Page 97 of What Lies Beyond the Realms

“Now, Lyra, you’ll drink from Citlali, or I’ll make things very difficult for you,” Samael tells me as he and Citlali move closer.

I squeeze my eyes shut, searching within myself for the fire I know is there. I focus on the heat building in my core, trying to call my magic forth. But it's no use. My body feels heavy and unresponsive.

Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my cheek, and my eyes snap open. Citlali has gripped my face, her nails digging into my skin. I try to scream, but the pressure on my cheeks silences me. My body is trapped, unable to move more than a few inches. I buck against the wall, feeling my wrists and ankles start to bleed. Distorted screams leave my mouth as I try to shake my head and will this all away.

Citlali squeezes my face harder, digging her nails into both cheeks, and my eyes fly open, meeting her gaze. Her red eyes glow into mine, and all I see in her expression is hatred. I’ve never done anything to this woman. Never met her before today. Why is she so full of hate?

She brings her hand that’s not holding my face up to her mouth and bites into her wrist, tearing the flesh open. I try to squirm and buck, but she presses in against my body. Her grip on my mouth never falters as she shoves her warm, bleeding wrist between my lips. Hot blood spills out, tainting my mouth with a copper metallic taste and filling my nose with the smell of rust. I cough and gargle, refusing to swallow and flopping my tongue around. I try to push the blood back out of my mouth through the cracks between her wrist and my lips. She presses my back into the stone wall so hard I think she’s going to crack one of my ribs. She squeezes my mouth harder and uses her bleeding wrist to shove my head back. The warm fluid starts to spill down my throat, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I’m choking, and I can’t breathe through my nose with my face smashed like this. Her blood just keeps pooling in my throat. I force myself to swallow, trying to get a breath in, but her blood just keeps coming.

“I think that’s enough.” I hear Samael’s voice, and Citlali lets go of my face and steps back.

I throw my head forward, spitting out the remaining blood left in my mouth and gasping for air. Blood spills all down my face and chest, and I can even feel it dripping down my legs. I gag as my stomach roils.

My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. I hold my breath, waiting for the ground to shake or the earth to crack open and swallow me. I have no idea what opening the bridge even means, but a part of me expects something dramatic to happen. When a few moments pass and nothing seems to be happening, I let out my breath in relief. I know the prophecy says I have to be given Lamia blood at a ceremony under the blood moon, but a part of me thinks maybe the bridge would open right now. Athalda didn’t tell Samael the truth, and he doesn’t know anything about the blood moon.

Everyone is silent, but Athalda’s eyes are still on me, and for a moment I swear she smirks at me. What’s she up to? Samael steals my attention away when he starts to throw a tantrum, stomping his feet and pulling at his hair.

“Why isn’t it working?” He breaks his usual composure. No one speaks. “What did you do?” he screams at Athalda’s face.

“Maybe she isn’t the key after all,” Athalda says in her usual hoarse voice.

“Impossible,” he hisses, turning to look at me. “You,” Samael mutters, moving toward me. I brace myself for whatever he’s going to do next. “What do you know? What did that old bitch tell you?” He grabs my face between his fingers.

“Nothing. She didn’t tell me anything. I don’t know anything, Samael,” I plead with him.

He releases my jaw, shoving my head to the side in the process. He starts to pace, circling the room. Everyone is silent, and I know I’m not the only one feeling the tension. Citlali stands in the corner with her red eyes fixed on me.

Before I realize what’s happening, Samael pulls a blade from his waist in a fit of rage and thrusts it into Athalda’s chest. I hear her sternum crack when the knife pierces the bone. The room is silent, and Athalda’s hands come up to the blade protruding out of her chest as she falls to her knees. A scream leaves my throat, and I choke out a sob as tears run down my cheeks.

“If she isn’t going to tell us anything useful, then I have no use for her,” Samael scoffs, turning back to come toward me.

I don’t take my eyes off Athalda’s as she chokes to get air and blood gurgles out of her mouth.

“Find me,” she whispers, spewing a mist of blood as she speaks Then she grabs the blade, pulling it free from her chest. Blood gushes out, and she falls forward in slow motion. She makes a wet slapping sound when she hits the stone floor.

I cannot believe my eyes. My brain is still trying to catch up to what’s happening. I can’t believe he killed her. I mean, technically she was already dead, I think. She said to find her. I can find her in Zomea? That has to be what she means. If only I knew how.

“Why did she say that? Tell me what you know, Lyra,” Samael spits at me, but I just glare at him. “Sweet sister, I’m losing my patience.” He taps his foot in front of me.

“I don’t know anything, Samael, and even if I did, I’d rather die than tell you,” I cry at him, speckling his top with redness.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you nicely, Lyra. What do you know about unlocking the bridge to Zomea?” Samael speaks slowly and sternly, annunciating all of his words.

I stare right at him and say slowly and sternly, “Go. Fuck. Yourself.” Then I smile big, flashing all my teeth.

Samael’s jaw ticks, and a small giggle escapes my throat.

“Citlali.” He says her name like it's an order.

She grabs a rod from the wall, and the last thing I see is her swinging it at my head.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“Time to wake up, my sweet,” Samael whispers in my ear, and my eyes shoot open. “Aw, nice of you to join us.”

I’m in my father’s old throne room by the looks of it, but everything is different. The queen's chair is gone. Only the king’s throne sits elevated at the far end of the room. He seems to have remodeled the throne room to be his very own private torture chamber. The dungeon down below had old rusty devices, but this room has shiny new toys for him to humiliate people with.

I’m positioned in the middle of the room facing the throne. My arms are strung up above my head tied with rope and strung around a beam. There’s a table in front of me with chains at the top and bottom. It appears to be a swivel table with a large tub underneath. I’ve read about these before, and they’re barbaric. You chain someone to the table, and when you tire of torturing them, you can flip the table and force their head into the tub of water for them to drown. I think I’m going to throw up. At least I didn’t wake up attached to the table. It’s what’s next to the table that sends a tight feeling through my chest and down to my stomach. There’s a table full of tools. I see a large sharp knife, several small, dull blades, needles and thread, a gag, a wrench, and several other things I don’t recognize but want nothing to do with.