Chapter 19 Melody
Melody
Atall, pale man stares at me with mild disgust. He must be the big, important guy Ella was talking about.
I glare back, clenching my fists at my sides.
Ella looks like she's barely containing her rage.
Good. Fuck her. Fuck this pale, blond man.
Fuck this whole place. The back of my skull vibrates with the overwhelming urge to fucking kill her.
Not even the nausea in my gut can dissuade me.
"So, this is the wife?" The man sniffs.
"She's more than that." Ella rifles through her pockets and pulls out a key ring. I watch her unlock my cell door as I try to keep my breathing slow and calm. "I told you to reserve your judgment."
"That you did, though I'm not sure why. Is one filthy woman supposed to change my mind?"
Filthy? I'll show him filthy. I'll show him rage and murder incarnate. I'll rip the sleek blond hair from his scalp. I'll gut him like a fish and feed him his entrails.
"It's what she can do. It's what she lives for." Ella smirks and throws the door open before turning to Hannah. "Would you mind retrieving her toy?"
Hannah's eyebrows shoot to her hairline. "You're really gonna do this?"
"No." Ella snaps her head toward me. "She is."
Well, if that isn't ominous as fuck. But Ella's playing a dangerous game, letting me out.
I don't need a knife. I don't need a weapon.
I am a weapon. And she's loading more bullets in my chamber with every slimy word.
If she really thinks I'll just rip apart whatever man they throw in front of me—after what happened with Forge?
Nah. No way. I might be a crazy bitch, but I can keep a hold of myself. I can pretend to play her game.
She doesn't know what the fuck she's messing with.
I glare at her as she cautiously approaches, pulling a pair of handcuffs from her pocket. Before I can react, she snatches my arm and shoves me against the wall, twisting my wrist behind my back. I feel the cold metal immobilizing my arms, and I suck in a breath.
"What are you doing, Ella?" I whisper.
"You'll see, Melly-bean. Just be a good girl and put on a show for the Nephilim, hmm?"
Oh, I really don't like that. I scowl and glare, baring my teeth like an animal as she frog-marches me out of the cell.
The Nephilim gives me another bored once-over.
Ella's grip tightens around my arm. This guy makes her nervous, which feels…
dangerous. She's a horrendous bitch in the best of times, but when she's mad… yikes.
My pulse spikes as the three of us walk down a dingy hallway.
Ella briefly releases her grip when we reach a metal door, and I stumble back, hip-checking the pale man.
He scoffs and steps back, brushing at his white suit.
A malicious giggle bubbles out of me when I see the smudge I left on his side.
"My deepest apologies, Nephilim." Ella inclines her head slightly. "Please, follow me. I'll show you to your seat."
She shoves open the metal door with a creak, and all the air leaves my lungs.
We're outside. I'm outside. I can see the sky—I laugh and shuffle on my feet, looking up at the cloudy night sky above.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, and I can smell the rain coming.
A gentle breeze picks up and rustles in the leaves.
God, the leaves! Lush, tropical plants grow wild in (what I'm assuming is) the prison yard.
I kick off my shoes, just to feel the earth beneath my feet.
Soft, damp dirt squishes between my toes.
I feel a few small pebbles, too, and I don't care.
They don't hurt. This is real. I'm outside.
I'm fucking outside. Dropping to my knees, I feel a hot tear trail down my cheek.
I'm real. I exist. I exist in the world, and the frogs croaking sounds more heavenly than any music I've ever heard.
A thick ball of emotion sticks in my throat.
Ella leans down, and her heavy veil of red hair obscures her face. She whispers something to me, but I can't tell what she said. I don't care. She's probably mocking me. All I care about is the scent of mud and the soft blades of grass beneath my knees.
A sharp sting to my bicep interrupts my joyous reverie. I hiss and glare at Ella, who pockets what looks like a syringe. She smirks, then looks back over to the Nephilim.
"In a few moments, Hannah will bring out Melody's little toy. I think you'll enjoy what you see."
The pale man flattens his lips and gives her a terse nod.
He strolls over to a concrete bench, brushing away dirt and fallen leaves before daintily lowering himself to sit.
I watch him warily, not entirely sure what's supposed to happen.
Anxiety spikes, and my heart rate increases to match.
I can feel my blood rush through my veins. I can hear my pulse.
I have to get out. I have to run. Staggering to my feet, I fall forward again—these fucking handcuffs! I wriggle my legs through the gap in my arms, writhing on the ground. If I can just get my hands in front of me, I can run. I can fight.
"Ah, ah!" Ella snaps. "None of that!"
"What the fuck do you want from me?" I shriek, still rolling around, trying to work my arms under my legs. "What do you want?"
"Patience, Melly-bean. Just a few more minutes. Then you can play, okay?"
Play? Play? What the fuck is she talking about?
My breaths come hard and fast as I try to work my arms around.
A twinge of pain sparks in my shoulder, but I don't care.
I have to get out. I have to fucking get out.
I can't take this. I can't take her. My panicked grunting echoes in my ears, and the ground seems to… melt?
What?
Every ache and pain in my body dissipates.
I roll my shoulder, expecting another stab, but…
it feels fine? Everything feels fine. In fact, I've never felt better.
I feel fucking invincible. With a pop, my arms fly out from under me, and I can sit up.
The cuffs are still binding my wrists, but it doesn't seem to matter.
Throwing my head back, I stare up at the night sky. The pinprick stars glimmer, as if they're talking to me. They are talking to me. You're amazing, Melody! You can do this! You can do anything!
"I can do anything," I mumble. Bringing my gaze back down to earth, the trees breathe.
They inhale and exhale at a calming rate.
I watch the leaves flutter in the breeze, coaxing me to dance with them.
Before I know it, I'm on my feet. I'm swaying with the trees.
They laugh with me—the world laughs with me.
God, if only Dante were here. I want to dance with him. I want to make love with him.
You'll see him soon, the trees whisper. I will?
Tearing my gaze from the swaying trees, I break out in a massive smile.
Hannah leads a cuffed Dante into the yard.
God, my heart swells in my chest. His hair has grown out, and his beard is delightfully scruffy.
I can practically feel the coarse stubble under my palms.
Bounding over to him, I call his name—but my voice sounds strange.
It sounds distorted and far away. Come to think of it, everything sounds distant.
It's almost like I'm listening to a speaker with a half-second delay, with the volume turned way down.
When I'm a few feet away, I stumble on a rock and go crashing to the ground.
"Melody!" Dante yells. I giggle. He sounds weird, too.
"I'm okay. Aren't you? Isn't everything?" I roll over to my back and laugh with the twinkling stars.
"What the fuck did you do to her?" Dante snarls. Ella laughs, and I cackle.
"This is all very entertaining," the Nephilim interrupts. "But how is this supposed to impress me?"
"Just watch," Ella assures him.
I hear her footsteps clomp over, and I crane my neck to look up at her looming figure.
Her gleeful grin strikes fear deep in my bones.
Why? What? No, everything was great—why is she so scary?
Her bright red hair shines under the moonlight, and her teeth morph into long, sharp fangs.
Gasping, I try to scoot away, but my hands are still bound. Fuck!
Panic coils around my gut, squeezing the breath from my lungs.
No. No. No. I watch in horror as I wriggle on the ground—Ella raises a long metal rod with…
something buzzing on the tip. She presses it to my thigh, and an electric shock arcs through my body.
My vision blanks out, and every cell of my being screams.
As quickly as it came, the pain disappears.
I gasp in a whimpering breath, and with it comes a sizzling rage.
Grinding my teeth, I squint open my eyes and fix a glare at Ella.
I can see her pulse feather in her neck.
I want to rip her open. I want to bathe in her blood. I want to stomp her skull in.
"No, no." She kneels down and strokes my forehead. "Not me. Him."
I watch as she points to the scruffy man in handcuffs.
Cocking my head to the side, I study him.
He looks familiar. He blows the jet black strands of hair away from his eyes.
Oh, his beautiful green eyes. They're so comforting.
They're so loving. I can't hurt him—can I?
No, I can't. I love him. I don't know how, but I love him.
But just behind him, there's a haughty pale man sitting on a bench. I curl back my lips and bare my teeth at the man in white. He stares at me with disinterest and disgust. Oh, yes. Him.
The pressure around my wrists disappears. I look down to find the handcuffs gone and up to see Ella clipping them around her belt loop. Shakily, I push myself upright and flex my hands. It feels so good. But my hands twitch; they want to attack. They want to shred. And who am I to deny them?
Especially when the man in white crosses his arms and studies me like an insect. Oh, yeah. It's time to fuckin' go.
I shove Ella away, all of my focus on him.
I race toward him, and before he can react, I tackle him from his seat.
The back of his head hits the dirt with a thud.
Someone shouts "No!" but I don't give a fuck.
Laughter rips from my lungs, and I squeeze my thighs around him.
God, it feels fucking incredible. It's like something has overtaken my body, but I know it hasn't—it's me.
It's all me. I am the goddess of pain. I am the goddess of war.
And I am going to sacrifice this man at my altar.
I clamp my hands around his throat and squeeze.
He claws at my hands and arms, but I barely feel it.
All I can feel is the warm pressure between my legs.
I can feel the tiny trickle of air entering his windpipe.
That won't do. That simply won't do. I switch from my hand to my forearm, leaning down with all of my weight.
The gurgles and gasps he makes as his eyes widen are divine.
Someone grabs my shoulders, but I shrug them off.
I think someone's telling me "No, no, no," but I don't pay any attention whatsoever.
My singular focus is to choke the life from the pale man.
His face turns red, but his lips turn blue.
Spit flies from his mouth as he screams (or tries to).
He flails wildly under my weight. In this moment, I wish I were heavier.
The bare minimum of food Ella's given us is not enough.
I want to crush him. I want to stomp him into a fine paste.
Letting out a feral scream, I bear down with all of my strength.
I relish in the crackling of his throat.
Blood vessels pop in his eyes as he stares into my face.
He doesn't have that look of superiority anymore—he only has fear.
Fear of the unknown and fear of his death. I bark out a laugh.
"You're gonna die," I sing. "You're gonna die, Nephilim. How does it feel? Is it scary? Does it hurt?"
"Keep going, Melody!" My husband's voice fills my mind. "Keep going, love! You're amazing! You can do it!"
I can do it. Whatever Ella injected me with seems to have given me an extra spurt of strength.
I don't know how long it's been, but the pale man finally stops fighting.
His eyes lose their focus. His hands drop to the dirt.
I can't feel his pulse in his throat anymore.
Ever so carefully, I remove myself and stand.
Inspecting his face, a crease forms between my brows. I study the globs of saliva that gather at the corners of his mouth. I reach out and touch his paper white skin. It's warm—and he fucking twitches. Flinching, I realize he's still alive. No. Not good.
I rear back my foot and kick his temple with all of my strength. The impact reverberates up my leg, and I feel connected. I am connected to this dying man. It's my duty and my right to take him out. His head lolls to the side. What was it I wanted to do?
Oh, right. Stomp. And god, does it feel fucking amazing. The bottom of my foot connects with his face, and I feel the delicious crunch of bone. His warm blood coats my skin. It's practically electric. The sticky heat sends a jolt of joy up my spine. I'm going to return him to the earth.
I don't know when I started screaming, but my voice feels ragged and rough. I swear to god, the stars egg me on. I shriek and scream and wail into the nighttime air as I pummel the pale man's head into the ground. A shard of bone slices into the sole of my foot, and I wince.
"He's dead, love, he's dead!" Dante yells. "You killed the Nephilim!"
Panting, I turn and survey the yard. Dante struggles against Hannah's hold—is she that strong?—and Ella… Ella doesn't look upset. She isn't grieving. No, she smiles ferociously and claps.
"The Nephilim is dead. And now? I will replace him."
Oh, shit.