Page 45 of Cry of Blood and Joy
CRACK.
The noise bounced off every surface, multiplying into deafening chaos. Agony tore through my hand and blazed a path up my arm. I screamed—a primal, savage sound I could barely believe came from my throat. The pain was so intense my vision went white around the edges, stars bursting behind my eyelids.
My little shadow streaming around me responded to my anguish, swimming through the air like living smoke. It writhed and twisted, trying desperately to protect me, but the overwhelming pain made it nearly impossible to focus. My connection to it felt frayed, like trying to hold water in cupped hands.
But the stubborn tendril of darkness managed to twist around Marsha’s wrist, tightening like a living rope until her bones creaked under the pressure. She gasped and released my mangled thumb, stumbling backward as my shadow squeezed harder, leaving angry red marks on her pale skin.
The brief respite let me gulp air into my burning lungs, but my thumb throbbed with each heartbeat, already swelling grotesquely. Tears I refused to shed burned behind my eyes as I fought to regain control of both my shadows and my composure.
She glared at me with pure venom, cradling her wrist against her chest where dark bruises were already blooming. The marksfrom my shadow’s grip stood out like ink stains, and I felt a savage satisfaction despite my torment.
She clutched her injured hand against her chest, eyes blazing with fury. “You bitch, you nearly broke it!”
Her free hand came flying toward my face in a vicious arc. My head snapped to the side as her palm connected with my cheek in a sharp crack that echoed through the chamber. Fire bloomed across my face, and I tasted copper as my teeth cut into the inside of my lip. Warm blood trickled down my chin, metallic and bitter.
“My, my, my.” Ari finally released his crushing grip on my hair. Strands came away in his fingers, leaving my scalp raw and tender where he’d torn at the roots. “You are powerful indeed.” His gaze swept over me like a collector appraising a rare specimen. “You were able to free your brother with just a thumb and one shadow. Unlocked those ancient manacles like they were children’s toys.”
Marsha smoothed her disheveled hair with trembling fingers, trying to regain her composure. But I could see the fear lurking beneath her anger—fear of what I might be capable of. Her lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. “I told you she’s powerful enough to unlock the portal.”
Portal?
Was she serious? What portal? My mind raced through possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. I looked frantically between them, searching their faces for answers while waves of pain and agony crashed over me in relentless succession.
My thumb jutted out at an unnatural angle, the bone clearly broken and the joint swollen to twice its normal size. Each throb of my pulse sent fire racing up my arm. Pain pulsed across my scalp where Ari had yanked my hair, the tender flesh stinging.My lip felt grotesquely swollen, the cut still bleeding steadily, and my left cheek burned where Marsha’s hand had left its mark.
But none of that physical pain compared to the ice-cold dread spreading through my chest. Whatever they wanted me to unlock, whatever portal they were talking about—I had a sinking feeling it was something that should never, ever be opened.
Ari’s cold gaze shifted to Marsha, his expression calculating and utterly devoid of mercy. “You need to bind that thumb. I don’t want her to escape again. We need her intact for what’s coming.”
Marsha tilted her head. “Fine. Hold her.”
I watched in horrified fascination as Ari’s fingernails began to lengthen and sharpen, transforming from human digits into gleaming talons that caught the dim light like polished obsidian. The sound they made as they extended was like knives being drawn from sheaths—a soft, metallic whisper that made my blood run cold.
“If you try to run...” His grip on my arms was iron-strong, fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to leave bruises. He leaned in close, breath hot against my ear, carrying the scent of old blood and something darker. “I’ll scratch you, and you won’t get very far. You’re not a vampire, little Unseelie. Dead demon blood can kill your kind—slowly, agonizingly, from the inside out.”
The threat hung in the air like poison. I panted in short, shallow breaths, my chest rising and falling rapidly as panic tried to claw its way up my throat. I wanted to fight, to run, but those razor-sharp talons pressed against my skin pinned me in place like a specimen under glass. If I moved an inch, I was dead.
Pain flooded through my broken thumb in waves, the slightest twitch sending fresh agony shooting up my arm. I forced myself to stay perfectly still, muscles locked in terrified paralysis.
Marsha moved with swift, practiced efficiency. Her fingers worked at the bracelet’s mechanism so quickly I barely registered what was happening—one moment my mangled thumb was free, the next it was trapped again, the bent-back digit screaming in protest as the metal clamped down around my swollen wrist.
She began muttering under her breath, words in a language that sounded like breaking glass and winter wind. The air around us grew thick and oppressive, crackling with malevolent energy that made my skin crawl.
Crimson sparks materialized from nowhere, swirling around the iron bracelets like tiny stars made of blood and fire. They danced and spiraled, growing brighter and more intense with each passing second. The metal began to glow with that same crimson light, and the temperature rose—first warm, then hot, then scorchingly, unbearably burning.
The iron seared into my skin with a hiss like bacon hitting a hot pan. The smell of burning flesh—my flesh—filled the air, acrid and nauseating. I couldn’t stop the scream that tore from my throat, raw and desperate, echoing off the stone walls in a symphony of suffering.
The anguish was beyond description—like having molten metal poured directly onto my skin. The bracelets welded themselves to my wrists, fusing with my flesh in a grotesque marriage of iron and bone. My teeth chattered as my body convulsed involuntarily, every nerve ending on fire.
“Don’t blame me,” Marsha said with cold indifference, examining her handiwork like an artist admiring a painting. “If you hadn’t tried to escape, I wouldn’t have had to burn the bracelets into your skin. Now they’re part of you.” Her smile was cruel and satisfied. “You won’t be able to move without ripping open your veins. One wrong twist, and you’ll bleed out in minutes.”
The smell of charred flesh lingered in the air, a constant reminder of my new reality. I was no longer just chained—I was branded, marked, turned into a living prison for my power.
Tears slipped down my cheeks in hot, silent rivulets, carving clean tracks through the grime and blood that stained my face. I couldn’t stop them—the torment, the fear, the overwhelming desperation had finally broken through the last of my defenses. Each drop felt like a small surrender, a piece of my spirit crumbling away as I remained trapped in this nightmare.
The salt stung the cut on my lip, a sharp reminder of Marsha’s vicious slap, but I barely noticed. My entire world had narrowed to the searing misery where the iron bracelets had fused with my flesh.
But through the haze of torture, I clung to one thought like a lifeline:Steve.
