Chapter Three
………………………….
Ily
COULD A PERSON KEEP LIVING IF their heart stopped beating?
Because mine did.
The moment we entered the Temple of Facets...
It stopped.
Just like that.
Salty tang and chilly rock entombed us as we traded the sea glass-pebbled beach and stumbled into the cave system. No one spoke as Peter collided from stone wall to stone wall, guiding us deeper into the island’s belly.
The first circular space looked like any other cave. Scraggy and sharp, wild and wet where no humans were welcome. Enough light spilled from outside to etch every step with shadow. The second was larger, with massive stalactites descending from the roof—some so long we had to weave around them as we followed our feverish tour guide. We travelled through a narrow rock corridor, light fading with every metre, forcing us to rely more on touch than sight.
But the moment we exited that narrow alleyway—decorated by nature and its mercurial tides full of seaweed and broken bits of coral—and spilled into a cavernous catacomb…my heart ceased beating.
Flickering sconces in the shape of burning torches granted us soft, dreamy light, trying to hide the nightmare before us.
My knees buckled.
My stomach threatened to revolt.
All around me, jewels reacted in their own way.
All skin colours turned shock-white.
All eye colours went horror-wide.
No one could wrench their gaze off the table in the centre.
No, not a table.
An altar.
Carved from the very cave itself with a thick pedestal and chunky stone platform.
A human-sized platform.
Shaped like a flat coffin, grooves cut into its edges, ready to capture liquid and funnel it to the end where a glass cauldron swung, greedy and grasping for every drop.
An ancient ache worked through me.
Time seemed to overlap.
My mind filled with similar scenes. Historical sacrifices, pages from books I’d read, and scenes depicted in the old castles and manors I’d explored.
In every era of humanity, evil had presided.
Today was no different.
And standing in that oppressive cave with stone pews circling the sacrificial altar and torches adding a patina of misery, I struggled to believe in innocence. Struggled to hold faith in hope.
Even Mother Nature seemed in on this hellscape with stalactites dripping like fangs and mineral-deposited stalagmites spearing like demon fingers.
I’d never felt so small or so stupid.
Historic brutality couldn’t compare to the energy pouring off my fellow jewels.
The indescribable shattering of thirty broken hearts as we all came to terms with our fate if we didn’t find a way free.
One day, each of us would be buckled and bled on that altar.
One day, every single one of us would cease to exist.
For an age, no one breathed.
But then…a gasp.
A cry.
A stumble.
The spell broke, and the jewels all reeled back as one. Bumping into one another, choking on wails, scrambling for strength, and finding they had nothing left.
“Don’t…” I whispered, gagging on my own dead heart. “Don’t….”
I wanted to tell them not to give up hope.
Not to envision what’d happened in here or to picture themselves on that table.
“Stay,” Peter ordered as he clung to a stalagmite, doing his best to remain standing. “Forget what you see. Ignore it. We’ll travel deeper into the cave system where they will never find us, and then we’ll—”
“We’ll be caught!” Nancy screamed, her bright red hair looking like flames in the gloom. “We’ll be caught like always and hurt and raped and…and—” Slashing at her wet cheeks, she trembled. “We’ll end up on that.” She pointed at the altar. “No matter what we do. No matter how well we behave. No matter how long we serve. We’ll all end up on that. Oh God—” Hugging herself, she backed up. “Zach and Seline…Paula and Thandi—”
“Don’t do that,” Peter commanded weakly. “They’re dead. They’re free—”
“And they died right here.” Nancy sobbed with no sound, shook with no rattling. “No. I can’t. No more. I-I can’t do this.” Pushing past the other jewels blocking her exit and darting around the dripping stalagmites, she snarled at Peter as he snatched her wrist.
“Let go of me, Pete! I’m leaving. Right now. I can’t stay in here. I can’t stay here period. I’m swimming. I don’t fucking care—”
“You swim, you die.” Peter groaned, swaying on the spot as Nancy ripped her arm back.
“I’ve heard drowning is an okay way to go.” Rebecca, the blonde with small breasts and weary eyes, drifted to Nancy’s side. She looked at all of us before linking fingers with Nancy’s. “Nancy and I are going to try. If anyone else wants to come—”
“I will.” Dane stepped forward. “I reached my limit the first time that Charles bastard made me cook a strip of my skin for his appetiser.”
“Me too,” Suri whispered. “I can’t stomach Branson and Azhar sharing me again.”
“Fuck, if you’re going, I’m going too.” Kirk wrapped his arm around Suri’s slim shoulders.
“You don’t even know if there’s land close by.” Peter winced, doing his best to stay standing. Any sign of his drug-addled state was gone. “Please, guys. Don’t do this. I know you’ve all been hurt. I know you’re at your wits end. I know death seems like a vacation at this point but…just trust me. We need to stick together. If we do, we can—”
“I’m sorry.” Kirk shrugged. “This might be the only time we’re allowed out without our collars electrifying us into soup. If we don’t try now…we might never get another chance.” Stepping forward, bringing Suri with him, Kirk clutched Peter around the nape and squeezed. “Be safe, brother.”
Letting Peter go, Kirk glanced at the jewels who’d stepped forward to join him and nodded. “Let’s go.”
They left before any of us could stop them.
The emptiness of their sudden departure made the Temple of Facets all the more oppressive, as if the cave sucked their souls into its ghostly collection.
With a guttural groan, Peter buckled to the ground.
Rachel and I dashed toward him just as another group of jewels banded together and headed toward a black crack to the right. Shooting Peter a look, a brown-haired girl who I thought was called Harper said softly, “We don’t want to swim, but I agree with Kirk. This is our one shot to find a way off this island.”
“There is no way!” Peter shouted. “Not unless we stick together and take them down.”
Harper gave him a sad smile. “You’re talking about war. But all I’m hearing is suicide.”
“Harper’s right,” a curvy Asian girl muttered. “It’s too risky to stick together, and it’s far too risky to think we can fight back. We’ll spread out in the caves. We’ll stand a better chance at hiding in small groups. When it’s dark, we’ll make a raft or something and get the hell away from this place.”
Peter shook his head with a cold laugh. “A raft? Now who’s deluded?”
Harper and her friend didn’t reply.
They just waved and stepped into the crack.
Peter blanched. “No, wait!”
Too late.
More jewels vanished after them, slipping through the stone and swallowed by cave-black darkness.
“Shit!” Peter pushed me away, trying to stand just as a third group of jewels headed toward the left and another crevice partially hidden by a stalagmite and dancing with fake firelight from the torches.
“Don’t even think about it,” he snarled. “There’s no way out that way.” He held up a bleeding, charred hand. “There’s a blowhole that erupts at high tide. You’ll drown—”
“You might’ve been in here before, Peter.” A dark-skinned girl sniffed. “But you can’t know every crag.”
“We’ll go find our Masters,” the strawberry-blonde girl who’d asked if Victor would forgive them before we’d been told to run, said softly. “If we willingly go to them, then they’ll be lenient, and we can forget about this.” Glancing at the small group, she braced her shoulders. “Ready?”
“Ready.” The dark-skinned girl nodded.
I stepped toward them. “Please, don’t. Listen to Peter—”
They vanished too.
And just like that…our thirty somehow became nine.
My knees locked as I smiled at a few familiar faces.
Peter, Rachel, Citra, Mollie, Sonya, myself, a Chinese guy missing two fingers, and two other girls who avoided eye contact.
“Help me up, Rach.” Peter did his best to clamber to his oozing, charcoal feet.
With a heavy sigh, she did as he requested, wincing with her own pain.
I went to them and took my share of Peter’s weight.
Rachel gave me a soft smile and nodded.
I nodded back.
Somehow, a fierce friendship had sprung between us. We’d barely spoken, yet our bond felt stronger than any of my old high-school girlfriends. I supposed a common goal and utmost determination not to let this island and its monsters beat us forged feelings that went above mere like and straight to sisterhood.
Breaking our stare, Rachel pushed Peter’s damp hair off his forehead. “Okay, Pete. We’re all yours. Where are we going?”
He blinked at her touch, then swooned as if she’d robbed the last dregs of his energy. His chin flopped onto his chest; his knees buckled again.
“Ah, crap.” Rachel and I clung to him, stopping him from collapsing. “Let’s put him down for a bit,” Rachel said. “I’ll see if I can find some water and cloth. If we wrap his hands and feet, he might be able to—”
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Peter slurred and stood on shaky legs. “We need to hurry. We’ve spent too much time in here already.” Arching his chin at the closest pew, he muttered, “Set me there and then raid that chest.” He pointed at a weathered-wooden chest with brass fixings. It was large enough to hide a folded-up body, and I honestly didn’t have the stomach to see what was inside.
Peter gave me an understanding grimace. “It’s full of tools. Vials. Siphons. Goblets…that kinda thing. Victor doesn’t keep the Blade of Beauty down here, but he does keep other knives.”
“You planning on stabbing a Master now?” Rachel rolled her eyes as we both stumbled with Peter between us. We deposited him on the pew he’d requested.
My spine protested as we set him down and backed up.
“If it comes down to it. Yes.” Peter nodded and placed his ruined hands upright on his lap. “Now, hurry. Take whatever weapon you find. I want to be out of here in sixty seconds.”
“Gotcha.” The Chinese guy strode forward and reached for the chest.
I expected it to be locked.
It wasn’t.
Flipping it up, he stumbled back and raked a hand through glossy black hair. “Man, this just keeps getting worse.”
Peter stood and hobbled toward him. He didn’t get far before he fell face first against the altar and clung to it. The image of him touching that rust-stained stone threatened to make me sick.
“Ignore the canopic jars, Caishen,” Peter muttered.
“The what jars?” Rachel spun around from where she rummaged through open shelving where black-wax candles and huge gemstones glittered.
If those gems were real, the size of the sapphire alone would be enough to buy a house in expensive London suburbs.
Needing to do something, I headed toward the large intricately carved cupboard to the left. The design looked like entwined souls imploring the heavens to save them, all while shadowy things tried to pull them down.
“The Egyptians used to use them,” Peter groaned. “To hold organs in the mummification process.”
Caishen ripped his hands away. “Cào nǐ mā.”
Peter actually chuckled, as if anything was amusing at this point. “I had a friend from Canton. Doesn’t that mean ‘fuck my mother’?”
Caishen shot him a smirk. “Not your mother, obviously. His mother. Fucking Vile Vic’s.”
“Ah. Well yes, she’s partly to blame for birthing him.” Peter pressed his forehead against the altar. He breathed heavily; all signs of mirth gone. “I promise there’s nothing inside the jars anymore. Just grab the knives and—”
“Was there something in them before?” Rachel asked. “Are you telling me they cut out our organs as well as drink our blood, Pete?”
Peter didn’t reply.
Instead, his gaze shot to me as I yanked open the cupboard. “Ily, don’t—!”
Too late.
Oh God, what—
I tripped backward, rolled my ankle against a small stalagmite, and fell painfully on my ass.
Oh God.
Oh God.
Oh God!
Just like my heart stopped beating, my soul threatened to fly free and abandon me.
“Close it!” Peter snarled with energy I hadn’t heard in a while. “Close the fucking doors, Ilyana!”
Scrambling to my feet, I couldn’t tear my gaze off empty sockets where eyes used to be.
Skulls.
So many, many skulls.
All stacked neatly side by side, bleached white and dust-free, rows upon rows upon—
The doors slammed closed. Caishen stood with his back to it. “Time to run, don’t you agree?”
I tried to swallow.
To nod.
The cave spun.
My lungs burned.
Peter broke my rising panic attack—or added to it—by whispering, “Now you know why I was so adamant about finding that Diamond Kiss chit.” Hobbling toward me, he tucked me under his sick-sweaty wing. “At least none of the Masters have come forward with it. If any of them had found it, they would’ve said something by now.” Kissing my temple, he breathed, “It’s okay, jaanu. We’ll get them out. You convinced me to try. Don’t give up on us now.”
Spinning in his hold, I flung my arms around his slim waist, not caring I smeared his streaky bullseye all over my own. “How the hell have you survived this long, Paavak? It’s bad enough being a jewel and putting up with the nightmares in that castle. But this?” Pulling away, I studied his tortured black stare. “Watching this? Seeing what they do? Cleaning up what they’ve done?” I couldn’t hold back the tears. “Please, please tell me you don’t have to…they don’t make you—”
“Cut the heads off?” He winced. “No. I just have to gather the parts, toss away the bits he doesn’t want, and preserve the pieces he does. Acid does most of the work.”
And that was my limit.
Breaking out of his embrace, I vomited.
A pitiful little pile of dismay and disgrace as the reality of Peter’s life slapped me stupid.
Five years.
Five years, he’d not only endured but done things that would forever haunt him.
How wasn’t he catatonic?
How was he still sane?
Peter went to hold back my hair but cursed under his breath as his bleeding hands stuck to my strands. “We’ve got to go, Ily. I don’t mean to belittle your reaction, but…save the throwing up till tomorrow, okay?”
Caishen planted a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I’ve always respected you, even if you pissed me off for being such a stickler for the rules. I’m sorry for every mean thought I ever had that you got preferential treatment for being our little leader.”
“Respect me by getting her moving.” Sucking down his agony, Peter looked at the other jewels scattered in varying degrees of dread. “None of us will end up in that cupboard. I promise you. I meant what I said. I’ll kill you myself before I let anyone else be brought into this temple. But right now, forget everything you saw and follow me. As fast as you can. It’s dark the deeper we go, but use your hands, and you’ll get by.”
Shuffling behind the small podium—another rock that’d been chipped and chiselled to make a platform—he beckoned us to hurry. “Fuck the weapons. We’ve run out of time. Let’s go.”
Vanishing behind a thick outcropping of stalagmites, he limped into the darkness.
Rachel bounced on the spot, urgency flooding her. “We’ve got to go.” Waving at the other girls, she ordered, “Come on. Move. Quickly.”
Citra led the pack, following Peter through the secret passage.
Caishen gave me a worried look. “I don’t know about him, but I’d feel better if I had a knife.”
“Me too.” I flew toward the chest.
Together, we flung out canopic jars and tossed away heavy black velvet robes. Almost in sync, I found a few battery-fed torches, and he found a single knife with a nicked blade as if it’d been used against stone.
“Let’s go.” Holding out his hand, Caishen gave me a kind smile as I threaded my fingers with his.
We didn’t say a word as he pulled me through stone into hell.