Page 29 of Haunt

Penelope tracks the woman, her chest stilling. I know she’s holding her breath. Waiting to see what is happening, what I’ll do.

I would never betray you.

I am lovesick.

Only for you.

I will hurt you, but not like that.

Never like that.

The woman’s hands come up in the space between us, fingers finding my naked torso, she plants her palms over my chest. Her breathing is shallow, her heart racing, not from fear, but drugs, and I wish I didn’t have to look at her at all. But I drag my gaze from Penelope, the chains clinking as I do, but she doesn’t speak.

My voice low, words deep but quiet, I ask, “Do you come here tonight of your own free will?”

“I do,” the woman speaks, soft, lyrical, it is a hum that infects my veins, my skin pebbling, heart hammering.

Begin.

I lick my lips. Lift my gaze to the man stepping forward on my left, silent on his feet. Extending his hands, palms face up, open in offering, head bowed. A silver dagger rests upon black cloth, gleaming in the candlelight, The Obsidian symbol in its hilt.

Fingers curling around the blade, the cold metal slicing into my palm, the backs of my fingers. I tighten my fist, feel the sting as it sinks into my skin and then I unsheathe it from the inside of my left hand in one quick pull. It burns as I drag it out, but I don’t have time to think about it, before plunging it into the woman’s chest. Her gasp of air hits me in the face at the same time a splay of blood splatters across my bare chest. My ears buzz with the deep chorus of chanting, the slow, heavy stomps of feet.

“CRUOR ET OSSUM.”

“CRUOR ET OSSUM.”

“CRUOR ET OSSUM.”

-Blood and bone-

I drive the dagger down the valley of her breasts, the blade slicing through without too much effort. I cut her down to her navel before she falls back, her body slamming into the stone floor with a thud. I follow her down, knees either side of her hips. Her head turned to one side, chest still moving with the last of her breaths. I stare at her staring at me, dark eyes flicked down, blindfold having slipped up. The brown bleeding away as black takes over, my fingers inside her chest now.

I think of who is above, staring down, watching me butcher this sacrifice like a monster. But this is all forher.

My Little Lamb.

Penelope.

I don’t ever want this to be you.

That’s what keeps my focus.

My hands push further inside the hot cavern of her torso, blood sluicing down the sides of her open chest as I flex her ribcage, my fingers curled in its underside. Sweat beads across my brow and I pull my hands free. Placing them, one atop the other, over the right side of her ribcage. I bear down, the bones bending as I rock my body weight on my knees, hovering over her chest, before I hear them finally start snapping beneath my weight.

I reach inside, using the backs of my hands to force the cracked bone and cartilage out of the way. My fingers find her heart, wrists and lower forearms disappearing inside her chest as I cup it between my palms. Pulling hard, I feel it slowly start to tug free, but I want to get this done so I can get my girl down.

Finally, struggling, I manage to rip it free. The organ much heavier than I expected in the palms of my large hands. A velvet-lined, wooden box sits open at my side, ready to accept my offering. I place it inside, hot blood running down my forearms, pooling in the ditches of my elbows. I glance up. Staring at her, wide eyes glistening, lips parted, arms trembling, she licks her lips as I wipe my face over my shoulder. Trying to clear some of the blood splatter, smearing it across my cheek.

The chants continue,cruor et ossum, cruor et ossum,but I barely even hear them anymore, over the drumming of my own heart.

Finally.

Finally, finally, finally.

She’s going to be mine.

But there’s one last thing to find.

---