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Fuck. I’m losing my mind.
She turned and started back up the stairs. Her breath came short and quick as she pushed the thoughts from her mind.
A sound rang out above her, in the direction she’d come from, and made her freeze. Her blood chilled.
Tamaska wasn’t losing her mind, and she wasn’t alone.
Her heart lurched. She didn’t dare to move, let alone risk going back up the stairs. And she couldn’t stay here.
If the staircase led down, maybe there was a way out. But she didn’t want to run. She wanted to get to the balcony area and search for the gem.
Was it worth it?
The softest thump, a footstep on the top of the staircase above her, accelerated her decision. She could only go down and hope there would be a hiding place in the basement—or better still, a way out.
As she raced quickly down the final stairs, a second set of footsteps echoed toward her. Her senses seemed heightened to a level she’d never experienced before.
Since when did my hearing get so sharp?
It didn’t matter. All that mattered was escape. Self-preservation spurred her instincts on, and she rushed down a narrow, dark corridor.
Except it wasn’t as dark as it should be.
Add my eyesight to that list, too.
Soft, orange guide lights pushed back some of the thick, heavy darkness. Yet Tamaska could see the details of the basement area as if it were fully lit.
Her senses screamed. Someone knew she was there. That someone had followed her. She needed to keep moving.
Evenly spaced doors dotted each side of the corridor. Ahead stood a brick wall and an old wooden table with a vase of black roses and a flickering candle. Sensing no way out past the wall, she turned her attention to the doors. Did she dare to open one? The thought of the strange kitchens upstairs chilled her.
She was running out of options.
If she was found, who knew what might happen to her alone in the basement? She would lose the chance to find the Blood Opal, and she wasn’t about to let that happen.
One door stood ajar. Tamaska pushed it open and stepped inside. Immediately, she wished she’d taken her chances and gone back upstairs.
The chilly air in the room hurt her lungs. A strong metallic stench seemed to stain the air, permeating everything.
And in the middle of the room sat a huge, thick table, like an evil thing. It made her want to run as the panic slid in close to her bones, but curiosity drew her closer.
Strange swirl patterns were engraved deeply into the tabletop. The space had to be for something sacrificial. Her gut twisted.
What the fuck goes on here?
She knew.
Red liquid pooled deep in the carved crevices. Was that…blood? Something drew her to it. She reached out, hand shaking, and pressed her fingers against the table.
A jolt went through her, and she snatched her hand away. What was that strange sensation? It wasn’t sharp or burning hot, but more like an energy zap that sent an uncomfortable vibration up her arm. Like a low-level electric shock. It didn’t hurt, but the unpleasantness left her wanting to back away.
Moisture clung to her fingers, and her stomach heaved as she looked. It was definitely blood, fresh enough to still be wet, but congealed. Her mind filled once more with the images of blood drinking.
Coming here was a mistake. I have to go.She turned to step away and bumped into something. And screamed.
Cory.
He looked pale, eyes sunken, lips red, so different to when he worked as her assistant.
