Page 97 of Their Blood Rite

Days pass in a blur of sleep, food, washing, and more sleep. I’m in a loop, repeating the most basic necessities to live. I have no wants or needs beyond that. No desire to stay awake a second longer than necessary. They check on me occasionally, ensuring I’m still breathing and forcing me to eat and drink. They talk in murmurs about things I’m not interested enough to hear and each time I find myself in a nightmare, Shaw’s voice whispers to me, and I’m left with nothing but the sea by a pristine beach.

‘Thank you,’ I tell him as I sit in the sand, watching the endless waves gently break on the shore.

‘You’re welcome, Pixie,’ he replies, his voice drifting on the gentle breeze. ‘Wake up soon. It’s somewhat dull without you.’

The waves reach my toes, and I smile.

My captor, who can turn men mad as he walks through their dreams… giving me my own little slice of heaven.

Washed, dressed and fed, I’m led downstairs to fulfil my part of the bargain I struck.

Speak to the dead in exchange for answering a question.

I should negotiate for more answers next time. It will take me years to find anything out at this rate.

The castle is quiet, and as the banshee leads me to wherever I’m being summoned, she refuses even to acknowledge me.

She stops at the same door that leads down to the dank cellar they made me find my kindred in. She opens up the heavy metal door. Then she just stands there.

‘I go down?’

She rolls her eyes with dramatic effect and tuts loudly.

Take that as a yes.

I head down, and she slams the heavy door shut behind me.

‘Fucking bitch,’ I hiss, feeling my way down the darkened passage.

A long corridor lies at the base of the stairs, lined with steel doors sealed shut with heavy locks. Light floods the hall as a door opens at the far end.

‘There you are,’ Archie grins. ‘Come on. It’s cold and creepy down here.’

‘Then why don’t we do this upstairs in the sunshine?’

‘Because we can’t have anyone knowing what you are, and if you go all psycho, we already have you in a cell, silly.’

Oh.

Great.

Inside, the body of the murdered earth witch lies naked on a slab. There are no windows and only one door, which, as soon as I step inside, all three guys block as if I’m about to make a break for it. The dead man’s skin is like melted wax. His eyeballs are gone. His mouth is open, and a black, shrivelled tongue sticks out.

The stench of burnt fat is disgusting.

I stand by his head.

‘What do I do?’ I ask. ‘And what the fuck are they doing here?’ I gesture to the basket of rats by my feet.

‘Well, you need blood and a life force to drain in order to make your blood magic work. The same as you need to be touching the natural earth to access earth magic.’ Dorian nods to the basket. ‘It was a toss-up between rats, rabbits or a deer. We thought you wouldn’t feel so bad about rats.’

‘You think I feel happy that I have to kill a load of rats to talk to a man I killed?’ I ask, unsure if he’s being a sarcastic arse or just an insensitive twat.

He simply shrugs.

Insensitive twat it is.

‘I’m not killing a rat.’

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