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Cybil’s chin and pale lips were stained crimson to match her eyes. She bared her fangs, as she rushed the bars, growling for more blood. Her wild mass of gold hair formed a halo around her youthful face.
A purr rumbled, low like thunder, from the cell to her right, and Cybil’s head turned sharply. She lurched toward the separating wall, her motions abrupt and jerky.
Dane often wondered if she realized Isaiah was the beast that killed their mother.
She pressed her face against the stone wall and purred, red eyes closing, small white fangs showing behind her stained, parted lips. Dane’s spine stiffened as Isaiah moved, his chains rattling and dragging over the dirt floor.
“Hey!” he called, but the bastard ignored him. From the dark shadows of his cell, he crept closer to the bars, leaning into the exact spot on the wall opposite Cybil.
The vibrations coming from his sister’s throat grew louder as she moved her face, much like a cat nuzzles when wanting to be fed. Dane frowned. He’d never seen her do such a thing.
Rising from the floor, he grabbed a torch from the wall and moved closer to the bars. “Cybil.”
She paid him no mind as she rubbed her face on the wall and purred. Dust crumbled and then he saw it.
“Son of a bitch.” He angled the torch, trying to cast more light into her cell. Anyone could miss it if they didn’t know where to look, but Dane now saw it clear as day—a missing stone.
“Cybil, get away from there!”
She ignored him, too besotted by the wall to even hiss or growl at him. She just closed her eyes and purred, as did Isaiah.
“Hey!” Dane snapped, banging the stick against the bars. “Stay away from her!”
The missing stone in the wall was small, leaving an opening no larger than a fist, but it was enough for Cybil to fit her small hand through. Luckily, she wasn’t doing that.
Then Isaiah lifted a hand and the metal cuff on his arm raised the chain. Bones cracked and popped, as his filthy hand deformed into a misshapen claw. The fucker was literally breaking his own hand.
He should call for help, but who would hear him? “Fuck!”
Shoving the torch back into the hook on the wall, he paced and panicked. Isaiah could easily slide out of the manacle with his hand broken the way it was, but he wasn’t trying to escape. He just stood there, slouched against the wall breathing heavily while Cybil purred. Then he raised his broken hand.
“Hey!”
He reached into the hole, fitting his hand through the crumbling stone, and touched Cybil.
“Get your fucking hand off of her!”
His sister dragged her cheek over his filthy, deformed knuckle and purred, her claws extended, scraping at the stone wall while Isaiah touched her.
“Cybil, stop!”
Her snarled hair wound around the dirt-crusted knuckles as their purrs amplified. Dane bolted toward the door then doubled back, afraid to leave her and unsure what to do. Although caged and chained, they were both immeasurably stronger than him.
“Don’t you fucking touch her!”
Their indifference to his rage overwhelmed him with panic. He was powerless to stop the piece of shit from stroking her face.
“Help!” His only hope was that the bishop would hear him.
Without the help of an elder immortal, Dane couldn’t safely enter his sister’s cell. She would attack him as ruthlessly as she attacked the cup of blood he’d offered.
Snatching the pewter goblet off the ground he threw it through the bars. It hit the stone wall and clattered to the dirt floor. Cybil bared her fangs and hissed, but Isaiah’s finger was there, teasing over her lips as he turned his wrist toward her mouth.
Dane stared in horror. They had done this before. It was obvious by the way she seemed aware of his expectation and glad to accept his offering.
“Cybil, no!”
Her jaw swiftly unhinged and her sharp teeth sank into Isaiah’s flesh. The masculine grunt that came from the shadows sickened him.
“Stop!” Dane screamed, frantic and unsure how to stop them. “Eleazar! Somebody!”
He stared in horror as his little sister moaned and fed. Her body gyrated as she greedily pulled from Isaiah’s vein. Dane didn’t want to watch but couldn’t look away.
“Fuck! Stop it, Cybil! You don’t want to do this.” His voice broke as the repulsive display continued on.
The disgusting slurping caused Dane to cover his ears in horror. Their labored breathing filled the quiet basement.
“Cybil! Cybil, stop!” Nothing could break her focus as she fed from him.
He didn’t understand. Isaiah was starved, fed blood only twice a month with the arrival of each new moon. Why would he offer her his blood when he was already so weak?
The masculine moans took on a carnal cadence and the chains shifted. Dane couldn’t see his red eyes anymore but he made out the curve of his body in the shadows, rocking slowly against the wall.
