Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“Please.” I wriggled in his hold. “It hurts. I can’t stand it. L-Let me go.”
He sucked in a tattered breath. “Ily, don’t.” Fear sobered him just enough to hiss, “Don’t fight me. You know what will happen if you fight me.”
“What will happen if she fights you?” Victor drawled far, far too close.
The room shrank like a torture chamber, the ceiling sinking, the walls creeping, squeezing me, entombing me.
No.
It’s not real.
It’s not—
“Ily.” Henri stopped whispering and shook me hard instead. I rattled like knuckle bones cast by a sorcerer. I trembled like a puddle when the earth shook.
Every point of contact between us grew worse and worse.
A halo glowed around his head, switching from a divine light to a shadowy crown. His fingers caressed my shoulders, gentle and soft and painful.
So, so painful.
“Don’t,” I whimpered as acid soaked through me and scorpions stung me. “Don’t—”
Henri ignored me, gathering me closer. “I can’t do this alone.”
“Can’t do what?” Victor asked.
Cupping my cheeks, Henri tripped into me, the liquor he’d drunk well and truly corrupting him.
I couldn’t.
Too much.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts!
“Stop.” I kept my eyes squeezed tight against devil delusions and horrible hallucinations. “Stop touching me.”
“Please, Ily. It’s me—”
“Let me go.” My voice rose. “Let me go!”
“You know I can’t do that.” Tripping sideways, he looked at Peter. His tone switched from begging to bellowing. “What the fuck did you do to her?!”
Peter shrank away. He didn’t reply.
“Answer me!” Henri barked. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing is wrong with her.” Victor chuckled. “True fear can appear in a multitude of forms. She’s just catatonic, Henri. That’s all.”
“If that’s true, then snap out of it!” Henri tapped my cheek. “Come on.”
His fingers were daggers.
His chastisement vinegar and bleach on every open wound in my mind.
“I told you to let go of me!” I pushed him.
He swayed backward.
I dared make eye contact with him, and what stared back was a man stripped to his primal, feral core. “Ily...” His gaze welled with horror. “T-Tu as promis.” (Y-You promised.)
Promised.
I promised.
What did I promise?
“Strap her on the cross, Henri,” Victor commanded. “I’ve had enough of this. Give her something to truly fear.”
“Give me a minute—”
“No, you’ve had minutes. You’ve had fucking days. Time to bleed her, so I know you’re truly one of us.”
A tsunami of blood crashed over me. Metallic rust oozed down my throat. My skin sliced open, raining blood, rivering blood.
No—
It coated Henri’s hands.
His arms.
His body.
And his lips.
And when he smiled in my insanity, my mind reached the end of its limit.
Grabbing me again, Henri lifted me upright until my toes barely skimmed the carpet.
I completely lost myself.
“No,” I screamed.
“Leave me alone.” I kicked.
“It hurts. It hurts. It hurts!” I punched and fought and attacked.
Dropping me as if I’d shoved a sword in his belly, Henri ripped his hands away and stared in shocked, terrible silence. “Ily...”
I panted hard on all fours, swimming through mirages of monsters and sinister shades of sin.
For a split second, I remembered.
I blinked and was free.
Don’t fight him.
Whatever you do, don’t fight!
“Henri...” I crawled to him. “I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean to. I-I’m better now. I’m—” My throat closed up as darkness gathered around him, sucked from all corners of the crypt.
Smog wafted around his bare feet, creeping up his legs.
In the smog lurked snakes and pain, just waiting to snatch and hurt me.
I shuddered and closed my eyes.
Don’t look.
Focus.
You’re not alone.
We can get through this together...
Henri’s presence towered over me as he bent and cupped my elbows. Lifting me to my feet, he groan-slurred, “Come on. Let’s get thish over with.”
I tried to stay logical.
Tried to ignore the howls, clicks, and screams.
But as his fingers tightened around my wrist and he dragged me into his smog full of snapping, vicious teeth, I broke again.
“No!” I reeled backward, throwing myself out of his hold and landing in a heap on the floor. “Leave me alone!”
Peter reached for me. “Ily, it’s okay—”
“Don’t you dare fucking touch her!” Henri roared.
His snarl sounded like a dragon. The entire castle shook. Gargoyles chuckled. Lightning forked. My heart pounded and skipped, thundered and squeezed.
I couldn’t get a proper breath.
Couldn’t tell what was real and what was not.
Couldn’t remember why every part of my body begged me to submit to him when the only thing in my mind was run.
Swaying a little, Henri ducked over me again. A black-dripping angel ready to tear into my chest and claim my racing, rancid heart.
“Please,” I begged. “Don’t.”
“Goddammit, listen to me.” Wrapping his arm around my waist, he hauled me upright. “Ensemble, tu te rappelles? (Together, remember?) Please God, tell me you remember.”
I remembered nothing.
Felt everything.
Drowned beneath fear and failure.
“What little pacts have you been making with my jewel, Henri?” Victor asked carefully. “It seems you’ve been keeping secrets, even in the short time you’ve been here.”
“Merely a method of control, Vic.” Henri threw Victor a cocky grin. “That’s all.”
Betrayal sat like venom inside me.
Softly, seductively, Henri pulled me deeper into his arms.
The sensation of maliciousness masquerading as kindness was the worst thing I’d ever endured. Slimy and cold, oily and agonising.
I moaned as Henri gathered me closer.
I shivered as his lips pressed to my ear.
And I shut down as he whispered, “I need you, Ily. I need you to behave for me. To obey me.”
I snapped.