Page 165 of Hellbound

But something was horrifyingly wrong.

Her body twitched, bones cracking, rearranging as her nails dug into the grass by Vezna’s headstone.

Her arm twisted as something wholly inhuman took hold. Ksenia scrambled backward, hitting the low stone wall, eyes wide.

Milena’s body jerked upright, limbs spidered, mouth slackened, and she smiled through her slashed throat.

Ksenia sprang to her feet and bolted to the garden’s exit. It seemed to stretch with each step, the end becoming a pinprick in her vision.

And behind her, Milena’s spasming body blurred in the shadows.

The air warped, the edges of her vision folding inward as the ground beneath her feet slanted at impossible angles.

She lurched from wall to wall down the never-ending hallway.

The firelight from the torches seared her eyes like hot pokers. She could hear the sound of dragging. Milena. Or something wearing her skin.

Shapes slithered just out of view. The fire burned red. The passing portraits whispered to her.

She slammed into a door, sliding down the wood. Paralysis was setting in.

Her diaphragm would stop functioning soon.

The door flung open. “There had better be—”

Milena’s body smacked into the wall down the hallway, a splatter of blood left on impact. She reoriented and skittered toward Ksenia, her neck flapping open.

Ksenia tried to scream, but she coughed up blood instead.

Hands. Too many hands, clutching at her face, her throat, twining through her hair, holding her limbs down.

Her nightmare made real.

A firm hand cupped the back of her head, crushing her body to theirs as they pulled her through the entryway and kicked the door shut.

She was deposited on a soft bed.

“Do you know who I am?” The voice was breathless. “Tell me your name.”

Cool fingers pried her eyes open, and her pupils lolled back.

A familiar face swam with the tapestry above the bed.

A riot of animals and flora rippled like waves on the black lake. Green eyes shone like beacons into hers.

The heat reached her neck, suffocating and sweet in its intensity as she focused her gaze on the person above her.

They remained sharp and solid against the fever dream, anchoring her to a twisted reality as her eyes memorized every line and angle with dizzy worship.

Metal pricked her arm, and darkness swallowed her whole.

The Vein was burning.

Smoke choked the narrow passageways and streets as crimson-cloaked guards dragged people from their stands. Ksenia stumbled through the chaos, unsure of what to do or where to go.

Varka stood before her, surrounded by a rush of people as they sought their escape.

“You were in the perfect position to strike, and you failed,” Varka said, her voice cutting.