23. Aliana
ALIANA
“There’s no use fighting, fanger slut.” The cold voice shoots down my spine, brushing across my sensitive skin like an ice cube.
Terror clamps down on my heart and stills my lungs. I can’t drag my attention away from the huge, terrifying monster smirking down at me.
This monster… He’s hideous. Four tentacles slither across the ground like sentient snakes, and purple eyes blaze back at me, visible even in the darkness of the building.
No, not purple eyes… On closer inspection, I realize it’s one eye located in the center of his forehead.
One eye, but two irises and two pupils. It’s the strangest thing to stare into, and that familiar pang of dread sizzles like a fire in my stomach.
Still, I don’t allow that fear to show on my face as I crouch down and tighten my fingers around the tiny switchblade I found in the Devourer’s art studio.
“You don’t want to hurt me,” I warn him, baring my teeth in a semblance of a soundless growl. “I belong to the Devourer—” I try not to vomit as those words leave my mouth. The Devourer doesn’t own me—no man or monster does—but if his apparent claim on me keeps me alive, then so be it.
The monster’s face twists then, and something that’s probably supposed to be a smile tugs up the corners of his cracked lips.
“And that’s exactly why you’ll die tonight.” He speaks as if that’s a fact of life—the sky is blue, the grass is green, and oh, you’re going to die.
Fear explodes in my bloodstream as I hold his strange stare.
And then, before I can think things through, consider the ramifications of my actions, I toss the knife I’ve been holding at his face.
I don’t wait to see if it’ll make contact.
Instead, I skirt to the side and race down an empty hall.
My heart thrashes in my chest as his bellow of rage echoes behind me, bouncing off the walls.
I just need to find an exit, find a way to escape—
A rough appendage wraps around my hair and yanks my head back. A startled yelp escapes me, though the sound is quickly muffled when one of his tentacles closes over my mouth like a putrid-smelling, slimy gag.
“Why are you running, fanger slut?” His voice is a husky murmur, and cold, insidious panic crackles to life in my belly. “You should know that I’m faster. Stronger. Better.”
I can see my death flash before my eyes, and I know with unwavering certainty that I want to live.
I need to live. It honestly takes me by surprise.
I’ve grown complacent over the years, trudging through life with a wild abandon, not really caring if it strikes me down.
But now… Now, I know I want to live. I want to survive and grow and flourish despite this world continually trying to smother me.
When I first saw this monster in the abandoned building, my fight-or-flight response urged me to run, but now, it screams at me to attack, to take this beast down.
I force my body to go limp and pliant in his arms, as if I’m giving up, and his dark chuckle curls around me like smoke.
“Maybe I’ll make this quick,” he muses, and I know that if I were to twist around and see his expression, his eyes—or eye, as the case may be—would be glinting with wicked amusement. “Or maybe… Maybe I’ll make you suffer.”
A tiny whimper of fear escapes me—a noise I don’t have to completely fake.
Either way, it does the job, and his hold on my body loosens ever so slightly as he prepares to do who knows what to me.
The second his grip goes slack, I take my chance, reaching down to grab the scissors from my pocket and stabbing them into the tentacle wrapped around me.
Blood wells instantly, a vibrant shade of red, and he hisses out a breath of pain.
“You fucking bitch!” he bellows as I shove the mutilated tentacle away.
I ignore his outrage, abandoning my scissors as I fall to my feet and immediately continue racing down the hall. I need to find a way out of here—a door, a window, something. Didn’t I read before that most rooms from the olden times required a window in case of a fire?
Where the fuck are they?
Adrenaline pounds through my system, and all I can hear is the poignant clap of my combat boots against the cement floors. I suddenly wish I had found pants. My short lingerie dress and green bathrobe don’t feel like nearly enough protection right now.
I reach a fork in the hall, and instinct propels me to the right…only for my entire body to freeze and convulse when I notice I’ve just walked myself into a dead end.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
“Well…well…well…” The monster’s voice is practically a coo behind me as he slithers forward, cradling his injured tentacle against his massive chest. “Isn’t this exciting?”
I spin wildly towards him, sneering to disguise the fear racing beneath my skin.
“The Devourer will kill you if you lay a hand on me,” I warn breathlessly. I know that the Terrors have a lot of power over the other tongues, and I pray that his fear of the beastly monster will be enough to stop him.
But like before, that deranged grin of his only widens, revealing sharper-than-normal teeth.
“Hmm.” He licks his lips salaciously, and I can’t help but notice that like Creep, his tongue is forked.
But unlike Creep, this monster’s tongue is an off-putting shade of yellow.
Disgusting. “Fortunately for all of us, he won’t know it’s me.
He might not even realize you’re dead in the first place.
” He takes a step forward, and I counter it with one backwards.
Fear, anger, and violence swirl around in my stomach like a whirlpool.
“I’m very, very good at hiding bodies.” As if to punctuate his point, he opens his mouth wide…
so wide, that his lower jaw drops all the way to the floor and I have an unrestricted view of that dancing yellow tongue.
It wavers like a pennant in the dark abyss of his mouth.
He then snaps his lips closed and swallows heavily—leaving no doubt in my mind what he means by that ominous gesture.
He’s going to…
Eat me.
Fucking eat me.
My fear momentarily drains away, replaced by something white-hot and fiery. Anger, perhaps, though it’s more potent than anything I’ve felt before.
I did not survive the night visions, a fucking auction, the Devourer, an honest-to-fuck ghost, a monster party, and then sex with Creep to be taken down by this asshole. No way. I refuse.
I reach into my pocket and curls my fingers around the screwdriver, knowing I’m out of options.
This time when I stab him, I’ll need to make it count.
“There are a lot of holes in your plan. Flaws.” I attempt to keep my voice nonchalant, devoid of any negative emotion, and his chapped lips purse.
“What do you mean?”
Apparently, he doesn’t like hearing that his super evil master plan isn’t perfect.
“The Devourer knows where I am,” I lie. “He allowed me to have some fresh air. I wouldn’t be surprised if he storms through that door right this second.” I stare pointedly over his shoulder, and he immediately turns to follow the direction of my gaze.
Though his profile’s to me, I can see his single eye widen. Just as quickly, it narrows, the skin around it creasing.
“Don’t fuck with me, little girl.” His tentacles undulate, bringing him closer.
“The Devourer is…taking care of business. Attacks on the edge of his territory.” He shrugs his bony shoulders negligently and continues advancing.
“He won’t know you’re gone for…hours, perhaps?
Days? I heard that you guys haven’t been getting along, so I doubt he’ll check in on you. ”
How the fuck would he know that? Doesn’t matter. Time to act. My eyes widen suddenly, and I lift a trembling finger, pointing it over his shoulder.
“Dev,” I breathe in relief, and once again, the monster’s head snaps backwards, twisting towards the empty hallway.
I strike.
Fear, panic, anxiety, anger… They all merge together to forge a new emotion, one I’m not entirely familiar with. One that’s caustic and bitter, uncomfortable and soul-crushing.
I don’t release a battle cry or anything like that. I simply jump forward, the hand holding the screwdriver raised as I prepare to end this…no matter the cost.
Even if that cost is my life.
He spins around just as I swing my hand and embed the screwdriver in his single eye.
* * *
I bolt upright in bed, my chest constricting and my heart racing.
Just a dream, I tell myself, swatting at my sweaty hair. Just a dream. A nightmare.
My eyelids squeeze shut as I force myself to lie back down and snuggle beneath the covers once more…the soft, silky covers, not the rough tapestry I’ve grown accustomed to.
What the fuck?
I jump out of bed with an almost blistering speed as memories return to me.
The fight with that tongue.
His death.
And then…
The appearance of that strange, masked monster.
What the fuck?
“Where am I?” I say, desperately twisting my head to see everything in my immediate vicinity.
It appears to be a small, dingy room, though I can tell from first glance that this diminutive room is someone’s entire house.
I was lying on a tattered couch, a few blankets now tangled together on the bright red rug.
To my right is a makeshift kitchen with a tiny, rickety table beside it.
A single door is to my left, and with it currently propped open, I can see a bathroom inside of it.
Every spare inch of the tiny home is cluttered with trinkets. Music boxes rest on free-hanging shelves, baseball gloves are on the coffee table directly in front of me, and tiny bobbleheads sit on the kitchen counter.
The color scheme seems to follow this ridiculous pattern of having no pattern.
The bright red rug clashes with the multicolored blue and green carpeting.
The couch is a god-awful shade of orange, while the kitchen cabinets are bright white.
The table, on the other hand, is black, though the chairs surrounding it are a combination of armchairs, plastic chairs, and wooden ones.