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.”
Andre followed the smell, his strides purposeful. They passed through beautiful rooms cut from rock. Sacred rooms. But not Christian ones that could keep demons—and Andre—out. If they could, he would be a pile of ash resting at the threshold of this place.
The next room they walked into halted Andre in his tracks. He’d been expecting the carnage, his nose had prepared him. But there were some things the eyes were never ready for.
The room was full of butchered innocents. Slashed throats, glassy eyes, mouths open in silent screams. Blood and gore covered them and the ground they lay upon. It was a shock every time evil showed its true face.
A small noise slipped out of Leanne’s lips.
Andre’s fear only deepened as he studied the wounds of the dead. They’d been torn apart, no one death exactly like the other, but each always had one consistent wound. A cut along an artery.
If they did this to innocents, what did they do to his mate?
His mouth tightened as he passed through the room. None of the bodies were Gabrielle’s. Her body would no longer exist on this realm if that were the case.
The smell of so much blood had distracted him from Gabrielle’s scent. Now he caught a whiff of it, and it overwhelmed his senses.
He was moving before he was even cognizant of it.
Her blood.
Her blood.
Her blood.
Too much of it outside of her body. Far too much to survive. And that excluded all the blood that had hit the ground and vaporized.
Andre almost fell to his knees then. Leanne had warned him they’d probably be too late. He’d braced himself for it, but just like seeing great evil, there was no preparing for the reality of losing the love of your life.
No matter how many times it happened.
Masochist that he was, Andre pressed on. When he entered the chapel, he saw her.
Dios mio.
He stopped at the threshold, his feet taking him no farther.
Gabrielle lay on a stone altar, her arms folded across her chest, her face serene. She wore a crimson gown, the color saturated with her blood and the blood of the dead. The fabric stuck to her skin, and he could see rivulets of the viscous liquid dripping down her arms and snaking through her hair. Even her bare feet were mostly coated with it.
Drip, drip, drip.
Blood snaked down the sides of the altar, drenching most of what had probably once been a holy surface. Only her face was untouched, and she looked … serene.
So long as Andre lived, he would remember the sight of her so at peace amongst this bloodshed.
Behind him he heard the pattering of Oliver and Leanne’s footsteps.
When they got to his side, the fairy gasped. “Is that—? Did she kill—?”
“No.” Andre couldn’t believe Gabrielle was responsible for the carnage in the other room. He wouldn’t.
“What happened?” Oliver asked.
They stared at the one person who might know, but she was as still as death.
Tha-thump.
She lives.
The sound of her heartbeat jolted him into action. Andre moved as fast as his legs could take him, crossing the room, his boots splashing through puddles of blood. Whatever had happened to her, she’d at least survived it. Finally, finally, some of Andre’s fear dissipated. The desperate need to protect her grew in its place, borne from the possibility that she really was losing herself to the devil.
He dragged her off the altar and into his arms. With one hand, Andre cradled her head and shoulders against his chest, uncaring that the blood of so many men and women now seeped into his clothing. His soulmate, his beautiful, tormented soulmate.
He’d been here before, done this before. And now he’d do it again.
Andre brought his wrist to his lips. His fangs dropped, and he used them to slice open his skin. Blood welled and he pressed the wound to Gabrielle’s lips.
She wasn’t responding.
His wound sealed up, and he had to reopen it, again and again. On the seventh try, he felt her mouth latch onto his wrist. His body relaxed as she drank from his vein, and he pulled her closer.
“I will never give up on you, my sun,” he whispered to her in Romanian. “I will pull you from the dark, just as you have me.”
Leanne and Oliver watched from the doorway, not daring to come any closer.
Andre pushed the blood-matted hair away from his mate’s forehead. Her skin brightened, either from the blood or the close contact, and after another minute or so, her eyes fluttered open.
“Soulmate,” he said.
Her mouth left his wrist and her throat worked. She stared at him as he pulled her more fully into his arms, a strange look on her face. Her throat still worked and her nostrils flared. She began to shake in his arms. And then, all at onc
e, she came apart.
She let out a shuddering sob. Her eyes grew faraway as the trembling increased. He’d seen this before, usually from men freshly removed from battlefields. Trauma.
She drew in a long breath and closed her eyes. When they opened again, she was back with him.
“My blood. They took it. The demons. They held me down and took it. Then they forced me to drink blood of the people they killed, so they could take more of mine.”
Christo. The horror of it all weakened his knees; if he hadn’t already been kneeling, that would’ve brought him to the ground. They did this to the most powerful woman he knew. They did this to the person that released them. They did this to his soulmate.
The power he kept locked away rose, as it usually did when Gabrielle’s life was threatened. Oliver and Leanne, who had crept closer at the sound of their friend’s voice, were now pushed back by the force of it.
Something built at the back of his throat—a roar, a wail, something. The bulk of his power gathered around it, building, building—
A cry cut through his awareness.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Get it off of me.”
He glanced down at his soulmate to see her clawing at the bloody robe she wore, horror plastered across her face.
His power dissipated as he focused on her. Now wasn’t exactly the time or place to change. Demons were still wreaking havoc outside these walls—if the screams were anything to go by—and they could be back soon. Not to mention that on any other occasion, Gabrielle would be terrified to expose herself in such a place, especially when she didn’t have clothes to change into.
But he couldn’t bear to see her traumatized, and she couldn’t bear to wear the clothes her tormentors must’ve given her.
“Oliver, Leanne, turn around.”
“Don’t need to ask me twice,” Oliver muttered. “Boobs hold no sway over me.”
Andre turned his attention back to his soulmate as her friends faced away from them. Gabrielle was already ripping the fabric, uncaring that she was exposing herself as she did so.
Andre shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. He grabbed her bloodstained hands and clasped them in his own. She yanked against his hold, but he wouldn’t let them go.
“Andre—” she sobbed out.
“Look at me,” he commanded. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly she did so.
“Let me do this, love.”
She frowned, her lower lip trembling—her entire body trembling. And damn if the sight didn’t break something in him. He would tear out her enemies’ hearts and dance upon their ashes for this.
She released a long breath and nodded.
Andre ripped the dress down the middle, scowling with each yank. The devil did this. He’d been given this covetous bond, this radiant woman, and he was destroying her piece by piece. Andre’s resolve hardened into place. They would trump the devil at whatever game he was playing, and they would do it soon.
Once he’d ripped the dress off, he removed his shirt and used it to wipe off the blood that stained her skin. He couldn’t get it all off, but he did the best he could, even toweling off her hair. His soulmate pulled his jacket closer around her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He paused, then grabbed her chin. “Never thank me for something like this.”
Before she could respond, he kissed her. She latched onto him, falling into the kiss like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. He clutched her close, breaking off the kiss to whisper. “I will always come for you. I will always follow you, and I will always, always try to save you.”
Gabrielle
I lay cradled in Andre’s arms as he, Leanne, and Oliver led me back to Bishopcourt. As far as coping went, on a scale of one to ten, I was at a two. Physically, I might be in the arms of my soulmate, but mentally, I was still pinned to that altar, being sliced open over and over again.
Lila and those demons disrobed me at some point. I’d been unconscious and they’d changed me. And they were minions of hell.
Don’t think about that.
I must’ve let out a sob because Andre tightened his hold. “You’re safe, soulmate.”
He whispered to me in Romanian, pressing me close to his chest. He’d finally gotten the damsel in distress that he always wanted. I was pretty sure he now regretted ever wanting her.
The demons took so much blood. They had to have brought hundreds—if not thousands—more to life. That many could destroy entire cities within a day. The world was in serious trouble.
It was a sobering thought that I really was the anti-Christ even against my will. I didn’t want to bring the blight to earth, but I had. The time for denial was over.
“I have to see him.” I whispered more to myself than anyone else.
The devil, the man who forced me to hell and ordered me to be cut and bled, would be waiting for me on the other side of dawn.
Andre didn’t respond to my words, so I continued to speak. “He did this, and now I have to see him.”
Andre gathered me closer to him. “I swear I will spend every last breath hunting him down.”
Bloody tears slipped out of my eyes. There was no armor strong enough to protect me from the devil.
I drew deep on my own need for retribution and vengeance.
“I will be the one to stop him.” My voice came out colder and stronger than I’d planned. “I will be the one to end this once and for all.”
Chapter 24
Gabrielle
The brush of lips against my wrist roused me. My eyes snapped open, taking in the vaulted onyx ceilings and the agonized faces that seemed to be carved into the stone itself.
I jerked my hand away from the thing that kissed it, my chest rising and falling faster and faster as I became more aware of my surroundings. I pushed myself into a sitting position, noticing absently that I’d woken up in the bed I’d dreaded so much only days ago. Now betrayal overrode fear.
The devil watched me, his face passive. He’d been bent on his knee next to the bed when I woke up. He stood.
“You said you’d never hurt me.” My voice broke as I spoke.
He winced, and the sight of it infuriated me.
“Don’t pretend you feel something,” I snapped.
I needed off this bed. I needed to pace.
“Oh, but I do,” he said, those strange eyes of his taking me in. “For the first time in a long time, I do feel.”
“Your demons held me down and cut me over and over again.” My voice broke. “I know you were the one that ordered it.”
“I did what I had to do for us both.”
There. He admitted it—and savaged my heart while he was at it.
“You did it to punish me,” I clarified. I knew enough about him to know that he’d punish me for betraying him like I had over the last few days.
“No,” he said obstinately.
I would’ve been surprised had I actually believed him.
He grabbed my shoulders. “I am telling the truth.”
I pushed his hands away, turning my face from him. I couldn’t stand to look into those eyes.
He grasped my face and rotated it so that I was forced to gaze at him. “I did it for us, and I would do it a thousand times over.” Wrath clouded his features.
A thousand times over.
I barely survived it once.
I needed to get away from this monster. I scrambled off the far side of the bed. He stood as I rounded it, seeking to cut me off. The doorway out was on the other side of him.
I ignored his presence as I made a beeline for the exit. My body was too small to contain all the anger, all the pain, all the terror that coursed beneath my skin.
The devil didn’t like me ignoring him. He caught my arm and spun me around.
“Let me go.” I pushed at his hands.
“Listen to me.”
“Let me go!” Now I struggled in earnest.
“You will not
be mad at me.”
“Fuck you. I’m not mad at you—I hate you.”
Our connection throbbed, weeped. We were wrapped up in each other, our destructive natures circling one another.
“No,” he said, grabbing my upper arms and squeezing them.
I pushed against him. “Yes,” I hissed. “I hate you so much it’s hard to breathe.”
His face was the epitome of anger. His eyes traveled over my features, his upper lip curling. Then he reeled me in and he pressed a kiss against my lips.
I pushed against him, fought as his mouth pried mine open. And then I tasted him, the brimstone and ash and blood. The taste of endless death and pain. My power flared, and I slammed it into him. He stumbled back, but once he regained his footing, he moved into my space again.
“How dare—”
I slapped him, putting the full brunt of my strength behind it. His head whipped to the side, and he froze in that position.
My breaths came in angry heaves, and I didn’t care. I was done being used, done bending to an unbending man. Done with this.
He touched his cheek. “You hit me.” His face twitched like it couldn’t decide what expression to wear.
I did, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit that it felt good. I’d be high-fiving angels right now if I could.
Suddenly, the devil whirled on me. He grabbed my neck and swiped my legs out from under me. I hit the ground hard, and the devil came down with me. All I could sense from him was his barely contained nature. All that evil pressing down, peering at me through humanoid eyes.
I so did not sign up for this shit.
His face hovered right over mine, and the fingers around my throat dug in.
“Do it,” I wheezed. “Hurt me worse than your demons did. Give me another reason to hate you.” It was so much easier to ignore our terrible connection this way.
He released my neck and slammed his fist into the floor. “Bloody fucking hell! I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes flashing.
The Damned (The Unearthly Book 5) Page 18
