Page 149 of Their Blood Rite

When the door finally opens, I sit straight and fail to stop myself from trembling. The cold. The fear. The anger. It has me rattling from the inside.

It’s the banshee. I try to tell her. I try so hard to persuade her to pull free the gag and hear what I have to say. But all she does is smile.

‘I tried to warn you,’ she says. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure my masters don’t miss you too much. Once you do their spell, they will forget about you. And even if you do survive, there’s no way you’ll be the cute little mud witch they’ve come to enjoy playing with. No. You’ll be a blood witch. Just like Neve and her sisters were. And they hate them more than they’ve ever hated anything in this world. They will look at you and be disgusted. And they will kill you, just as they killed them.’ She reaches out and grabs the charms from my wrist. With a snap, the beads spill to the floor, scattering in all directions. ‘Sleep well,’ she sneers.

She fades to smoke, and I watch the beads scatter.

Dorian’s charms are broken.

Their protection is lost.

And the whispers begin.

Louder. And louder. And louder.

I scream and pull against the chain. I can’t cover my ears. There’s nowhere to hide.

A cold breath lands on my skin. A hand. So many hands.

And I scream as all the spirits trapped down here force me to see their pain. Their death.

Then, it goes silent. Slowly, I open my eyes.

The spirit of the woman, covered in cuts, smiles at me.

‘W-who are you?’ I ask, feeling like I know her.

Her hand rests on mine.

Cut. Cut. Cut.

I feel them. Feel the blade dragging along my skin. I try to pull back, but I have nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

Cut. Cut. Cut!

Chapter 24

‘Her charms are broken.’ I hear Dorian gathering up the beads spilt across the floor. ‘She’s been unprotected all night down here.’

‘They killed me. Cut me up and tore me apart.’

‘What did you say, Pixie?’ Shaw asks, lowering my gag and giving me a shake.

I lift my head. It’s as though I’m looking through water. Everything is distorted and blurred. Despite that, I see how Shaw visibly recoils at seeing my eyes.

‘Cut. Cut. Cut.’The words come from my mouth, but they’re not mine and not in my voice. Neither is the deranged laugh.

The next thing I know, his hand is around my throat.

Inside, I’m afraid. But I laugh. It’s such a laugh. One to have the blood in your veins run cold. It’s full of cruelty and wickedness.

‘Get the fuck out of her!’ he snarls, slamming my head into the wall. ‘You evil little cunt.’

Another whack, and everything shifts back into focus.

The sliced-up spirit faces the wall, naked and covered in cuts.

Dorian pushes Shaw aside and pulls my face away, forcing me to look at him.

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