Chapter 24
24
Recovered Journal of Dr. Georgia Clark
March 18, Year 1, Emergence Era
Blood that’s more like a virus. Blood free of so many markers, so many ways we’ve always used science to analyze cells now made useless in the face of a brand new set of genetics. If the vampires were actually helpful, instead of sending Valen to sneer at me on a nightly basis, they would have provided me with someone from their ranks who actually knows something about medicine. Or even basic biology. I don’t know their numbers, their backgrounds, or anything more than the little bits of data I get from Valen, but surely there’s a vampire amongst them who knows their way around a microscope?
“ Y ou let her into my room?” I yell down the hallway.
David appears from a few doors away. “You were safe.”
“Safe?” I scoff. “She could’ve ripped my head off!”
“She didn’t. I wouldn’t have allowed it.” He trudges toward me, at least having the decency to look slightly chastened with his downturned gaze.
“That doesn’t mean anything! She could’ve?—”
“I wouldn’t have allowed it because Valen would rip my head off the moment he found out, all right? If I’m good at anything, it’s self-preservation. Relax.”
“I can’t ‘relax’ when you just let anyone waltz into my private space?—”
“Weren’t you two friends?” he asks.
“No!” I huff out a breath. “I mean, yes, but not now, obviously. Now we’re …”
“Did she harm you?” He asks, hands in his pockets.
“Well, no, but?—”
“Just because she’s a vampire doesn’t mean she’s an enemy.” He meets my gaze. “You know that, right? We aren’t all the same.”
“Are you chastising me for wanting to stay alive?”
He shrugs.
“Let me make it simple for you: don’t let strangers into my room!” I yell.
His wings pulse outward for a moment, then retract.
We stand there for a while in utter stalemate.
“What did you get in return?”
“What?” He looks away. He knows damn well what I’m asking.
“She said she had to make a deal with you to get in here. So what did she give you?”
“I’m just a housekeeper, remember?” He gives me an exaggerated bow and turns his back, striding away.
Mouth open, I stare after him. What an asshole.
I eat my dinner in angry silence, my mind constantly replaying the conversation with Fatima. I still don’t know what she thought she’d get from me. Everything I know will eventually be dissected by Whitbine and regurgitated to Gregor. That thought is enough for me to put down the rest of my sandwich, my appetite gone.
I’m fast asleep when a rhythmic knock sounds at the door. David. “Time to go up top,” he calls through the wood.
Though I’d much rather sleep, I don’t want to miss any chances at going outside, so I dress a bit warmer and follow him to the elevator.
“Were you born a vampire?” I ask him as we walk out into the cloudy night.
“Yes.”
“How old are you?” If this was the old days and I just met him somewhere at the university or at a restaurant, I would think he was no older than early twenties.
“Why do you want to know?”
I shrug. “I don’t know how vampires become vampires except vaguely.”
“Learning about your enemy now?” he asks, then continues before I can respond, “I was born about fifty years ago. Young in vampire years.”
“You’re a baby to them.” I peer up at him.
“They treat me like one.” He frowns. “Keeping me here to be a?—”
“Housekeeper. I know, I know. I slip up one time and you can’t let it go.” I give him a half-smile. “Would you prefer ‘butler’?”
“Ugh. Go do human stuff,” he gestures toward the garden as his lips twitch with amusement.
I wander away down my usual path. David and I may not be friends, but he’s right: he’s a vampire, and he’s not my enemy. At least, not yet. Nothing is black and white. Not even this.
I wander past the fountain, the frogs singing in the moonless gloom. Distant lightning flashes infrequently, the thunder too far away for me to hear it. I’m drawn back to Melody’s monument, and I sit and lean my back against it.
I’m still there when a shadow catches my eye.
I freeze, my heart doubling its rate as someone moves from between the hedges.
“Georgia?” he calls, his voice familiar.
I look around for David, but he’s out of sight. Should I yell? I open my mouth to do just that when the shadow becomes clearer.
The redheaded man who’d met with Valen before. He’s here again. The human spy.
I scramble to my feet and move around Melody’s statue, putting it between us. “What do you want?”
“Georgia. It’s Gage.” He holds his hands out, palms toward me. “It’s me.”
Why is he talking to me like that? I don’t know him. “You, who? Gage?”
“Yeah.” He stops on the other side of the monument. In military greens, he blends in well with the landscape, the trees losing leaves and going dormant.
“I don’t know you.” I grip the cold marble.
“You do.” He puts his hand over mine, and I yank it back. He winces, looking almost wounded.
Do I know him? He seems certain I do.
“Were you in the cage?” I ask.
“The cage?” His brows draw together.
“At the Black Cavern?”
His mouth presses into a tight line. “No. I tried to rescue everyone from that hellhole several times, but we never had a chance. Lost a lot of troops in those attempts.”
“Then you know me from before?” I ask.
“Yes.” His eyes search my face. “You really don’t remember?”
“No.”
His jaw tightens. “When Valen told me you’d lost your memory, I couldn’t be sure if he was lying. You never know with them.” He says it with unfiltered bitterness.
“The vampires?”
He nods. “Are you all right?” He grips the stone where my hand had been. “He told me you are, but again?—”
“They lie,” I finish for him. “But yes, I’m mostly okay.” I glance around. “Any chance you could take me with you?”
His eyes soften. “I wish I could.”
“Oh.” I tuck my hands in my pockets. At least he let me down easy, I suppose. None of the gruff Valen hatefulness that I’m used to.
“They say you’re a spy.” I try to test him, to figure out if he, like the vampires, is also a liar.
“I am.” He gives me a half-smile.
“Wait, is that a ‘haha I’m a spy’ or an ‘yes, I’m really a spy’. Mixed signals here.”
“Would a real spy tell you?” he asks.
“Fair point.” I glance at the sullen sky. “I suppose David knows you’re here.”
“Of course I do,” David calls from somewhere beyond the rose tangle.
I stare at him, at Gage. “Were we friends?”
“Yes.” He glances at my mouth.
Were we more ? That question stays in my mind. It’s just a random thought, given his familiarity with me. But there’s nothing in my memory that sparks as I look at him, no heat, no vivid emotion.
“What’s happening out there? How many dead?”
His expression darkens, his posture turning a bit more rigid. “I don’t have numbers. Suffice it to say we’ve been hitting them back hard, but we’re at a severe disadvantage.”
“The plague?” I ask. “Are those numbers bad, too?”
“We don’t know anymore, but it’s still raging. We don’t have the luxury of hospitals or infrastructure. People hunker down at night, even if that means sheltering with people who’ve been exposed to the virus.”
My heart sinks. “So more people die.”
He nods, his expression grim.
“What about the CDC? There have to be some scientists left. The ones you hid in Atlanta.”
He looks away. “All dead.”
“What?” My throat closes up, his words like a physical blow. “All of them? But that’s not possible.”
“The vampires are very good at what they do. Hunting and killing. Everyone you worked with, they were found. The vampires …” He doesn’t have to explain. I know what the vampires do to their enemies, which now includes all of humanity.
Bitterness seeps into my heart, turning that shattered organ black. “Have you found a way to kill them? Other than sunlight? I’ve witnessed silver through the heart—” I repress a shudder at the memory— “and beheading, but what else?”
He moves closer, now the monument the only thing separating us. “You must remember.”
“Remember what?”
“Georgia, you?—”
And then he’s gone, flying back through the rose bramble and crumbling in a heap as the ailing arbor crashes down on him.
My brain can barely do the math as I step around the monument to get to him. “What the?—”
Valen yanks me back, shoving me behind him as he faces Gage. “I warned you, Captain.” Valen’s voice is dark and low. Lethal. His familiar scent washes over me, the outline of his broad back now familiar. If I had a silver blade, would I plunge it through his nice black shirt and into his even blacker heart?
“Fucking hell.” Gage sits up and presses a hand to the back of his head.
I step around Valen. He blocks me. I try again. Blocked.
“Move!” I shove at his back. “I’m a doctor. He’s injured.”
“He’s fine.” Valen glances at me over his shoulder. “Stay.”
“Fuck off!” I yell and dodge around him again.
This time he faces me, and I run right into his chest.
I glare up at him. “He’s hurt!”
“I’m fine, Georgia,” Gage calls.
“See?” Valen smirks. “He’s fine.”
“What was that about? And where the fuck have you been? Fatima was in my room!” My voice is rising right along with my emotions. Everything is always too much, and then Valen pours more gasoline onto the bonfire.
“I’m aware.” He glowers.
Valen whirls, again cutting off my view of Gage. “I told you never to speak with her, Captain.” He’s gone icy, the tone of his voice a few degrees colder than the grave. “I warned you.”
“You were late,” Gage retorts. “Maybe you should keep better track of our meeting times. Or maybe you’re too busy kissing Gregor’s ring.”
I edge to the side so I can see them both. Valen’s eyes are on me, his scowl deepening.
“No, in truth, I was busy slaughtering one of your battalions at the edge of DC, the one you sent in to recover intel from the lab?” His gaze flicks to Gage. “Or were you not going to mention that to me?”
Gage blanches paler in the dim light. “You found them?”
“Of course I found them,” Valen sneers. “Your pathetic bunch of volunteers were spotted a mile outside the beltway. They had no chance. You gave them no chance.”
“Fuck.” Gage runs a hand through his hair.
“David, please escort my guest back inside,” Valen says softly.
David swoops down, his wings blowing the hair back from my face as he lands with a thwump beside me.
“I’d rather stay.” I kick my chin up.
“Since when have I cared for what you’d rather?” Valen asks snidely. “Confused little rabbit, thinking she has any say.”
“Come on, Georgia.” David reaches for my arm, then drops his hand when Valen lets out a low growl.
“I’ll see you again soon.” Gage has the nerve to sound apologetic.
I’ve been dismissed. By both of them.
“Well, fuck you too.” I shoot them both the bird (because I’m an adult) and march right back to the elevator, anger in each step.
“Unlike the captain, I will see you soon, little rabbit.” Valen’s voice slithers down my spine as I enter the carriage and start my descent back to hell.
I’m copying the notes from Valen’s book into my journal when my door opens. Valen doesn’t knock, just walks in and stalks over to me.
I scoot back from him, but he simply prowls over me, pinning me to the bed as he bares his fangs.
I don’t even get the word “don’t” off my lips before his fangs are buried in my neck.
He settles his weight onto me, not all of it, but enough that I feel every hard inch of him. Sliding one hand beneath my back, he holds me to him as he drinks, stealing from me. I can’t fight, whatever compulsion he’s laced into my blood keeping me right where I am. It doesn’t stop me from hating him, though. I don’t think anything ever could. That horrible heat roils beneath my skin, my lips parting on a sigh as my eyes flutter closed. I hate this feeling, this cursed desire he seeds into me each time he violates my flesh. Even as I think it, my hips move of their own accord, grazing my core against his hard cock. Shame tries to coat my desire, but it drains away like water through a sieve, until my need is all that’s left.
He smiles against my skin. The bastard.
When he pulls away, his fangs red with my blood, he doesn’t get up. Instead, he stares into my eyes. Hovering over me. My heartbeat roars, and I wonder if he can feel it where we’re pressed together. My breasts against him, one of his knees between my thighs. Embracing like lovers when we’re nothing but enemies.
“Get off,” I grate out.
“I’m afraid you haven’t done enough to get me there just yet.” He grins, his tongue grazing across his lips as he cleans the blood away. “But I’m open to whatever you might like to try.”
“I hate you.”
“You’ve said.”
“Where have you been?”
He moves his knee higher, pressing it against my sex, causing the flames in my belly to lick higher, deeper.
“Don’t,” I gasp.
“Don’t what?” he taunts and presses his lips to my throat where he’d bitten me. “Don’t drink from my delicious little rabbit?”
“I’m not a goddamn rabbit.” I try to buck him off.
His laugh, deep and sultry, assaults me, and he grabs my wrists, pinning them over my head. “Perhaps you’re not, but you’re mine. If I want to drain you dry, I will. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“You get off on this, don’t you?” I glare at him.
“On you whimpering and squirming beneath me?” He moves his hips, his thick cock pressing against my clit. “I do very much enjoy it. Having you at my mercy.”
“I should’ve let you die.” Hot tears sting behind my eyes even as my back arches.
“Yes.” He nuzzles my throat again, his lips whispering against my skin. Goose bumps erupt wherever he touches, my body reacting though my mind is screaming bloody murder.
When he meets my gaze, his coldness is gone. For a moment, I see more. Heat. The raw sort that makes reasonable people do decidedly unreasonable things. His desire is etched in his handsome face, in the way his gaze lingers on my lips. In the way his need mirrors my own.
Then, in another tiny shard of a moment, it’s gone. In its place, his usual mocking smirk. “Tell me, little rabbit, what did Fatima say to you?”
This question begins an hour-long interrogation, all of it conducted with him pinning me beneath him. My hate grows as my tongue recounts everything I’ve done in his absence. The library, my irritation with David, my time in the garden, my conversation with Fatima. He listens raptly, only asking questions when I stop speaking. When I repeat the part about Gregor dying, his eyebrows move up a hair, but he gives no other reaction.
When he’s caught up to this moment, he grins as I tell him how much I hate him, how badly I want to knee him right in the balls.
“On that note, I must dash.” He stands, his gaze raking over me as I still lay on the bed. “Humans to kill and all that. But I’ll return in a few days for Whitbine’s visit.” His murderous glee subsides a little as he mentions the torturer’s name. “Until then, I suggest you continue your studies, such as they are.” He gives a snide glance to the library book. “Best of luck reading ancient Romanian.”
When he’s gone, whatever compulsions he forced on me finally begin to fade. I roll to my side and curl up, my fingers grazing across the wound at my throat, now closed. Violated again, I don’t even feel like crying about it. There’s no point. My tears have never gotten me anywhere, not in this dark place, and I’m certain they never will.
I’m sitting at the top of the stairs munching on some questionable crackers—they’re stale, but not stale enough to deter me—when David appears on the piano landing below me.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I call.
“What?” He’s always varying shades of grumpy. But he’s not vicious about it, not the way Valen is. He’s more … I guess I’d say, he’s disgruntled. It’s wild how quickly I’ve gotten used to it.
“If you’re Corvidion, why are you here? The three Bloods are all very territorial.” I tap the library book in my lap. “There’s some particularly gruesome woodcuts in here from something called the Sanguine Wars. This was 452 BC, and Dragonis killed so many Corvidion that?—”
“That we were nearly wiped out forever. Yeah, I know. Those are bedtime stories for Corvidion vampires.”
“Bedtime stories?” I grimace and munch another cracker. “Twisted.”
“History.” He shrugs.
“From what I saw at the ball and what I’ve seen in all these books, not much has changed. So why would you be the housekeeper—” I smile when he groans. “—for a Dragonis?”
“Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment.” He leans on the stair rail. “Maybe this is a whole new era for vampire cooperation now that the humans are going tits up.”
I stop chewing. “I know you think that’s a cute taunt. Like ‘haha we’re murdering all of you.’ But it’s really fucked up.”
He shrugs. “I just told you my childhood bedtime stories were about genocidal war.”
“I guess you have a point there.” I chew again, then barely manage to swallow the dry puck of cracker. “Still fucked up,” I mumble. This is my life now, a prisoner whose jailor makes flippant jokes about the systemic elimination of everything I hold dear. It would be funny if it weren’t so fucking dark.
Then another idea hits me. “What if a Corvidion and a Tantun have a baby? Can that vampire fly and have acid blood?”
“The Bloods can’t interbreed.”
“Huh? But I’m assuming you’re all the same species. I’d have to do DNA analysis to know for sure, of course, but?—”
“You going to do that here?” He looks around. “Got all the equipment you need, Doctor?”
“I didn’t specialize in DNA.”
“Right, you focused on blood,” he snorts a laugh.
“Why is that funny?”
“It’s just, I don’t know, ironic, I guess.”
“That’s not irony.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s funny.” He uses the talon at the top of one of his wings to scratch the back of his head.
“Okay, whatever.” I wave a hand at him. “So you can’t have a vampire of more than one Blood?”
“Correct.”
“Then how did Gregor have a child with a human, which once again, I’m assuming is a different species?”
“I don’t know.” He seems particularly disinterested in any line of scientific questions. I’ve learned that about him, too.
“It’s not unheard of. I mean, Neanderthals and Homo sapiens were breeding. Same genus, different species. The Neanderthals eventually died out and humans became the dominant organism.” My thoughts darken at the current ‘dying’ breed. Mine.
“Uh huh.” He isn’t listening.
Just about every conversation we’ve had goes in a similar fashion. I ask questions, he answers a few, and then he zones out. He may be in his fifties, but he’s more like one of my college students. Nineteen and clueless. Maybe vampires develop at slower rates because of their long-lived nature?
“Hey, do you know if you age at a slo?—”
“Shh.” He puts a finger to his lips.
“What?”
He glares at me and presses his finger tighter to his lips.
I look around, unsure of what’s going on. There’s nothing. Not the slightest sound—in a sudden burst of movement, he flies upwards. “Get to your room!” he shouts. Then he disappears over the railing and down to the lower levels.
I gawk for only a moment, then rise and rush down the hall. The sharp bite of his voice nips at my heels. He’s never been that serious before.
Once I’m inside, I press my ear to my door and listen. Long moments go by, my heartbeat the only sound I can make out. If there’s something going on, it’s too far away or too quiet for me to catch it.
I back away and wish for the hundredth time that I hadn’t wasted my dagger on Valen. Ducking behind my bed, I crouch down and wait. It’s the only place I can stay slightly hidden while also getting a view of the door. Did the husks get out? Is Valen back unexpectedly? What had David so concerned?
If there’s someone here, I have to hope they aren’t after me. Unless, of course, it’s a rescue. That thought is like a tiny explosion in my thoughts. I’ve never pondered that possibility. No one even knows I’m here. Just the redhead—Gage. All the people who cared about me are dead, and if there are others, I don’t remember them. Add to that the impossibility of breaking into this vampire stronghold, and my chances of getting a ticket out are nonexistent.
My breath catches when my door opens. Black shoes, black dress pants. It’s not David. He favors sneakers and jeans. Somehow, I know it isn’t Valen either. My hackles rise as they step farther into my room.
“You can come out, Georgia. I know you’re there.”
Everything in me curls into a tense ball at the sound of Whitbine’s nasal voice.
“Allow me.” He comes around the bed and grabs my arm, yanking me upright.
“Hey!” I shove at him.
“Bringing back memories of our first meeting.” He grins, his fangs long and sharp. “What a pleasure it was to make your acquaintance then. Even more enjoyable now.”
My skin crawls as I look up at him, at the seething darkness in his eyes. “You can’t come in here. Valen will?—”
“Our Lord Specter is otherwise engaged. And you owe me answers.”
In the space of a heartbeat, he latches onto my throat, his fangs digging in painfully as he grips my upper arms. It burns, the intrusion far more violent, more damaging than Valen’s snakelike bites.
Whitbine clamps down harder, and I realize the difference. Whitbine is enjoying the pain he’s inflicting, so much so that he groans with pleasure as I whimper.
“David,” I call weakly. “David!”
Whitbine finally lets up, my blood smeared on his mouth and dripping down his chin as he meets my eyes. “He’s been detained, I’m afraid.” He licks his lips. “There it is.” He closes his eyes as if relishing the taste. “What I’ve been missing.”
I can’t move, his hands still gripping me tightly.
“You have been tainted.” His eyes open, the pupils dilating rapidly. “Compulsion is running through you, far stronger than I’d realized. I missed it during our sessions at the Black Cavern, perhaps because I didn’t know to look for it.”
“I don’t know?—”
“Silence.”
My mouth snaps closed, his compulsion overcoming my will. He must’ve put his own blood into the bite.
“Compulsion and something more,” he says thoughtfully. “Something …” He focuses on me again, a grin peeling his lips back from his teeth. “Something impossible. My, my, my. Valen, how very clever. Unexpected, truly.” He squeezes me tightly. “A treasure. I must get you to Gregor immediately.”
No ! I fight his grip, desperately trying to get free, to run, to do anything to get away.
“Stop struggling. Follow.”
I walk behind him, my movements robotic as I trail behind him. Out of my room, down the hall, and down the stairs into the blackness below. I shudder as we pass by the husks level and then into the pitch blackness beyond. I can’t see anything, but my body obeys his command, descending the steps into the abyss. Panic expands in my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. Still, on he goes. Down, down, down. And I follow. The air growing dank and clammy, sulfur in every breath.
I slow and stop, then hear something creak. My legs carry me forward, and I step up, the floor moving slightly beneath my feet.
“Sit,” Whitbine purrs in my ear.
I do. I’m in his lap. My gorge rises as he puts one of his hands on my thigh.
We move. In the absolute dark, we’re moving, the sounds of creaking and metal all around us.
“Why so stressed?” His hot breath is at my ear. “You’re perfectly safe down here… With me.”
I’m trapped in my own head, unable to speak, unable to exercise even one shred of control over my body. I shouldn’t be here. All this time I’ve spent working on ways to escape the castle, but this isn’t it. This isn’t escape. It feels more like a kidnapping, and it won’t end well for me. What am I going to do?
“These tunnels were built ages ago. New ones have been created over the years, of course. We certainly do like to get around.” He chuckles, his hand moving further up my thigh. “But the sun is quite limiting. Not down here.”
This is how all the vampires came to the ball. Through tunnels. Deep underground. How many are there? How far do they go? Will David be able to follow, to find me? Is he even still alive? There’s no way he would’ve allowed Whitbine to take me like this. Unless … unless he made a deal, like the one with Fatima. My heart sinks. He sold me out.
“Sadly, these tunnels no longer connect directly to the Black Cavern. Gregor wisely realized that no one should be able to reach him too easily. We’ll have to wait out the day. Only a few hours of it left. Then we’ll reach our destination.” His tongue flicks along my ear, and I scream inside my head, my body going cold. “I’m glad we’ll have some alone time before then. Just you and me. I’ve no doubt you won’t leave the Black Cavern alive. That’s never been a problem for me, generally speaking, but the issue is you won’t be in one piece, either.” He sighs. “So I’ll need to enjoy you before then. I should’ve done this long ago. I don’t know why I didn’t. I had you on my table. Hmmm.” His hand moves higher as silent tears roll down my cheeks.
I shake, an involuntary action that even he can’t control.
Inhaling at my neck, he says, “Your fear smells amazing. Like cold rain on dying flowers.” He bites me again, ripping my skin with a raking motion before locking on.
I can’t scream, only suffer. His grip tightens painfully on my thigh as he sucks. Weakness comes over me in a wave. Blood loss. Maybe I’ll pass out. Please, let me pass out .
We jolt to a stop, and he tears himself free of my throat. Blood soaks through my shirt, dribbling down my back and chest.
“Follow,” he commands again, his voice raspy as he yanks me to my feet.
I move sluggishly, then wince as light erupts from somewhere overhead.
“In here.” He leads me into an elevator. The machinery coughs and shakes as we rise, finally stopping where the light is brightest. The doors open, and I follow him into a sitting room that’s straight from the Victorian period. No windows here, but there are lights around the room. A shelf along one wall is filled with jars. As I move closer, I see that each jar contains a severed head. Then the smell hits me, and I dry heave. Another reflex, not something to be controlled.
“We all have our little knickknacks, don’t we?” He chuckles and continues deeper into the house, past a dining room with a body splayed out on the table. A woman, her flesh stripped back and pinned beside her, her organs rotting and flies buzzing all around. “A failed experiment.” He sighs. “I’m sure you understand, don’t you Doctor? We can’t be brilliant at all times, no matter how hard we try.”
I dry heave again even as my feet continue to move, following him through the dining room, into a long hallway, and then up a staircase.
We enter a bedroom, the walls covered with pale leather, the bed unmade, more jars, these filled with body parts.
He stops and turns to me as he reaches for the buttons of his shirt. “Lie down on the bed.”
No! I try to force my feet to stick to the floor, to glue myself right where I am. It doesn’t work. Tears erupt in freshets as I obey.
“In the center,” he adds.
I move, lying on his bed, the scent of death invading my nose, staining every pore. Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t. The words repeat themselves in a litany in my head. But I can’t speak. And even if I could, I would be ignored.
He strips his shirt off, his skin sallow, then crawls onto the bed.
I shiver so violently that I bite my tongue. Blood. More blood.
Reaching to his nightstand, he grabs a pair of surgical scissors.
I stare at them, their silver glint. Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.
He grips the bottom of my shirt and cuts an easy trail up the center, then spreads it open. With another click of the scissors, he cuts through my bra. Cold air hits my skin, and I clench my eyes shut, trying to be anywhere but here.
“Oh no,” he tsks. “You must watch me.”
My eyes open.
“I want to know if you approve of my methods.” He grins and gets to his knees, then slides down the bed and grabs one of my ankles.
He cuts up one leg, then another. Taking his time. Enjoying my tears as I’m forced to watch everything he does.
Terror, the sort that blocks out everything else in your mind, consumes me. And for the first time in a while, I want to die. I want to die right now before he goes any farther.
He pulls away my tattered denim and plucks the edge of my panties. The scissors go shick . On the other side, shick .
“It’s a shame I can’t add this beautiful skin to my collection.” He gestures toward the walls. That’s when I realize they aren’t covered in leather. It’s human skin. Dozens of sheets of human skin.
Sitting back on his knees, he stares down at my naked form. “So very pretty. But I can make you even more so.” He opens the scissors and runs the blade across the top of each of my breasts. I gasp, but I can’t speak, can’t scream. There’s nothing I can do to stop the pain or the blood that oozes from me. “A masterpiece already and we’ve only just gotten started.” He reaches for his belt.
I try to close my eyes. I want to close my eyes. To dissociate. To be anywhere but here. I can’t.
“Shall we begin?” He comes down over me, his hands spreading my legs.
The bed shakes.
His forehead wrinkles.
No, not the bed, the entire house shakes, one of his disgusting jars breaking on the floor. He sits up. “What the?—”
Then his head turns all the way around, the bones snapping.
Valen roars, his hands at Whitbine’s temples as he spins it again, then again, Whitbine’s neck turning to a grisly mush as Valen treats it like the lid of a soda bottle. Whitbine lets out a gurgled yell that’s quickly subsumed by the ripping of flesh and tendon.
With a slight yank, Valen pulls his head clean off and smashes it onto the floor. He brings his boot down on it again and again, uncaged fury turning him into a blur of movement.
I breathe in and let out a scream so raw and horrible that Valen finally stops grinding Whitbine into the floor.
Without a word, he strips his jacket off and drapes it over me, then scoops me from the bed.
Crying, I cling to him and close my eyes. I can’t look anymore. I can’t be here. I don’t want to be here.
“Please,” I yell, hysterical. “Please make me sleep! Please!” I scream.
He lifts me to his mouth and kisses me. I catch the slightest taste of his blood, and then I’m gone.