Chapter 4 #2
The dagger clatters against the wood of the table as he finishes his carving, a final curved slicing from hip to hip.
The body twitches, a single foot lifting from the table before dropping back down with a thud.
Gore plunges his fingers inside the opening, using the backs of his big hands to shift aside organs and intestines as he digs for what he needs.
Almost like a silent surge, the crowd moves in closer, the air thick with anticipation when he retakes the dagger, all of their eyes glued to my brother, using the too large blade to extract the uterus.
Only when he rips it free, blood spilling out of the warm body, flowing over the edges of the table, does he smile.
“Vita nova!” he grins broadly, holding up the bloodied organ.
His sleeves drenched, light brown, tattooed skin painted crimson, “Brothers,” he beckons.
Turning towards us, a dark gleam in his green eyes, “let us begin.” As his second, I step up to him first, his bloodied thumb painting an inverted cross down the centre of my forehead, his hand dropping, face in mine, he whispers, “Vita nova, Two.”
His kiss comes to my cheek, my left then right, and then my own hand dips inside the body on the table, coating my thumb and fingers in red to drag a matching symbol down his forehead to match mine, “Vita nova, One.”
Gore blesses Bram and Tolly before moving on to his Pair.
Dolly’s glazed eyes peer up at him like he’s a god, swaying slightly as he steps into her.
And even though she’s not entirely present right now, lost somewhere deep inside her head, she still smiles up at him shyly as he brushes his thumb down and across her forehead.
Kissing her cheeks and then her lips, whispering words over her mouth not quite loud enough for any of us to hear. Then he turns to me.
With a nod of his head, I turn towards Nellie, her big eyes wide on mine, only mine, her dark gaze flickering to the symbol on my skin.
“Nellie,” I summon, her feet already bringing her closer, eradicating the few small steps between us.
Hands trembling at her sides, she watches me reach back, dipping my fingers once more into the blood.
With my clean hand, I lift her chin, tilting her head back so she’s only looking at me.
Holding her steady, a shuddery breath slipping out of her, I start to paint the first line down the centre of her forehead, from her hairline down, stopping just above her brows.
Her small hand snaps up as I begin the horizontal line, fingers closing tightly around my wrist, but she doesn’t stop me, doesn’t try to pull me away, and a weight in my chest starts to lift. With her cooperation.
Submission.
She lets me complete the symbol, her entire body trembling as I dip my face down to meet hers, my lips brushing a kiss to both her cheeks.
“Vita nova,” I breathe over her mouth, our lips touching with the words. “Now say it back, Little Lamb,” I instruct her in a hush, waiting patiently for her compliance.
“Vita Nova,” she whispers breathlessly over my mouth, our lips connecting for the briefest moment, and predictably, at our finishing, everyone else starts to crush forwards.
My arms wrap around Nellie, sweeping her out of the way as the rest of The Obsidian members swarm the table.
Hands and fingers pushing inside the body, tearing pieces off, swallowing pieces down, every member has their own ways to ensure they successfully reproduce this coming year. The Obsidian needs to continue to grow.
Nellie is still in my arms as I carry her down a narrow side hall, my shoulders almost brushing the dark green wallpaper panelled walls either side.
Sconces flicker to life as we pass, motion sensors killing the shadows in our presence.
I can feel my brothers at my back, Rune, the rest of our small inner circle, all silently following behind, but Nellie’s face is buried in the base of my throat, her breathing quickened, she doesn’t know they’re there.
“I’ve got you, Little Lamb, you’re doing so good,” I tell her as I make my way to the very end of the corridor.
“Making me so proud,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the top of her head, her feet still lifted from the floor as I reach for the door, holding her up with only one hand.
“Everything you’re doing is for us, so we can be happy. ”
“Okay,” she whispers back, shivering as I push open the heavy door, letting it slam closed at our backs, the cold air in the empty room wrapping around us both like the devil’s fingers are curling around our souls.
“Just a little more to do, then we’ll be done for tonight, okay, baby girl?” She nods as I place her feet down on the floor, leaving her to stand there alone for a moment as I get the lights.
Warmth glows from the sconces, illuminating the space just enough to see.
The huge stained glass windows on the far wall at Penelope’s back glint with the soft light, the three of them showcasing a story of two brothers that fought over one woman, one of them walking away with nothing but his truth, the other getting the girl and forming The Obsidian.
A mosaic tiled pentagram beneath her feet, a simple black altar at her back.
Nellie stares at me, waiting. Always waiting for me, for instruction, for love.
And in her pink dress, her long dark brown hair in waves over her shoulders, bloody inverted cross on her forehead, those deep brown eyes ringed in black staring only at me.
To be her saviour, to be her villain, to be her monster.
Her Pair. I realise, for what feels like the first time, how much I really do love her.
Obsession hooked its claws in me over twelve long years ago, it never let go, it gave me the fire I needed to keep going. To find her. To get her back. And now she’s here, it’s like an out of body experience. I can hardly believe it.
“Penelope,” I say slowly, my voice husky and thick, heavy with each syllable of her name. “Are you ready to continue our Pairing? To give yourself to me fully.”
I take a single step closer, too much of a distance between us, but I need to hear her say it.
I need her to tell me of her own accord.
Without influence or pressure from me. Not that I’m sure that’s the case anyway.
I both love and fear she’ll always try to tell me what I want to hear.
Then I think of the way she fisted my hair earlier, wrenching my head back to spew venom across my lips, and the fear drops out of me.
Lust and some warped sort of pride thrums through me and I feel myself stand taller.
Her eyes are wary on mine, her nipples pebbling beneath the silky fabric of her pale pink dress, her chest a smattering of goosebumps, spreading across her shoulders, down her arms. She pins me with her gaze like a butterfly’s wings to a board, and then she takes a step forward at the same time as I.
Compelled by some higher power than both her and I.
“I’m ready,” she barely whispers, the words a cold plume of breath from her parted lips, but I hear them, solid and true.
My lips curl in a smile as opposed to a smirk, something I so rarely can muster, but with her, with my Little Lamb, I envision myself doing it more and more.
“Be a good girl for me,” I whisper back, the space between us still too great, but we’ll be forced together soon enough. “Do as I say.”
She nods, her big, dark eyes blinking at me, “Always, Billy.”