41. Aurelia
Chapter 41
Aurelia
I t takes me a little while to find out what Lady Drakos was apologising for. The next morning when Heather flips open my coverings, there is the tense, bustling energy of an event in the air. It’s like the morning of Xander’s wedding, but worse.
Xander still doesn’t look at me, or talk to me. Instead, he instructs Heather not to give me clothes once again. When I’d returned to my cage yesterday, I’d taken my dress off and hidden it under my blankets so I could cover myself better for bed. Luckily this morning, I’d remembered to take it off before the covers came up.
I stand naked before Olly, Heather and Xander, but this time when he clips his leash onto my collar, he does it by hand.
Silently, he leads me downstairs, Eugene’s wing skimming my ankle to let me know he’s there.
It has the feel of one of those bank heist movies where the high security clearance banker has a suitcase of something valuable handcuffed to his hand to make a bank drop.
Something so precious it needs to be locked up.
Xander leads me to the underground facility where Ghoul, Solomon, and the scientific team wait.
To my great dissatisfaction, today, Mace Naga, Damien Agnis and Flores Drakos are also present. Whatever they think of my nudity is kept to themselves. In fact, everyone is quiet and deadly serious. There are no throwaway jokes or smiles. Even Ghoul has nothing to offer me as I cross the threshold into the lab with the steel table.
“Lie down, Miss Boneweaver,” Solomon says gravely.
“What are you going to do today?” I say, moving towards the table as slowly as I can. With the way the table is set up, my feet are facing the viewing window where everyone sits. It’s an awkward way to lie, especially with my father sitting right there. I perch on the side of it and Eugene flaps up next to me.
“Today we document your condition,” Solomon says. “Please lie down.”
My heart pounds and I break into a sweat. Reluctantly, I swing my legs up, careful to keep them pressed together as I rest my head on the steel.
“The time is oh-nine-hundred,” Solomon dictates, and two serpents document by hand and on laptop. “On November the first.” He peers into my eyes. “Condition of the subject, Aurelia Naga-Boneweaver, is as follows. Forehead: unmarked, both eyebrows present, both eyes are present, irises are cornflower blue, sclera are white with small broken capillaries bilaterally. Bluish bags under eyes. Nose, unmarked—” He squints. “Ruler, please. Oh yes, two millimetre pimple right side of nostril.” To my great dismay, they go on in detail about the condition of my body, down to tiny hairs and blemishes, even beauty marks. They’d done something similar on my first day, but not in this much detail. He briefly mentions my nipples, which is bad enough, but it’s not until he gets to my lower stomach that I start to panic.
“You’ll need to open, Aurelia.”
My eyes snap towards Ghoul, who has silently watched on this entire time, towering over me like a shadowy giant, no sign of the beast who’d fucked me senseless just weeks ago. “But everyone will see.”
“That’s the point,” Solomon declares without emotion. “But if it makes you feel better, Lord Ghoul will temporarily block the sight.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly.
Ghoul casually strides towards the end of the table before crossing his arms. I thought he’d face away from me, but of course the bastard wants to see.
I pull my heels up before flopping my knees out. Solomon whacks on gloves before spreading me open with two fingers. He’s gentle enough, but it’s fucking torture regardless. My toes and fingers curl in disgust. Eugene is sitting by my head, still invisible, and he presses his warm body against my cheek.
It occurs to me then—what they’re doing. The same thing the owner of furniture would do when listing an item for sale online. Documenting that all my parts are present.
That darkness consumes me. The one that’s cold, deep, and black. The one with dangerous gnashing teeth and the eyes that see just a little more.
My feelings get pushed out and away as I sink into the cold.
Solomon is quick, as if he doesn’t want to do this either. “Virginity is not preserved. Vulval anatomy presents as normal and unmarked.”
Normal Aurelia would have snapped her legs shut and glared at the men present. Cold, great white shark Aurelia closes them slowly. Solomon documents the condition of my legs and feet before they draw blood from me. Next, one of their eagles scan my internal organs and they document every one of those as well.
My greatest fear, the one that as thirteen-year-old had me waking up in the middle of the night thrashing and screaming, is going to happen tonight.
The auction.
The key stakeholders are here and their guests will arrive this evening.
I wonder if it will be like what I saw of Scythe’s virginity auction. I’ll have to tell him all about it when I see him next. I also wonder what sage advice he’d give me if he were here.
‘Let them know you’re not prey,’ or perhaps ‘Don’t let them play with your mind.’
“An auction of monsters,” I muse out loud in a cold, deadpan voice.
“The worst,” Ghoul agrees, still standing over me and blocking the view of the onlookers.
“To breed the Boneweaver,” I continue.
Solomon glances at me uncomfortably. “She’s gone cold again. We should consider the obsidian shackles.”
Mace Naga gets to his feet. “Obsidian for tonight, after Lady Hyena has completed her spell.”
If I couldn’t protect myself from my own mates, someone needs to do it for me.
“Even with the obsidian,” Mace continues, “she won’t be compliant for the first.”
The grin that spreads across my lips shows teeth that have shifted into needle sharp points. One of the scientists gasps and Solomon stumbles a step back. “Dear Goddess.”
“I will be a compliant Boneweaver.” My voice is jeering and dark—something from a nightmare. Because if I’m forced to live in a nightmare, the smartest thing to do is become a nightmare myself.
I gnash my teeth. The horrified look on Damien Agnis’ face is truly satisfying as he stumbles into the lab, holding up his box of nimpins. He exclaims, “You must be compliant or I will kill all the nimpins!”
My grin does not falter. “But if you kill them, you have nothing else to use against me.”
Xander finally speaks, his eyes sharp, his stance rigid. “We have Raquel, Spawn.”
“Are my eyes familiar, cursed dragon?” I leer at him. “Do they scare you?”
“Why would you ever scare me?” he snaps.
“Only the frightened reject a mate bond,” I reply smoothly. “Only the frightened rage so hard. Only the frightened curse themselves.” My chuckle is dark and ever-cold. I am a poet. A prophet. My mates would be proud.
Xander pushes Ghoul aside and gets in my face, his own expression fierce, nostrils flaring, eyes flashing. “Then let me ask you this: how long can you stay in this state before the hallucinations appear? How long before you become haunted and demons follow you?”
I laugh in his face. “I am already haunted, cursed-one. I am already mad. The ghosts will be my friends and we will dance a mad dance as we watch you burn in black fire and cold blood.” I tilt my head back and cackle again, only vaguely aware that my great white shark is a crazy bitch.
That suits me just fine.
“Gag her,” Damien Agnis says, distaste twisting his mouth. “I don’t want to hear any more of its talk.”
I point at him. “Spine-less and sperm-less. What’s next for the phoenix lord?”
“Lord Basilisk,” Mace snaps, his coldness rivalling mine.
My gaze turns upon him, my eyes flashing with menace as I meet his malicious eyes. “Regina-killer,” I hiss, just before a ball of thick shadows is shoved into my mouth.
The sensation is all at once strange and amusing. Ghoul’s shadows taste sweet on my tongue. Soft like velvet, powerful like a midnight storm.
My laugh is muffled around the gag of shadows and it makes the beasts all leave one by one, until the only persons left are Xander Drakos, the cursed one, Ghoul, the lord of the dead, and Eugene, my loyal poultry companion.
“It’s another long drive,” Ghoul says, taking both my wrists in his hands and pulling me up and off the steel table. His voice is quiet, but still emotionless. “Don’t do anything stupid while you are like this.”
But I can’t do anything stupid because like this, I’m clever. I respond with a hum as Xander hooks my leash back in place. I stare at them both from beneath my lashes, allowing my loose hair to slide down and frame my face.
Xander exhales through his nose. “You’ll walk in front of me.”
I chuckle knowingly.
Ghoul seems to be of the same mind as I lead the way out, high priestess of the cold deep. “Scared she’ll attack you from behind?” he jeers. “Or are you obsessing over her ass again?”
Xander makes a rude sound, but says nothing.
We head straight outside to the waiting fleet of cars and the army of serpents with drawn automatic rifles.
All this for me? Why, what fun.
“Stay behind,” I warn Eugene. “Where we go is no place for you. ”
I feel his reticence, but he is a good rooster and obeys me.
The drive is long and boring. It gives me time to think, I suppose. Time to disseminate. Time to calculate. I do not know what human Aurelia expected from this surrender to the enemy.
The cold saves me from turning rabid like I did once long before. Though I suppose, in some way, the cold is a shark’s version of rabidity. Because how else could I cope with what I’ve done?
With what is about to happen?
You made this choice , I say to myself. Lady Boneweaver sacrifices for her friends. Sacrifices her skin. Her womb. Her honour. Because tonight, great beasts fight to purchase us. And where once before they used their claws and fangs, tonight, they will use the modern world’s form of power: money.
I sigh, long and low. Eventually, when I close my eyes, I dream of my mates. But it’s not a pleasant dream, because Savage, Scythe and Lyle are covered head to toe in blood.
The truck rumbles to a stop exactly five hours later, and I can tell, even through the thick walls of this vehicle, that we’re in the city. The buzzing energy of humans, animalia and their Saturday night shenanigans vibrates along my skin and hair.
Except it’s not only the buzz of a city at large, is it?
The doors unlock and swing soundlessly open, revealing Ghoul standing there with a lit cigarette in his mouth. Outside wait twice as many guards as usual.
“All this fanfare,” I say innocently, as Ghoul steps into the truck, making it sway side to side. “Who could it be for?”
His shadows are out in full force tonight, making him look like a true entity of the night, barely a limb visible, the edges of darkness twitching expectantly around him like a nightmarish aura. “For me, of course, snakelet,” he says, bending down to unlock both sets of steel shackles from where they’re anchored to the wall of the truck. “They all want a piece of this .” He gestures to himself in a dramatic sweeping motion.
My anima also wants a piece of that. But she’s a nutcase like the rest of her mates, so my shark ignores her.
I’m brought up to standing, and as we reach the edge of the truck, I get to see I have a special guard of honour where we’re parked at the loading dock of a looming, dark building. Serpents line a path on either side, holding automatic rifles on their chests. All seven generals are present, and at the end, Mace Naga, Flores Drakos, and Xander stand like the father, the son, and the holy ghost.
I chuckle at my own joke as Ghoul steps off the truck and hoists me down. That makes me Mary. They expect me to birth the saviours of their species.
Dance music drums in a nearby club and I know it can’t be where I’m headed.
People with the amount of money required tonight, the animalia and human elite, don’t listen to dance music before they make a purchase.
“They listen to the screams of the innocent,” I mutter.
The serpent militia closest glance warily at me as Ghoul leads me by the elbow. They close in behind us, cutting off any hope of escape.
“So cosy,” Ghoul says. “Just one big, happy family.”
The three evil beasts part, revealing something that makes me raise my brows.
“How medieval,” I muse. “How barbaric.”
Because standing before me on ancient wheels is a man-sized birdcage of obsidian and cast iron. The bars are set into a heavy obsidian base, reaching upwards like begging hands until they meet at the top. Along the bars and on the floor, brutal metal spikes are set at intervals, leaving only a small clear space within.
The person who stands in it would be poked by spikes on every part of their body. Unable to move lest they risk being pierced. A total prisoner.
Flores blinks at Ghoul in a bored way as we come to stand in front of them. “You were told to gag her, General.”
“Apologies, Your Majesty,” Ghoul chuckles. “Used to giving orders, not following ‘em.” He gestures to someone behind us and metal passes hands. “Open up, snakelet.”
I eye the ball gag with distaste before opening my mouth. I feel like every damn beast in the vicinity is watching me as Ghoul places the metal ball between my teeth and tightly fastens the straps at the back of my head. The creek of old hinges tells me someone has opened the wheeled cage and I’m being turned around and led to the metal steps built into the platform.
Eyeing the metal spikes, I gingerly climb in, Ghoul’s gloved hand under one of mine. His shadows slide up my forearm in a forbidden caress before he lets me go, and I step over two spikes and into the cage’s centre, making myself as small as possible. Even then, multiple spikes scrape my bare skin on the way in. But it’s not until the door clicks shut that I truly feel the danger of it. Spikes press into the space between my breasts, multiple on my abdomen, two on my kidneys, three on my spine, and two on each thigh and calf. I grimace as the cage begins to roll and one of the spikes draws blood from the motion. Luckily the thing is electronic, with Ghoul remotely driving it with the device in his hands. We head up a ramp into the building in the wake of the two dragons and king cobra.
The corridors are thankfully wide as I’m wheeled through, the serpents forming a procession around me. We finally head into a room, fancy red walls with crimson patterned carpet that reminds me of a casino. It’s bare of anything except a gilded mirror and a lacquered wooden table.
“Get her in there,” Mace Naga says, standing just outside the threshold. “Guard her with your lives. We begin in one hour.”
My cage wheels itself in, stopping right in the middle of the room when the door closes behind us.
I stand stiff, tightly clutching the bars in both hands as Ghoul and Xander prowl around me, staring. Appraising.
Xander sighs. “She doesn’t look good. Why has no one brushed her hair?” He looks around like Heather might pop out of the woodwork, but of course, there are no maids here. “There are bags under her eyes.”
“And what’s this?” Ghoul picks up a bottle of clear liquid that sloshes around like oil with a bronze sheen. He shakes it, chuckling as if the sparkling of it amuses him.
“That’s for her skin,” comes a female voice from one of the soldiers. “It needs to be rubbed in. Looks good under the downlights on stage.”
I am a jewel, after all.
“Here, I’ll do it,” says one of the other generals, stepping forward and eagerly removing his gloves.
“No, you’ll get your scent all over her,” Ghoul snaps, pocketing the oil.
Xander steps up behind my cage, reaches between the bars and expertly runs a brush through my hair, holding the strands close to my head when he hits resistance. He mutters darkly under his breath and I’m suddenly reminded of Lyle and how much he loved to wash and brush my hair for me. It was one of the ways he showed me he cared.
There is no one to care for me here. Only enemies.
The cold threatens to slip as a burning behind my eyes takes over all things. My throat closes up and my breathing quickens as the ball gag makes saliva flood my mouth. Ghoul notices straight away and reaches up to unbuckle the gag. A shadow reaches out, fingerlike but gentle, and wipes at the corner of my mouth.
At that point, a sharp knock comes at the door and the soldiers part as it’s opened. To my surprise, King Flores leads Lady Hyena, and behind him, Fabian Drakos.
“Uncle.” Xander shakes hands with him, and suddenly, I forget why I’m here. The entire room fades away underneath the shaking of those two hands. This is Xander’s family. His people. This betrayal not only belongs to me, but Scythe as well.
And I can’t handle that.
Hot, hot, hot, my body turns, cold icicles morphing into licks of flame. Time passes around me like sludge as Lady Hyena circles my cage, sprinkling something as she goes. Magic to prevent outside influences from reaching me while my magic is put out. Finally, she makes a satisfied noise, but I barely notice it. When everyone else leaves, Xander changes my silver shackles for obsidian magic-dampeners.
All I see are those powerful glowing eyes flashing in surprise at the temperature of my skin. “You fucking coward,” I hiss. “How dare you shake hands with him . The one who hurt Scythe.”
A crease forms between Xander’s brows. “What?”
He doesn’t know.
The obsidian stone hums as it cuts off my power, taking all the anger and heat and funnelling it away. Even so, I’m still livid.
“Scythe never told you who won the auction for his virginity?” My shackles are in place, and Xander steps away from me. I stare him down, hard and brutal. “How could you not have known?”
Ghoul reaches up and shoves the ball gag back into my mouth.
When I can see him again, Xander is acting like I’d said nothing, looking at a pocket watch. “Ten minutes!” he barks. “And then we move out.”
The serpents all flinch at the volcanic boom behind his voice.