Page 50 of Fangs & Freaks
I lean back slightly, letting my gaze sweep over both of them as I add, “And before you ask why I don’t just shadow in and out to grab Vienna, let me spell it out for you. That’s not foolproof. People survive fires. They crawl out, scarred but alive, and that’s not the kind of ending I’m going for here.”
Blackwell’s laughter dies down as he catches the edge in my voice, the weight of what I’m saying sinking in. “This isn’t just about getting Vienna out. This is the finale—the moment we end this for good. I want it to be dramatic and bloody. I want every second of it seared into their memories, intomymemory. So we’re doing it my way.”
For a moment, there’s silence, the weight of my words pressing down on all of us. Then Warrick crosses his arms and mutters something under his breath, but he doesn’t argue further. Because he knows, as well as I do, that this isn’t just about strategy—it’s personal.
“I’m taking the front,” Blackwell announces boldly, his tone casual but edged with anticipation. “I’ve got some energy to burn, and a good fight sounds like the perfect outlet.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue. I can’t disagree with him. “Fine. Go ahead and make a scene. Devil knows subtlety was never your strong suit.”
Blackwell smirks, already moving toward the front of the church, but before disappearing around the side, he sticks his head back. “Subtlety is overrated.”
Warrick scoffs and runs his hand through his dark hair, his sharp gaze sweeping over the left side of the church. “I’ll take this way,” he says, jerking his chin toward the shadowed path. “Don’t wait up.”
He’s off before I can even reply, leaving me standing in the faint moonlight, alone. “Right it is,” I mutter to myself, my boots crunching softly against the small rocks making my way up the walkway as I veer off around the corner, into the darkness. I make sure to shift to my non-Bloody Mary form, to not draw attention if I encounter anyone along the way.
The oppressive presence of the church presses down on me, bringing memories of the night I died to the forefront of my mind. It’s one of the reasons I never come here—the weight of the memories. My senses are on high alert, as I move along the side of the building to the entrance. The faint sound of muffled voices and footsteps reaches my ears as I close in on the door, but it's not anything I can’t handle on my own.
The door’s ajar, and I shake my head. They are so confident in their security they don’t even bother to lock their doors, even with a prisoner on the premises. The voices become fainter, letting me know they’re moving further away, and I take advantage of the moment to carefully open the door a little wider, giving me the space I need to slip inside.
I move quickly, knowing time is of the essence. My steps are quiet as I spot a guard, his attention focused on his phone, unaware of my presence. I move swiftly, my hands slipping around his face, covering his mouth as I break his neck. Anyother time I’d let his body fall to the floor, but this time, I cradle his body, gently guiding it to the floor.
I could hide his body, but with Warrick and Blackwell present, I know we’ll be discovered soon, so hiding it is unnecessary; that time could be used to find Vienna.
As I round the corner, checking first to see if anyone’s coming, my eyes land on a crudely drawn sign plastered to the wall ahead. The arrow, pointing down the hallway, looks like a sketched penis, perched just above the wordDungeonscrawled in bold, jagged letters. I raise an eyebrow, taking a moment to pause and appraise the artwork. “Classy,” I mumble, the word dripping with sarcasm.
I don’t normally wield weapons, only needing the powers that Lilith beseeched upon me, but tonight I need to shed blood the old-fashioned way. I pull the knife from the sheath on my thigh, ready to take out any foe I encounter along the way.
I round the corner, running into a brick wall. The fucker lets out a boisterous laugh, his putrid breath wrapping around me, causing my stomach to churn.
“What do we have here?”
How does he not know who I am? Have I been so lenient over the years that they don’t tell their members what they did? Who they are? What their penance is? Have the tales of their demise not been shared? Everyone here should know damn well who I am. The thought is a cold dagger to my pride, but I push it aside for now.
“No one,” I mumble, avoiding looking him in the eye, putting on the persona of the meek female.
“Oh, I think you are someone. In fact, you’re going to be the bitch on her knees, sucking my cock.” He takes hold of my hair, forcing me down to the floor, and I let him think he’s in control, let him think he has the upper hand as I go to my knees, keepingmy knife hidden from his view. “Are you going to be my good little cum dumpster, baby?”
“Yes, I am,” I say sickeningly sweetly, already wanting to puke.
He reaches for his pants, undoing them, then reaches in, pulling out his cock and I want to gag. Come on, it’s the twenty-first century, hasn’t the man heard of manscaping? He’s got a fucking forest growing in his pants. He expects me, or any woman for that matter, to put her mouth on his micro penis.
“Open up, bitch, and take my mammoth cock,” he orders, and I hold back my laughter. Seriously, is this man delusional? Do I need to book a room at the mental hospital and get him on medication?
I play the part, taking his nasty member in one hand and grip my blade tightly with the other. I peer up at him, batting my eyes, watching him eat that shit up just like all men do. “You’re so fucking big,” I mock gasp. “I don’t know if I can take it all in.”
“You can and you will and I don’t want your fucking teeth touching it or I’ll bust them out of your mouth,” he snarls.
“Oh, my teeth won’t draw one ounce of blood,” I tell him, the edges of my mouth curling up in a sinister smile.
I let my magic seep out, giving him the illusion of his cock being sucked. His head falls back against the wall, his eyes closing as he gives over all of his control to me. His mistake, I win. I use his error in judgement to my advantage as I place the blade against the base of his shaft and use my magic to push it through, severing his cock. His scream echoes through the empty hallway as blood spurts from the wound.
“What the hell did you do, bitch?” he shrieks as he grasps his non-existent cock, trying to control the bleeding.
“I didn’t bite. But it’s time for me to go.” I don’t give him another look as I head down the hallway.
More guards cross my path, but they succumb just as quickly, their lifeless bodies leaving a trail behind me, marking my path for anyone who should choose to follow me. The sound of my boots echoes faintly against the stone floor as I press forward toward my destination, my determination to find Vienna unwavering.
I continue, ascending a dark, spiraling staircase of weathered stone, each step worn smooth by the passage of countless years. At the top, another sign, hastily scrawled in crude lettering, points toward the dungeons. A twisted arrow beneath the word “Dungeon” is drawn with careless strokes, as though mocking the very idea of punishment. I sneer at the sign but don't pause. It’s all I need to know.
