4. -
CHAPTER FOUR
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Standing before Talon and my prey, I contemplate the perfect discipline. I could feed her to Sasha, our coven pet. She's a feral werewolf we took from our enemy's coven, Asfrontus. They also hide underground to escape the Elite hunts, but they are constantly in our territory.
They've stolen people from us, children, and our supplies.
So we took Sasha.
Sasha has an insatiable appetite for human meat. I'd love to see her tear Sera apart.
However, that seems like a waste of power potential….
That's it!
She's a warrior for the Drakkonians. Her magic is strong. What if we used her as a sacrifice to J?rmungandr? Maybe then, the ritual will succeed.
I think that's the ticket.
Sera, upon noticing my wheels turning in my head, picks up a brisk pace to leave.
Talon keeps his burly stature in her way, using his chest to bump her back into the room.
“Where do you think you're going?” Talon jeers as her body smacks into his.
“We haven't gotten started yet.” He reaches his hand out and secures her by the throat, causing her eyes to bulge.
Next, his head turns in my direction, motioning for me to go.
“Bring Deemer and Bexlee here. Let's get this party started.”
I nod and skip happily out of the room.
Preferably, finding them without getting lost.
I ought to carry a map.
After catching Deemer and Bexlee up to speed on Banity’s bullshit, we crowd around a rope-bound Sera on the ritual table.
Thick, burlap binds swallow her from her shoulders to her feet, silencing any and all movement.
Woven into each thread of rope rests Deathhead flowers, meant to symbolize her burial and her gifting herself to the coven, for the greater good.
The soft pink petals caress her skin, offering a moment of beauty in the horror.
With a ballgag shoved into Sera's mouth, tears silently fall down her flush cheeks.
Not so big and bad now, huh?
A few feet away, Ven is entombed in a heatless whip of burning fire, courtesy of Bexlee's pointer finger. The moment he breathes too heavily or shifts too hard, the fire will lick his skin.
Simply a precautionary measure.
He shifts on his feet, glancing between all of us. “Come on, you can't seriously allow a fight to be a reason for a sacrifice. That's insane!”
“Shut it,” Deemer barks, “she disobeyed, and broke Cerys's arm and nose. We follow orders here, especially those below us in rank. A warrior for Banity doesn't mean you disobey orders.”
A sly grin spreads across my face at the groveling. His eyes are wide in disbelief, like he wasn't aware where we are and what happens here.
We serve J?rmungandr. His spirit protects us, and one day when he returns, those who served him well will have a special slot next to his throne as we become the only species walking Earth.
“Cerys,” Ven sputters, hardly able to get the words out, “you can punish me instead. You can choose something different. You have to-”
Whipping around, I spit at him in a hiss, exactly like a cat. My spittle flies across the room as my mouth contorts to expedite the hiss.
Then I turn back around.
Moving around the table, I ensure the galvanized buckets are securely in place beside the table. I don't feel like cleaning up a huge mess later. Deemer would force me into a maid outfit and get on my hands and knees to scrub.
Talon would love that, wouldn't he?
Deemer meets me at my side and passes me a pointy dagger with a dragon egg crystal buried into the hilt. “All yours, Cerys.”
My tiny wings flap twice from excitement.
Stitches will have a new friend to play with very soon.
Goosebumps prickle my skin as Talon wraps his arms around my waist, giving my neck a nibble. His chin rests on my shoulder. “I just wanted to watch you perform your first sacrifice for Banity,” he coos in my ear.
I give him an effortlessly bright smile. He always knows how to shower me with unbridled joy.
Turning back to my sacrifice, I position the point of the knife right above the carotid artery, just below the lump in the throat.
This is going to be messy.
Holding my stance above Sera, I close my eyes, preparing to give thanks to our fallen god, J?rmungandr.
“Let us gather in worship. Let us give this lamb as thanks, and let him bless us with fertility and prosperity. May he find her as a worthy offering for Lupercalia!” The stone slab table rocks back and forth. Wind picks up around us as Deemer, Bexlee, and Talon chant unintelligible words.
Sera's head violently shakes back and forth as her muffled screams hit the ballgag. The rest of her wiggles in unison, as if that would release her from her binds.
The dagger plunges downward. Sera screams are impossible to ignore, even behind the gag, but they quickly switch to choking gasps.
Blood squirts upwards with geyser strength, coating everything in its wake.
The blade, on the hilt, the table, and the ceiling.
It explodes upward like a fire hydrant. Droplets plops from the ceiling onto my head and shoulders.
As the blade slips from my hand, I add my other one to steady my grip, reclaiming the power.
Her blood is so warm. Its dark, reflective appearance glistens as Sera's heartbeat sends more of it pulsing out of her, leaking down her chest and to the floor.
The smell of ammonia mixes with the sharp metallic, turning my nose off.
I throw my head back in a laugh. She pissed herself!
Her body convulses as she gags, or chokes, rather.
I raise my arm again.
Slice.
My knife pierces the same area. Her eyes roll back into her head, muscles locking up completely while she spasms on the table. She chokes and sputters in time with the wound.
Crunch.
I did it again.
Crunch.
And again.
Over and over, I bring the blade down in a hacking motion.
Over and over, slowly deleting the skin and tissue holding her head on her body.
At this point, Sera is no longer moving. Her eyes are white, mouth hanging open, body jerking from the force of the blade.
The longer I hack, the more of her neck muscles tear away from her body.
I hack until her head is holding on by a few pieces of flesh and tendons. Giving the skin a final wack, the head snaps off of her body, tumbling into the bucket beneath her.
The wind and chaos silenced immediately.
Talon releases me, moving across the room. His fascination with me only grew as he watched.
Ven unleashes a guttural yell from deep within his chest, hollering until it fades into long wails that repeat like a record.
Lifting my bloody hand, I wave him off, and Bexlee removes him.
Blood that managed to escape the buckets pours from the slab, flowing like a river into the drain hole in the center of the room.
Deemer will process and break down the body. We may be able to use her bones as fertilizer for our crops.
Gathering the head, I take it to the other side of the room where the work bench is. Saw blades, scalpels, industrial scissors, and screwdrivers line the wall.
Tools to process and break down bodies.
Sera's skin has faded into a sick gray, with blackened, sunken eyes. Her mouth remains unhinged with specks of her pearly white teeth peering from just below her upper lip.
Carefully using a precision scalpel, I run the tip of it along her scalp, cutting into her with ease. My hands shake from the unsteadyness, my grip still slipping from blood. I spin her head like a can opener as I work, stopping when the scalp comes undone with a heavy click of bone against bone.
I remove her gory top, placing it beside her.
Now, time to pop out her eyes.
Mounted on the wall, a giant serving spoon hangs with a wicked prong on the opposite end. Perfect for plucking out eyes.
Placing the prong inside the eye socket, I carefully wedge it around the socket, feeling the release of the optic nerves and muscles around it.
The eye protrudes as I slip the spoon inside of her eye, scooping it out with a plop.
I do the same for the other one.
I place her eyes in a glass jar on the counter. I will let Deemer know to put any parts I am allowed to use in it.
Talon comes up behind me but doesn't touch me, likely because I am covered in life juice. “A death angel soaked in blood. What more could a man want?” He leans down and seals our lips, smearing us both in Sera's blood. He breaks away and smiles through the smudges and drips of brown blood.
I glance down at myself. My ripped shirt is drenched. My arms and legs are splashed. I can only imagine how much ended up on my face.
My cheeks flush, slightly embarrassed that he is seeing me in a less than perfect form.
Before hand feeding Sasha, it's best to fix myself up to Talon's standards of cleanliness. It is Lupercalia, after all.
Tonight is the night. I feel it in my bones - the ritual will succeed.