The demons’ grips tightened.
I thrashed, screaming at them. When that didn’t work my voice dropped low, menacing. “I swear, if you don’t let me go, I will hunt each one of you down and kill you.”
Okay, it was an empty threat, but—
I cried out as one of them cut behind my knee. I felt the press of cold metal and the drip of blood as they collected it in another container.
“Stop, please,” I begged, my eyes finding Lila’s. A shameful tear snaked out of my eye.
She petted my hair back. “You look so pretty when you cry. It’s going to be alright.”
More pain followed her words as the demons continued to bleed me. I reached for my power again, but it was so weak. The demons didn’t even pause when it battered against them.
Lila clucked her tongue. “That’ll only make this take longer.”
I was going to die, and the very things I unwittingly created were going to be responsible for it. They’d make it slow, too.
I had to remember who was really responsible for this. The devil promised that he’d never hurt me. He’d lied, as usual, and I was the sucker that believed him.
Black dots danced in front of my eyes. My breathing became labored. What was the point? I felt my muscles relax and my mind began to slip, slip away.
“Get her some blood!” someone shouted—Lila, I think.
Off in the distance, I heard a shriek. It cut off abruptly, followed by a gurgle. A chorus of screams rose in response. The smell of foreign blood grew stronger, and I forced my eyes open. I hadn’t realized I’d closed them.
A demon holding a cup pushed through the group and came to stand next to my head. I could smell the metallic scent of blood and the fear that had been taken with it. The creature extended the glass, pressing it to my lips.
Those earlier screams … they’d butchered and bled someone, and now they were feeding me that person’s blood. Bile rose up again. I tried to turn away from the cup, but the other demons had me pinioned. I pressed my lips tightly together.
Another creature grabbed my jaw and squeezed, placing more and more pressure on it. Still I kept my jaw clamped shut. I wouldn’t do it. They couldn’t get me to drink it.
But they could.
Claws tore into the skin of my cheeks; my jaw felt as though it was about to break. My lips reluctantly parted, and the demon began to pour the blood down. I began to cry in earnest as I unwillingly drank it. The siren wept with me. Lila watched the entire time, a creepy little smile on her face.
The blood kept coming, and when I’d finished the glass they’d poured down my throat, they replaced it with another, forcing the liquid down until I no longer fought them.
The demons hadn’t cut me for a while, and I thought, rather optimistically, that perhaps they were done. As soon as they removed the chalice from my lips, I felt the first prick of pain. I thought wrong.
They began to cut into me again and again, collecting my blood and carting it off. I had to deal with the very real possibility that from now on, my nights would be like this—sliced and bled to create an unholy horde of them. And then they’d wipe out the earth.
I wanted to scream and rally against that. I wanted to strike down each and every one of them. But even after the blood, I was still weak, and with each cut I grew weaker.
My eyes drooped again, and again I heard more screams. A minute later they forced more blood down my throat. My strength returned, awful consciousness returned. My fear and my horror returned. Then the cutting began once more.
Over and over again it went, each round more brutal than the last, and I recovered less and less. How long had it been? Minutes? Hours?
Darkness rimmed the edges of my vision. It crept closer and closer. I couldn’t push it away, not even a little. And then it embraced me completely.
Chapter 23
Andre
They were too late.
The intricately carved rooms that made up the Mogao Caves Oliver led them to were already abandoned, the smell of burnt blood thick in the air. It mixed with the stench of the newly dead. On either side of him, time-faded paint clung to the earthen walls, depicting Buddhist imagery. Now bright speckles of blood partially obscured them.
A year ago Andre wouldn’t have recognized the emotion that had his chest rising and falling faster and faster. Now he was familiar with the tight grip of fear.
Screams floated in from beyond the ancient walls. It was the sound of dying dreams, dying lives. Had the situation been different, Andre might’ve tried to help, but right now he had to find his soulmate. That ran on loop in his head.
The farther in they walked, the stronger the smell of flesh and blood.
“Oliver, Leanne, don’t leave my side. And … prepare yourselves.”