Page 58 of Cry of Blood and Joy
Rose reached out with her still-shaking hand, her palm bearing the angry red burns from her failed attempt. She clasped Alice’s arm, her green eyes blazing with desperate determination. “Yes, you are. You have to try.”
I took a step forward, and Alice instinctively pressed back against the wall. Her fear-scent triggered something primal in me. I flashed my fangs. “You’d better damn well try.”
“I suggest you try. I’m not sure Enzo can control himself,” Angelo said. His fangs extended fully, the soft light catching the razor-sharp points.
That was it. I was done with negotiations, done with hesitation, done with being patient while Joy suffered. I brushed past Alice with barely controlled violence, my shoulder deliberately clipping hers hard enough to make her stumble.
“My mate’s life is at stake,” I snarled, spinning to face her. My hands clenched into fists that could easily crush bone, my own fangs descended as the beast inside me strained against its leash. “You’d better damn well do it if you want to live.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Joy
A door creaked ominously from the other side of the cathedral, the sound haunting through the hollow sanctuary like breaking bones. The ancient hinges groaned in protest, cutting through the oppressive silence that had settled over us like a burial shroud. Terror paralyzed me as I waited for Marsha to emerge from the shadows, probably carrying some new instrument of torture to make us pay for her humiliation.
“Joy,” Zoe whispered, tears in her eyes. “I’m scared.” “I know. Me too,” I admitted quietly. “But we’re going to survive this. I promise.”
But instead of Marsha’s vengeful silhouette, one of the burly guards shuffled toward us, his heavy boots scraping against the cracked stone floor. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across his scarred face as he approached, carrying what looked like... Po’boy sandwiches wrapped in brown paper.
I blinked hard, wondering if exhaustion and fear were making me hallucinate. That was actually better than I’d thought it would be. I’d been expecting moldy bread crawling withinsects, or worse—something that would poison us slowly while Ari watched us suffer.
But where was Marsha, and more importantly, what had she done to the sandwiches? Knowing Marsha’s twisted creativity, she’d probably done something to the food. Maybe not enough to kill us outright—Ari needed me functional for his plan—but certainly enough to make us violently ill.
The guard’s movements were mechanical, dispassionate, as he first reached above my head to unlock the chains holding my arms overhead. The relief of lowering my aching arms was immediate, blood rushing back into my shoulders as I brought them down. He moved to Zoe next, releasing her arms with the same efficient detachment before moving toward me with surprising gentleness, his thick fingers working at the leather strap that had been cutting into my mouth for what felt like hours. The moment the gag came free, I coughed violently, my throat raw and burning. Saliva mixed with traces of blood spilled from my lips as I spat to the side, trying to clear the bitter taste of old leather and my own fear.
I moved my jaw back and forth experimentally, wincing as cramped muscles protested the movement. My face felt stiff and foreign, like I’d forgotten how to make normal expressions. The relief of being able to breathe freely through my mouth was overwhelming, even though I knew it was only temporary.
He moved to Zoe next, his movements efficient but not cruel as he loosened her leather binding. The moment her gag came free, she gasped and panted like someone surfacing from deep water, her chest heaving as she sucked in desperate lungfuls of the musty cathedral air.
“What is that?” Zoe asked breathlessly as she stared down at the sandwich with revulsion. The smell wafting from the brown paper was familiar yet wrong somehow—like seafood but withsomething wild and swampy underneath that made my nose wrinkle.
“Nutria,” the guard said with a shrug. “Big swamp rats. If you don’t eat it, you’re gonna be sorry. And don’t even think about trying to escape.”
The mention of nutria meat made my already queasy stomach lurch. The thought of eating something that had been crawling through bayou mud, combined with whatever vindictive additions Marsha might have included, was almost enough to make me gag again.
But the gnawing emptiness in my belly reminded me I hadn’t eaten in hours, and my body was running on nothing but adrenaline and terror. If I was going to have any chance of surviving whatever Ari had planned, I needed to keep my strength up.
The guard stepped back, crossing his thick arms as he watched us with the patient indifference of someone used to guarding prisoners. His message was clear: eat, or face consequences that would make nutria meat seem like a feast.
I rubbed my freed arms frantically, trying to restore the burning circulation to my numb fingers, but the cursed iron bracelets were still intact around my wrists. They pulsed with malevolent heat, binding my shadows and searing my flesh like red-hot manacles forged in hell itself. The putrid smell of my own burned skin joined the musty cathedral air, a constant reminder of my helplessness.
Zoe stared at the sandwich as if it were a coiled cottonmouth ready to strike, her green eyes wide with revulsion and growing panic. Her hands trembled violently as she pressed them against the cold stone floor. “I’m not going to eat a rat,” she whispered, her voice cracking with barely contained hysteria.
“Then I’m going to have to report your insubordination to Marsha.” The guard uncrossed his thick arms with deliberateslowness, then rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck in the oppressive silence.
He gave us a mischievous grin that revealed yellowed, crooked teeth, his eyes glittering with sadistic anticipation like he was hoping we’d refuse so he could watch Marsha tear us apart piece by piece.
My heartbeat spiked wildly as images of Marsha’s vindictive creativity flashed through my mind. The crashes and screams still echoing from the other room painted a vivid picture of what happened to those who crossed her.
“No, we’ll eat it. I promise.” I grabbed the Po’boy with shaking hands, the greasy brown paper crinkling under my desperate grip. The smell hit me immediately—rank, swampy, like rotting vegetation mixed with something that had died in stagnant water. Revulsion hit me violently, bile rising in my throat, but I forced it down. “Just... just give us a second.”
“Joy, are you serious?” Tears were already forming in Zoe’s eyes, her chest rising and falling in rapid, panicked breaths.
“Think about what she’ll do to us if we don’t,” I hissed urgently, leaning as close to her as my restraints would allow. The iron bracelets dug deeper into my raw flesh with the movement, shooting burning pain up my arms. “We have to survive this. We have to.”
I forced myself to take a bite, the sandwich collapsing slightly under the pressure of my teeth. The taste exploded across my tongue—greasy, gamey meat that tasted like mud and decay with what might have been spoiled mayonnaise. The texture was rubbery and stringy, and I had to fight every instinct not to immediately spit it out. I chewed mechanically, swallowing hard as my stomach rebelled against the foul mixture.
“That’s a good girl,” the guard purred with sick satisfaction, watching my struggle with obvious enjoyment. “I’ll tell Marsha one of you is following the rules. Too bad about the other one...”
