Winds of Chaos (Tainted Blood Book 3)

by Jeff Gunzel

  Viola watched two pokers get pulled from the hot coals, their ends a deep red with black smoke coiling up from the tips. Right over the top of her head they were handed to the guard behind her. Salina pushed up from the sand and crawled towards Viola on all fours. There was nothing she could do to stop it, but that didn’t mean she would abandon her friend, either. Viola’s lips trembled with terror, her eyes wide with fear, staring off at nothing. Her mind seemed trapped in some faraway place. She didn’t appear to notice when Salina’s fingers slipped in between her own, grasping her hands. She didn’t so much as blink when Salina leaned her forehead against hers.

  “Viola,” she whispered, their cheeks nearly touching. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, you hear me? I need you to stay with me. You must concentrate.” Viola’s vacant eyes rolled away, her lips still trembling as if she were freezing. “Viola!” Those red eyes snapped into focus, suddenly looking at Salina as if only now noticing her.

  Ignoring Salina, Diovok leaned over her and held the parchment out in front of the guard. Obviously, this map of sorts was to be his guide while he worked.

  The man nodded, then lined up his steaming rods accordingly. Salina ripped a strip of cloth from her tunic, then quickly rolled it as tight as she could. “Bite this,” she whispered, shoving the piece into Viola’s mouth. But she didn’t bite down. She did nothing but tremble, her tear-filled eyes wide with disbelief. How could this be happening? What had she done to deserve this?

  Similar to when her arm was branded, Viola first heard the hiss of hot metal searing flesh, accompanied by a slight pressure beneath both arms. Then the pain hit like a storm... Her ensuing scream shook the walls, a bloodcurdling screech that even saw Umoro cover his ears and look away. Inhuman, primal…only the sound of a demon being skinned alive could compare. The haunting echo seemed to radiate from everywhere at once, a lingering chorus of torment riding the wind like a lost soul. Then that too faded away in a haunted whimper of repeated echoes.

  “Listen to me. You must hear my voice,” Salina pleaded, shaking away the ringing in her ears. Viola’s face was twisted in agony, her eyes pressed shut while her body trembled. “You’ll go mad if you don’t do as I say. Count with me. Distract your mind or lose it forever! One hundred, ninety-eight, ninety-six.” Counting backward by twos, Viola’s faint voice joined in. Together they chanted as one, trying to keep Viola’s mind focused on something other than the pain.

  Diovok leaned over Salina again, completely ignoring both of them as he held out the chart once more. Sliding his finger over, he tapped the exact spot where the next round should take place.

  “Ninety, eighty-eight...”

  The masked being didn’t even look down as the chant continued at his feet. After the guard was given a new pair of rods fresh from the coals, Diovok tapped his finger again for emphasis. This was a specific science that had to be applied just so.

  “Eighty-two, eighty...”

  The guard positioned his rods, taking care to hover over just the right pressure points. One down...too many more to go. They would be here a while. “Seventy-eight, seventy-six, seventy-four...”

  * * *

  Stiff as a board, hands flat against her sides, Viola looked much like a corpse as she stared up at the ceiling. Unblinking, unmoving, it was hard to say just how long she had remained in this position. Salina watched her from her bed, many a time her mouth opening to say something, anything, only to think better of it before looking away. What could she possibly say to this tortured soul? Words of comfort would only come across as some kind of cruel joke. Nothing she could say would remove that tortured experience from Viola’s mind. She felt helpless.

  Viola closed her eyes, her fingers twitching ever so slightly. It was the first time she had moved in hours. In truth, the burn cream along with a bit of magical healing had done wonders for her… physically. Her body felt perfectly fine. But what of her mind? Could such a cream or remedy repair her shattered emotions, take away the agonizing memory that bloomed back to life every time she closed her eyes?

  “Viola?” Salina said, her voice but a whimpering rasp drifting through the darkness. “I-I don’t know what to— If there is anything I can—”

  “Go to sleep,” Viola replied, her voice cold, emotionless, dead.

  “Viola, we can’t keep on pretending this didn’t happen. I really think you need to talk to—”

  Viola rolled her head, her red eyes fixed in a glare that chilled Salina’s blood. “Go to sleep,” she repeated. Her words were even softer the second time, yet carried the weight of a thousand stones. Swallowing any remaining words still caught in her throat, Salina sighed and rolled back to face the wall. There really was nothing more she could do.

  After a time, Viola heard the slow breaths of deep sleep coming from her roommate’s corner. But it would be a long time yet before her own body would find rest. The sounds of her own screams rattled around in her head, a distant echo permanently burned into her subconscious. How could anyone ever repair such damage to their own mind? Did time really heal all wounds?

  She jumped at the creak of settling stone, a muffled pop that might as well have been a murderous scream. The walls felt as if they were closing in around her. Her mind had become every bit a prison as the stone that held her physical body captive. A twitch of white flashed past the doorway, causing her to sit up straight. She rubbed her eyes, blinking several times before staring back out into the hall. Darkness, silence—there was nothing there. I’m going mad... The clinking sound of a dropped can rattled from out in the hallway. She glanced over at Salina, wondering if any of this was even real. Was her mind just playing tricks?

  “Salina?” she whispered. Salina’s chest rose and fell, the occasional mumble interrupting her light snoring. Deciding there was no reason to wake her, Viola rolled off her bed and went to go investigate. Why draw any more attention to her slow spiral into madness by involving others? They would all bear witness to it soon enough. Peeking her head into the hall, she glanced around. Nothing but darkness. But just as she stepped back to return to her bed, she heard a banging sound. Louder than before, it sounded like it was only a few feet away. Dashing into the hall, again she found herself staring into darkness. But the sound had come from right here.

  “Hello?” she said, feeling foolish even before the word left her lips. She wasn’t the only one here. A guard, one of the other captives, perhaps. Those sounds could have been made by anyone. But instead of returning to her room, she felt compelled to further investigate. I really have gone mad.

  Nearing the intersecting crossway, she could swear there was someone standing up ahead. In the dark it was hard to tell, and she certainly didn’t trust her eyes anymore. But when it moved, she was certain. “Hello?” she shouted just as the figure disappeared down the left corridor. What looked like a series of white ribbons trailed behind the figure like streamers.

  Curiosity winning out over caution, she rushed up to the crossway just in time to see the trail of ribbons turn the next corner. “Who’s there?” she rasped, intending to shout yet barely producing any sound at all. Should she alert one of the guards or go back and wake Salina? But the figure would most certainly be gone by that time. For some reason it seemed important not to let it out of her sight.

  Turning the next corner, suddenly everything seemed to warp. The walls breathed in and out, her feet churning in mud as she tried to reach the end of the hall that seemed to constantly be moving away. In a snap of blurred reality, the end wall rushed up on her. Only a few feet away, she found herself staring at the back of the white figure.

  Wearing a white dress, the bottom tattered in long flowing strips, the figure faced away from her, but was no longer trying to run. “Are you lost?” Viola asked, realizing the absurdity of her own question. Who would be lost down here? How did this girl get down in here in the first place?

  The figure in white slowly turned back, white hair dragging across her shoulders, black lips turne
d up in an impish grin. Her red eyes glistened in the low light. Viola gasped, her mind unable to grasp—unable to accept—that there was a perfect reflection of herself smiling back at her.

  “I don’t believe I’m the one who’s lost,” said her image, the voice slightly different than Viola’s but still plenty familiar. “You, on the other hand...”

  “Wha— Wh-Who are you?”

  The figure flipped her hair to the side, tilting her head with childish innocence. “Don’t you know? Has it been so long that you no longer recognize me?”

  “I don’t understand,” said Viola, her eyes beginning to tear. It was all too much. “Why are you haunting me? You can’t be real. Please, go away.”

  “Again you are mistaken,” said the figure. “For you see, you are the one haunting me!” Her red eyes flared, blazing like hot embers before dimming back down into a deep shade of red. That childish smile returned as she cocked her head the other way. “And if you don’t stop soon, we both shall suffer greatly. I don’t want to live like this. I can’t imagine you want to, either.”

  “I don’t understand,” Viola repeated, tears flowing freely now. “What do you want from me?”

  “You must let go before it’s too late!” Her hissing whisper echoed from everywhere at once. “Xavier, Liam—the humans are no longer part of your life. But most of all, you must release me.”

  For the first time, Viola saw a familiarity in those eyes staring back at her. That innocence, it was a version of herself she thought long dead. The version that knew nothing of the world, that cared for people even though they treated her like a monster. It was the version of her that had no place in this world. A ghost, a shadowed memory. This representation of herself existed a lifetime ago, yet here she stood, desperate and pleading.

  “They’re coming,” her image warned, alert eyes darting around in terror. Viola glanced around but heard and saw nothing. “I am no longer a part of you. You are dead to me.”

  “Why are you saying such things?” Viola whimpered, overwhelming emotion flooding through her. “You were me once. You still are me! I understand that much has happened, but I will always embrace my past. Help me. I need your strength. We are the same person!”

  The image cocked her head, gazing back with amused curiosity. “You are mistaken, again,” she whispered, a drawn-out hiss that echoed through the darkness. “That is no longer true. I am nothing more than a shadow of your former self, a ghost of your past that you must release. For you see, I am the one who is innocent, pure of heart. I am the one who Xavier loves!”

  Viola’s knees buckled, barely able to support her weight. She nearly dropped to the floor. The image’s eyes pulled back into her head, leaving behind empty dark spheres of black. The skin of her face withered, browning strips peeling away as if rotting in real time right before her eyes. Exposed teeth grinned a decayed, lipless smile. The skinless jaw opened wide, words spilling out in a seamless echo. “Who could ever love you? You are nothing but a murderer!”

  Viola woke with a jolt, hands groping all over her. She screamed, thrashing to get away. Ripped from her bed, she was sent tumbling to the floor with a hard thud. “Get off her! Leave her alone!” Salina shrieked, leaping from her bed while attempting to wrap her arms around one of the men from behind. The guard whirled back, rewarding her efforts with a solid right to the jaw.

  “Stand down, slave!” he warned, hand fingering the hilt of the sword at his side. “You will not interfere with the king’s orders. Either you stay here and keep breathing, or we slit your throat, leaving you to drown in your own blood. Then we take her anyway. The choice is yours.” Head snapping forward, he suddenly stumbled right towards Salina, nearly falling right on top of her. “Get off me! Stop her,” he roared to the guard who had been kicked into his back.

  One on one with the remaining guard, Viola broke free of his grip. Knowing he would give chase immediately, she stopped and turned after three steps, then delivered a spinning elbow straight back. His nose crunched under the force, misting the air with a fine cloud of red. Positioned to deliver a follow-up right, she spun away instead and ran from the room. On his knees, holding his own face with blood running between his fingers, he was no longer a threat. All she wanted to do was create enough separation to get away.

  Her bare fleet slapped the stone as she ran, but the suppressing effects of the collar hindered her top speed. The walls of the hallway seemed to warp, moving in and out around her, smothering, suffocating. A white figure rose up from the stone before her, its eyeless black sockets and skinless face flashing a skeletal grin. “Let me go!” it hissed. Viola rushed straight through the illusion, distorting its image like misty vapor. She raced around the next corner only to see it rise up once more. “You must release me,” it whispered, a bony finger curling, beckoning her towards it.

  Viola stopped, sliding down to her knees. She covered her ears, lowered her head, and closed her eyes. “What do you want from me? Leave me alone!” she wailed, her hissing screech cutting through the walls, rattling their very foundation. A sword pommel came down from behind, cracking her in the back of the head. An explosion of pain, a flash of white, and she toppled forward, sprawling across the floor.

  Her senses slowly returning, she lifted her head in a drunken haze. Vision blurry, she tried to focus her thoughts through the confusion. Both arms were elevated, and her knees dragged along the stone. Blinking away the fog, she could see a room with an open door just up ahead. There she could see Diovok, that unmistakable masked figure looming near the wall. At his side stood Kuuma, speaking with one of the guards while holding that same chart in hand. Near the other wall she could see the bench with leather straps, as well as the table of hot coals in the corner with the lid drawn back.

  The guards at her side dragged her through the doorway, then propped her up on the bench. Going about their business without a word, they proceeded to secure her wrists. Her thoughts were strangely calm given the situation. Even knowing full well what was about to happen, all she could think about was how businesslike these humans were. They didn’t care about her pain, or even about her as a person at all.

  She looked around the room as guards made small talk, some laughing at private jokes as if she weren’t even there. I’m nothing to any of you. Less than nothing. As she lay there numb, barely aware, the fabric of her tunic was lifted from her back. A part of her was still terrified, but on the outside she seemed completely calm. Resigned to her fate, she closed her eyes and lowered her head. She simply had no more tears to shed.

  Kuuma glanced down at her briefly, his cold eyes detached, emotionless. Motioning to the guard behind her, he pointed to the table of hot coals. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

  * * *

  Bella reached up over her head, hands flat against the headboard in a long, satisfying stretch. This pampering was a dangerous thing to get used to. But after all that had happened to her, she refused to feel guilty about it. I’ll enjoy it for as long as I can. She smiled, hearing the chirping wheels of an approaching cart. She couldn’t say how many days she had been a guest of the spiritists, but she had grown plenty fond of that particular sound.

  The entrance curtain fluttered inward, a silver cart leading the way. Bella quickly closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was still asleep. “Oh, I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that,” said Rishima, leaving her cart near the foot of the bed. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she drew her fingers across Bella’s forehead, brushing her hair aside. “Because if you are still asleep, I’m afraid I’ll have no choice but to eat this all by myself.” She leaned down, her lips gently bushing the side of Bella’s neck. Eyes still closed, Bella rolled her head as she smiled, further exposing her neck. Her whole body tingled with each kiss, those soft lips moving up the side of her neck.

  Rishima stopped near her ear, giving her lobe a playful bite before whispering, “And then I would have to have my way with you while you sleep.” Bella’s eyes snapped wide open a
nd she began to laugh.

  “Or I suppose you could just eat with me first. Then later, I could have my way with you while you’re awake. It makes no difference to me.” After a shared laugh, Rishima nestled in under the covers. Cuddling beneath the blankets, they lay in each other’s arms for nearly an hour, laughing, talking, then kissing for long stretches at a time. Familiar, trusting, warm, it was as if they had known each other their whole lives. “Oh, I nearly forgot,” said Rishima, rolling from the bed to go bring the cart closer. But she stopped before reaching it, standing still while staring down at her feet.

  “Rishima?” said Bella, the smile melting from her face as she sensed something might be wrong.

  “I... I need to talk to you about something.” Rishima turned back, her hands nervously wringing the bottom of her shirt. “I am feeling pressure from the others. Talk has reached my ears, whispers that I have grown soft on my stance because of my feelings for you. Perhaps they are right, but I make no apologies for what my heart desires. That said, I do have an obligation to my people, just as you do to your people. We have nursed you back to health, clothed and fed you, and offered you a prominent position here in the tower. We can wait no longer. I need your answer.”

  Bella sighed. “Rishima I—”

  “Wait, please!” Rishima rushed to the side of the bed, dropping onto her knees and clasping Bella’s hands. “Please, let me finish before you answer,” she said quietly. “Before, I said that we needed you here, and that is still true. You alone are the one who can help us unite this region under one rule. Spiritist and human, united as one, would demonstrate a unified strength that would not be questioned. The threat against our world shows no discrimination. Its reign of terror does not differentiate between human, spiritist, or any other forms of life. But you and I together can—” She stopped, swallowing her remaining words, an attempt to subdue her growing excitement.

  “Of course that decision is yours alone to make. I shall not pressure you any more than I already have.” Rishima swallowed hard, glistening eyes with flecks of gold gazing pleadingly at Bella. “I always saw the strength you possessed, your leadership and spirit. I saw greatness before me, but there was one thing I hadn’t counted on. I didn’t know you would steal my heart.” She swiped her eye, purging a tear before it escaped. “I said if you refused my offer, my people would take you wherever you wanted to go. But I no longer wish that. I cannot make you rule by my side, but I am asking you—no, begging you—not to leave no matter what your decision. I will find another if need be. But please, just stay here with us.”