Page 54 of Their Blood Rite

‘I will fight you,’ I warn them. ‘Anything you want to do to me, I won’t make it easy.’

‘That’s a step up from trying to kill yourself, I guess,’ Dorian says. ‘I’ll take that as a good sign.’ He stands and heads towards me, stopping close and offering me his wine. I don’t take it. I don’t trust him, his wine or anything else.

My head tilts back so I can meet those black eyes.

‘Take the wine. You’ll enjoy it.’

‘I’d rather not. If you want to drug me-’

‘Drug you?’ he laughs. ‘It’s wine. Nothing more.’

‘I’m not an idiot. Warm wine makes you slow and pliable. It-’

‘Warm wine?’ he cuts in, a deep frown forming on his face. ‘You mean Skullcap wine?’ His head tilts. ‘Who the fuck has given you Skullcap wine?’

‘I don’t know what it’s called, but I know it well enough to refuse it when I can.’

Dorian looks at the others, and all wear that same expression.

‘Skullcap?’ Archie repeats. ‘Isn’t that used to drug and rape by mercenaries and pimps?’ His head flicks up. ‘Who the fuck has been giving you Skullcap wine?’ he demands, his words harsh and angry for the first time. ‘That’s toxic. It can kill.’

‘Like you care,’ I mutter, clasping my hands together. ‘I will not be drinking your wine.’

‘It’s just wine,’ Dorian assures me.

I refuse to take it. ‘I don’t believe you.’

From his pocket, he pulls out what looks like a little doll. It has hair and little beads for the eyes. I feel its aura and shudder. Darkness emanates from it. Power too. Such power. He holds it in his fingers and stares at me.

‘Drink the wine,’ he repeats, gripping it.

My arm lifts the goblet. I shake, and wine spills over my fingers as I resist. But there is no resisting.

The goblet reaches my lips, and my body obeys, gulping down the cool wine until it's empty.

It’s actually delicious.

His grip eases, and I drop the cup.

‘That’s not possible.’ I shake my head. ‘Not possible!’

‘See? Just wine. I'm not a liar. You will never drink that other poison again,’ he snarls as if warning me. Like I chose to drink it. ‘When did you drink Skullcap? Who gave it to you and why?’

‘That’s a Poppet doll!’ I look at the doll as he tucks it into his pocket. I know the hair on its head is mine. That it’s stuffed with straw soaked in my blood. But that’s not possible. It can’tbe! ‘You’re…’ I take a shaky breath, almost too afraid to say the words. ‘You’re a shadow master?’

He offers me a little bow. Well, it is an achievement, I guess. In the stories, they’re demons that escape Hell and inhabit the body of a just dead witch. They control others with poppet dolls. Not only that, if they kill the one they make the doll for, their souls belong to them.

They’re dark creatures. Death incarnate, inhabiting flesh and becoming masters of those they murder.

Some call them demigods.

I didn’t even think they were real. Poppet dolls are myths. The kids in my village used to make them and leave them at the doorstep of whoever pissed them off earlier that day.

‘You’re a myth…’ I whisper, looking him up and down. ‘In the stories, you’re…’

‘I’m?’ he asks, his brow hitched a little.

‘Well, you’re a monster. Horns and a tail. Scales and bits of you rot and fall off.’ I wave my hand in his general direction. ‘Not…’

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