Chapter 21
ARIANNA
“My Rose.”
Sitting up quickly and clutching at my neck, as an unfamiliar feeling tightens in my body, almost suffocating me. Looking around the room, I could have sworn I heard Gaelan calling my name. I’ve not heard from him, and he’s meant to be here tomorrow. I tried to call him, but the line was cut off.
Oh god, I hope he hasn’t ghosted me.
Lying back down in bed, I look at the clock and see it’s only nine in the morning; I got to my aunt’s place late last night.
It was odd coming into her house without her being here.
I sat outside for a while just staring at it; the flowers at the front sagged where they hadn’t been watered, the curtains were all closed; it was as if the house was asleep, like it was waiting to be woken up, the wards were still in place, and they felt a little stronger somehow.
The front gate was broken; it was swinging on its hinges, and I wondered if someone had tried to force their way in. If they did, they didn’t get very far.
I walk into the dark hallway, and the house seemed to swell with happiness, as if it was missing some kind of light—it was, it was missing my aunt.
I didn’t do much searching last night. I unpacked and spent the time in the living room, sitting in my aunt’s favorite chair.
That chair went everywhere with her; it’s currently a pink and cream striped color, but it has been reupholstered so many times that I’ve forgotten what it initially looked like. It still smells like her.
Closing my eyes, I fight tears. I’m not meant to be crying; they wouldn’t want me to cry.
Pulling in a deep breath, I sit up. I hadn’t planned on leaving the house, so the only thing I packed was comfy clothes, underwear, and fluffy pajamas.
I pick out a pair of sweatpants and Gaelan’s hoodie; it still smells like him.
I bet he did that on purpose, the possessive man that he has shown me he is
I won’t call you, but here, have a constant reminder of me. Why do men have to be so frustrating?
The feelings that I refuse to acknowledge when I think about that man are strong, confusing, and overwhelming.
I pick up my phone, which I had put down in the kitchen, and put some hot water on.
Aunt May has one of those old-fashioned fireplaces that she liked to cook on; it always reminded me of being in a Victorian kitchen, but with copper pans.
I wave my hand over it and whisper, “ignis,” and flames roar to life.
I pour the hot water into the kettle, add it to the hook, and swing it into the fire.
I stopped at the shop in town before I got here to get some essentials, but I’m going to have to go shopping at some point; I can’t live off toast. Additionally, I need to plan for Gaelan’s arrival. Even if I now don’t think he will.
After making myself some tea and toast, I sit in the living room. The silence wraps around me, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so lonely. I close my eyes, and tears start to fall.
I miss my family.
A few hours later, I’m looking up at the attic hatch, wondering if it’s actually a good idea to go up or not—most scary movies and TV shows say that it’s not.
There’s always some creepy doll or ghost waiting to possess whoever enters their home.
The house protects itself from bad things, but I’m not sure if ghosts are included.
Bracing myself, I put my big girl panties on and begin climbing up the ladder, blindly reaching for the light when I get to the top.
Aunt May was always a bit of a clean freak, so, of course, everything is in order up here; boxes are labeled and stacked neatly, and the space is clean.
Although it’s only dusty because no one’s been up here for a while.
Looking around, I walk over to the first stack of boxes, with words written in pink pen on them: my aunt’s clothes and blankets.
She kept everything. I spot a stack of very old-looking boxes over in the far-right corner.
Walking over to them, I see that they have the name “Jay” on them with some kind of drawing; I can’t make out what it is, but it looks a bit like a lizard.
I pull open the first one and its photos and paintings, I smile, it’s of a pretty redhead with amber eyes, the ‘Jay eyes’ as my grandfather would call them.
I close the lid and push the box over to the hatch, then I go back for more.
By the time I’ve finished, I have a box of photos, a box of paperwork, and some letters.
I don’t know any spells for transporting, so I carry each one down and into the living room.
Now, with a sore back, I grab a bottle of wine and pull open the box containing the paperwork; it seems a good place to start.
Finishing the bottle of wine—which I needed to go through all these papers—I find that most of it is useless, and the stuff that isn’t is things I want to keep, such as my parents’ marriage certificates, for one, but nothing about the book or even where to find it.
“Fuck” I groan, wishing I’d gotten more than one bottle and had some dinner.
Standing up, I turn off the lights and head upstairs to bed. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day. I strip my clothes off and jump into bed, snuggling down. I don’t have my stars to look at here, so it takes me a while to drop off to sleep.
“My Rose.”
Darkness surrounds me; I blink, but I can’t adjust to the lack of light.
I hear the gentle flow of water and the sound of dripping.
My breath catches, making me regret taking it when a smell so foul burns my nose and makes bile fill the back of my throat.
Something rattles in the distance, like chains scraping across a stone floor.
I’m standing in the middle of a long corridor, and the only light is coming from torches, but they are spaced out so far that they might as well not be here. Not sure which way to go, I walk forward, fear pooling in my stomach. I’m starting to wish I had some kind of weapon with me.
Passing one door, a woman is hanging from the ceiling by her ankles. Her throat has been slit, and her blood drips into a bucket below. My hand covers my mouth at the sight, afraid to make any sound. I don’t know where I am, it’s a dream—I know it is—.
Not wanting to look anymore, I move quickly, stepping lightly and trying to keep my feet as quiet as possible.
I enter another room, where two women are laughing at the man tied to a table.
Both women are daemons of some kind; one has long gray hair, the other has bright orange hair.
The one with grey hair is naked and sitting on his face, grinding her pussy down on his mouth, muffling his cries.
The other one is sawing off his hard dick, the blood splattering all over her hands.
She licks it clean, and I watch as the pleasure from the taste of it washes over her face.
I can see his hands fisted at his sides; he can’t move or scream out for help, and I whimper at the sight before me.
What is this place?
“My Rose.” Hearing a whisper, I turn my head to see Gaelan up ahead. His blue eyes glow in the darkness while he grins, then turns and strolls into the shadows. I wait for him to get to the next torch so I can see him, but he’s vanished.
“Gaelan,” I call out and run down the corridor, rooms are flashing past me, each one a scream of pain comes rushing out from.
Pausing at the next room to catch my breath, I see a woman with black and green hair.
She drinks from a woman’s neck as her claws piston in and out of the woman’s pussy.
Blood coats her fingers, making them slip easily in and out; the sounds of the other woman’s flesh ripping echo in my ears.
I step forward wanting to help her, but I stop when the woman moans, and it’s then that I realize she’s enjoying this.
I frown, not understanding what this place is; it feels like a dream, but it also feels so real at the same time.
I move toward the cries of fear from the next room.
There’s a young woman on her knees, she’s maybe twenty years old, she’s naked, and her skin is brown from the dirt that covers her.
Her hair has been ripped out in places and is matted with blood in others; she has a metal collar around her neck, and tears are in her eyes.
A large daemon with black eyes is fucking her ass, his cock so large that I know it’s tearing her apart.
He moans and throws his head back, his claws digging into the flesh of her ass as he thrusts into her with so much force she almost shoots off the table.
I take a step into the room and freeze when she looks up and shakes her head.
Can she see me?
I go to step forward again, but I’m stopped when another daemon walks in; he has nipple clamps in his hands, and the evil grin that crosses his face makes me shudder with fear.
He walks over to her, leans down, and clamps them around her nipples before pulling on them, hard, and making her cry out.
He lifts her head, turning it to the side slightly as he uses his fingers to squeeze her lips open.
My stomach turns as a string of spit leaves his mouth and slowly drips into hers; her cries become frantic.
It’s then that I realize she wasn’t shaking her head at me.
It was at him.
He releases his grip, grabs her hair, and shoves his cock into her mouth. She gags, the choking echoes through the room before she throws up over his cock.
Tears of fear run down my cheeks. I want to go in and help her, I want to rip those daemons from her and take her away. But I can’t. This is just a dream.