Page 3 of Oath of Blood and Joy

Henry grabbed my neck hard, his calloused hand squeezing just enough to make breathing difficult. I couldn’t move, frozen in place like a mounted butterfly. She placed her cold palm on my forehead, the chill seeping through my skin like winter frost. I froze then I shook uncontrollably, my teeth chattering. Cold pain pulsed through me as if I put my finger in a vat of liquid nitrogen, every nerve ending screaming in protest. A strangled whimper escaped my lips despite my effort to stay silent.

Something dark and viscous seemed to ooze from her hand into my mind, spreading like ink in water, searching, probing. My vision clouded with black fog at the edges. Beneath the freezing pain, a pressure built inside my skull, as if my thoughts were being compressed into a tight ball. My lungs burned for air while my blood felt like it was crystallizing in my veins. Time stretched and warped—was it seconds or minutes she held me there? The room tilted and spun, the faces of Henry and Marsha blurring into grotesque masks.

She dropped her hand, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes.

I gasped desperately, my legs buckling beneath me. Only Henry’s cruel grip kept me from collapsing to the floor. The lingering cold remained, a memory of ice etched into my bones, while something new and foreign stirred in the recesses of my mind—something that hadn’t been there before.

“Yes, you have a great power, Joy.” A smile spread across her face, slow and predatory. “One that I will enjoy bringing out of you.”

She looked at Henry, eagerness flashing in her eyes like a predator spotting prey. “Where can I work on her?”

Henry tilted his head, his expression indifferent to my fate. “Maximo said to use the study.”

She flicked her hand dismissively, long fingers cutting through the air. “That will suffice... for the moment.” A hint of annoyance crossed her tight features, suggesting she would have preferred somewhere more sinister.

Henry marched me down the hallway, my feet moving automatically despite the dread weighing down each step. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as we approached the study door. He grabbed a chair from a small table with a harsh screech of wood against hardwood. “Sit.”

He tossed me into the chair with enough force to knock the wind from my lungs. I rubbed my arm where he had gripped me, wincing at the tender spots that throbbed with the memory of his fingers.

I glanced around desperately, seeking comfort in the familiar space. It had wall-to-wall bookshelves, a large desk and a table. Maximo rarely came in here, but it was my favorite place in this prison; where I could read books—the classics like Shakespeare, Steinbeck, even Stoker—and not think about what was going on. Now this sanctuary would be tainted by whatever Marsha planned to do.

Marsha tilted her head toward the door, her sharp chin jutting in command. “You can wait outside.” Her voice was soft but left no room for argument.

My throat went dry as I realized I’d be alone with her. The air in the room suddenly felt thinner, harder to breathe, as if Marsha’s presence consumed the oxygen around us. I fought to keep my expression neutral, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing my fear, even as my pulse raced beneath my skin.

Henry looked at me, a flicker of something in his gray eyes—perhaps pity?—crossing his stoic face, then up at her. He shrugged and stood outside the door, the soft click of it closing sounding as final as a coffin lid.

“Good.” Marsha’s lips curved into a smile that never reached her eyes as she turned to face me. She rolled up her sleeves with deliberate slowness, revealing pale, sinewy forearms. “Now that we’re alone, we can begin.”

“Marsha…”

She struck me with a stinging slap. Pain exploded across my cheek, the sting radiating outward like shattered glass.

“Silence. You will only talk when I ask you a question. Nothing more.” She loomed over me, her face inches from mine, close enough that I could see the merciless glint in her eyes.

I tasted copper as my tongue found the small split in my lip. She circled behind me, her footsteps deliberate and slow on the hardwood floor. I gripped the chair’s arms, trying to keep from sliding off into a puddle of whimpers.

Marsha began to murmur words in a language I didn’t understand, her voice taking on a rhythmic, almost musical quality that belied its menace. The air in the room grew heavy, pressing against my skin like an invisible weight.

“Everyone has darkness inside them,” she whispered near my ear, making me flinch. “Yours has been sleeping. Let’s wake it up.”

She pressed her palms against my temples, her fingers digging into my scalp. The cold returned, but this time it sank deeper, past skin and muscle, boring into my very core. I tried to scream but couldn’t—my jaw locked shut as if frozen.

Something stirred inside me, something that had been dormant. It felt like hands clawing up from my stomach, reaching for my throat. My vision darkened at the edges,the bookshelves blurring as shadows seemed to leak from the corners of the room.

“Umbra revelio, tenebris emergo,” Marsha chanted, her face growing darker. “Reveal what hides, bring forth what denies.”

The pain built like pressure in a sealed container—expanding, searching for escape. My skin was too tight, like it might split open at any moment. The shadows around the room writhed and twisted.

Then came the first tear—not from my eyes, but from within me. Something ripped, a barrier I never knew existed suddenly torn away. I convulsed in the chair, a silent scream trapped in my throat as the shadows from the corners of the room began to move toward me.

The darkness gathered around me, responding to my distress like a living thing, cold tendrils wrapping around my limbs. I sensed its pulse matching the frantic rhythm of my heart as it spread through me, flowing outward from my core to my fingertips with a shimmering tingle that made my hands tremble.

Marsha pinched my cheek hard, her nails digging into my skin like talons. “Now I know what you are.” Her eyes gleamed with triumph, a hunter who’d finally cornered her prey. “You’re an Unseelie.”

I panted. My mind struggled through the fog of pain. The word echoed in my skull—Unseelie, Unseelie—foreign yet somehow triggering a deep, unnamed dread. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I fought to control the trembling that ran through my body.

“You have the power to control shadows, and now you’re ours to control.” Her lips curled into a smile that revealed too many teeth. She looked at my hands with barely disguised greed, as though they were precious gems she’d just acquired.

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