Page 150 of Their Blood Rite

‘Don’t look at her. Look at me.’

‘Who is she?’ I manage, my focus glued to her. ‘She was inside me.’

‘Look. At. Me.’ His hold on my chin is absolute. I meet his gaze. ‘Of all the spirits you can channel, do not channel her.’

‘Can you fix the charms?’ Archie asks, lingering by the door as he gathers the beads nearby. He keeps staring at me as if I’m about to explode. ‘I don’t fancy seeing those eyes looking back at me again. Very keen to keep Pixie behind the reins.’

Dorian releases me and steps away to enchant his talismans. Shaw places down a stool and sits opposite me.

My gaze keeps drifting to the many spirits in the cell. None so much as the naked woman covered in cuts.

Dorian places his charms on my wrist and steps back.

The spirits fade. But the memories of their suffering have firmly taken root, settling with my own. I ache all over. My soul fucking hurts from my night in this hell hole.

‘Better?’ Shaw asks.

Better? Fucking better?

‘We brought you some food.’ Archie places a plate in front of me.

I kick it away.

‘Don’t act like a child,’ Archie sighs, looking at the spilt grapes and bread.

‘What happened to your charms?’ Dorian asks. ‘All night with no protection, you must have seen-’

‘Let me out.’

‘What happened to your charms?’ Shaw says firmly.

‘Your banshee. She broke them.’

‘If the banshee broke your charms, then she’ll be punished.’

‘If?’ I repeat hatefully, trying hard not to scream. ‘You thinkI’mlying?’

‘She’ll be punished,’ he assures me. ‘It won’t happen again.’

‘That spirit. The woman. You know her,’ I accuse through a clenched jaw.

I wish I could break free and rip their fucking throats out.

‘Your charms will protect you,’ Shaw insists.

So many questions. No answers. Just orders and chains. Maybe if I’m calm. Sweet and pathetic. Perhaps then they’ll take pity on me and let me out.

‘Can I have some warmer clothes? I’m freezing.’ My bare legs and feet are numb, and my muscles ache from shivering.

‘Of course,’ Shaw agrees. ‘Here.’ He takes off his coat and rests it over my legs. I move away when he goes to sweep my hair from my face. He retakes his seat. ‘I’ll get you some proper clothes in a moment. But first, we need to talk.’

‘Can we talk upstairs?’ I try.

‘You’ll run.’ His brow furrows as I shift. ‘Where are you hurt?’ He waits for my answer.

I nod to my side, and Archie kneels to lift my shirt. My skin is clear. Until he removes the glamour.

‘Shit,’ he winces, running his fingers over my ribs. ‘Can you breathe properly?’

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