Page 83 of Auctioned for Her Blood
I turn into a darker passageway. Vampires can see in the dark, but maybe Psycho won’t expect me to go into a place where I can’t see. Keeping my fingers against the jagged stone wall, I question my plan.
I can barely make out the shape of my hand when I wave it in front of my face, but I keep moving forward, fingertips against the rough, cave-like shape of the space. As my eyes adjust, dim light from the passage behind me glints off facets of roughly hewn rock.
Sensing movement ahead, I stop.
Glancing around, I wish I could see, but instead I listen intently. Someone—or something—is moving. The footsteps are barely discernible, but I detect heavy breathing and, at erratic intervals, what sounds like a faint moan. It doesn’t sound human. Is it my imagination?
I spin back toward the entrance, and the faint light from the hall seems too bright now, making me squint, but as much as I want to be somewhere I can see, I know with certainty that danger lurks in the halls I just left, grave danger, and whatever danger might be in here remains to be seen.
Better to go with the devil Idon’tknow, than Psycho.
I turn away from the entrance, and something large crosses the space ahead of me. Moving from left to right, it’s like a shadow within the darkness. I can now perceive a slight amount of light glinting off the far end of the cave.
Or is my fear tricking me into seeing things? I shake as my recurring nightmare of being trapped in the darkness haunts me. In that horrible dream, I’m in a hole in the ground, not the cellar under the farmhouse, another one, smaller, and above me others scream in terror.
It’s not real, I tell myself. It’s only ever been a dream. I need to get myself together if I’m going to survive.
“Hello?” I whisper, and then wait, but hear no response, see no further movement.
My options narrowing and my desperation growing, I continue forward into the cave, keeping one hand on the wall, the other extended in front of me.
My extended hand strikes another surface, more rock, and I realize I’ve reached the back of the cave, or perhaps a bend in it. So I follow along the back wall, moving slowly, carefully, until the opening into the main passageway is no longer visible.
Sensing movement, I freeze and listen. “Hello? Is someone there?” My voice seems so small in the space, and my entire body shakes, both from fear and the cold. With each step on the freezing, damp stone, my bare feet sting and pains shoot up my legs to penetrate my hips and tighten my back. My fingers, scraping along the wall, are nearly numb.
I’m going to die of hypothermia, if whatever is in here doesn’t kill me first.
Something scrapes the stone floor, scratching, and I hear what sounds like a heavy exhale, almost a huff. It’s an animal in here with me, but maybe a calm voice will soothe it.
“Who’s there? Please. Don’t hurt me.” My voice sounds shaky now, my plea pathetic, but pathetic is all I have left, and each step forward is a bigger challenge, more painful than the last. I can only hope that whatever is in here takes pity on me—and that it isn’t hungry.
My extended hand strikes another wall. This part of the cave is shorter than the first. At least I think that it is. I don’t trust my perspective anymore and didn’t think to count my steps.
I turn the corner, continuing to explore the space. If I don’t find a blanket—or something—I’ll die. One step. Two. Three.
“Hello?” I call out softly.
Something, or someone, groans, then huffs, and I stop.
Two small lights appear ahead of me. Almost like eyes, but they’re too far apart and they can’t be eyes because there’s no light for the eyes to reflect. But my first guess is confirmed when the eyes blink, glowing when open like they are illuminated from within.
I scramble backwards, and my head strikes rock, the sharp impact followed by throbbing pain.
The bear!
Of course it’s the bear. I thought I was in an entirely different part of this prison, but it seems I wandered into the bear cave. The one place that Gracen claimed would be worse than facing Psycho.
I cower, wanting to run, but the pain in my head has momentarily scrambled my sense of direction. I’m not even sure which way I came in. And isn’t running the worst thing to do when confronting a bear? Or is that only wildcats? And do the rules of the wilderness apply down here?
The animal’s shape is clear now, and I detect a faint glow coming from an arched opening behind the beast as the gigantic shape lumbers toward me. Even down on all fours, the bear is nearly as tall as I am, and I watch in terror as it plods ahead, one massive shoulder shifting forward, then the other more haltingly, followed by a muffled moan.
This is how I die? As a bear snack?
His eyes, like a sea of gold sparks, rise, lifting higher and higher, now several feet above my head.
Not sure what’s real and what’s my imagination, I survey the shape of the beast, a shadow within the darkness, a massive animal nearly twice my height now he’s up on his hind legs.
His upper body lowers again, filling the space between us, and the bear howls when his front paws strike the stone.
