Just what I needed. More random visions while doing the most important thing in my life.
“Those visions are anything but random, young man,” the witch said with a knowing smirk before she raised a hand from under her robes and revealed a knife. “Now, back to business.” It was the same knife she’d used to cut me earlier. Had she even sanitized it? She gave it to me and walked around the man, standing opposite me. “Stab him.”
“What?”
The dagger was cold and foreign in my hand, pulling me out of focus for a moment. My heartbeat accelerated even more and the throbbing in my ears made it hard to hear her.
Either that or my aids had gone bust.
“Stab the body. Near the heart is preferable. And do hurry up. He’s decomposing by the second.”
I shook my head.
“I…I can’t. Why would I stab him?”
“It’s part of the ritual, young witch. What are you afraid of anyway? He’s already dead. He’s been dead for years.”
Well, when she put it that way.
I stepped closer to the man and stood over him, feeling incredibly giant in front of him.
I couldn’t help but notice the smoothness or the ivory color of his skin. And it was hard not to notice the high cheekbones or the prominent Adam’s apple.
Yeah, he may be dead, but he looked as if he was sleeping.
“Are you sure?” I asked her.
“Do it.”
I inhaled.
This is it. This is all or nothing.
I had run out of options.
And if the way the blood drained from my body or how I was feeling was any indication, even my body knew it.
I raised the knife over the man’s chest and with both hands —this better work —brought it down to his chest. The knife went rigid as I dug it deeper with more difficulty than I could have imagined, and the squelching of blood pierced through my hearing aids, making me feel sick.
I watched the bloodbath before me, but nothing happened.
What the fuck?
I glared at Mother Red Cap and picked some choice words for her, but before I managed to open my mouth to let her have it, someone snatched my hand.
Him.
And when I looked down at the previously dead man, his eyes were open.