Page 15
Drip.
Drip.
It churns my stomach. The rumbling, the blood, the otherworldly spirit I feel crawling through my bones. Something, someone, is here.
The Archon lifts his hands, and the murmuring deepens, grows louder, more hurried. “This offering,” his voice booms through the chant, “is given in devotion.”
My breath stutters. This is… some kind of sick ritual—a, a human sacrifice.
“To Asmodeus.”
“To Asmodeus!” they shout in unison. More chanting.
“Asmodeus, Demon of Lust, we give you this offering. Flesh and fear. Blood and innocence. Take her soul as tribute and bless this holy night.”
“Bless this night!”
I had no fucking idea. When I walked into this manor tonight, I thought it would be twisted rich people games. Humiliation. Fear play, scare actors. Maybe even some sick foreplay. Not this crazy shit.
A guard steps forward, pulling a long, rusted bone saw from beneath his cloak. The metal teeth stare at me as he kneels beside Veronica’s body, pressing the blade to her thigh. Oh God, he’s cutting. And cutting.
A wet, grinding sound tears through the graveyard, followed by the sickening crunch of flesh and bone. Blood sprays across the grass in thick, crimson arcs, staining the earth and their pristine black robes.
I can’t look away, but God, my stomach is heaving and twisting in knots.
When her leg finally comes off with a slimy pop, the guard lifts the severed limb like it’s an offering at communion.
“Each of you will take a bite,” Archon commands. “Asmodeus demands communion.”
Well shit, I spoke too soon.
A slew of hands force Sloane forward. The same guard who hacked the leg off—who must hold some rank—presses a gun to her head. My lungs practically forget how to produce air.
She’s already sobbing, shaking so hard her teeth chatter. “Please… I… can’t—”
The guard clicks the safety off.
“Okay, okay!” She squeezes her eyes shut, taking the tiniest bite possible, gagging violently as she forces it down. She clamps a hand over her mouth, fighting back another heave as her eyes water.
I feel like I have to throw up. Oh… God. What kind of sick shit is this?!
The tattooed guy is pushed up next. When it’s his turn to bite, he doesn’t even flinch. He tears off a chunk with his teeth, chews once, and swallows like it’s nothing. His eyes stay flat the entire time, the same bored look he’s worn all night.
Yuck. Maybe he really did just break out of prison.
I wait to see who’s next until the guard starts moving… He’s walking to me.
Oh. Oh, no.
He shoves the leg toward my mouth, the flesh now mangled with teeth marks. The stench of blood and raw meat hits me hard, and my vision tunnels.
Do it. Just do it. Get it over with.
He has a gun. The safety is already off.
Do it.
One bite.
