Page 79 of House of Crimson Kisses
I reach to take it, but the monk pulls it away and points to my current clothing.
You have got to be kidding me.I clench my jaw but strip off anyway, snatching the cloak out of the monk’s hand a little too aggressively. Dahlia is as unhappy about the situation as I am and snatches her cloak harder than I do. Lincoln, Talulla and Keir quietly do as they’re told. Gabriel cops an eyeful of Keir while he’s changing but slips his arms into the cloak on request.
Once we’re all de-clothed and fully robed, the monk closest to the chamber door opens it. There’s a hiss as the door creaks open, and white mist rolls out of the room beyond.
“What the hell?” Xavier says.
Sadie clicks her finger to make him look at her, and she signs, “If you weren’t so ignorant, you’d know they keep the Chamber of Blood at a low temperature to help with the preservation of the witch-god’s blood.”
“I see,” he says.
But Sadie isn’t finished berating him and raises her hands to continue. “It’s also why you’re asked to strip and wear the cloak. It’s fur-lined and imbued with the tiniest hint of magic to retain heat. The magic is weak, so it only works if it’s next to the skin.”
The monk guiding her nudges her. She pouts with her mouth, but the glare she gives him is vicious. Sadie is normally in charge as the head of the church, so to be bossed around by her underlings must sting.
We’re led to our respective stone beds, the same ones we saw in our visions. Only this time there’s an obsidian basin at the head of each bed filled with a shimmering silver liquid.
One of the monks heads to the enormous glass vial containing the blood from the witch-god, our holy Mother of Blood. He holds a bowl under a faucet attached to the bottom of the vial and twists the handle, allowing exactly nine drops to fall into the bowl he holds.
Then he makes his way around the room, using a syringe to draw up a single droplet of blood and deposit it in each obsidian basin. Sadie’s is first. The liquid hisses and turns black. Dahlia next, then Lincoln. The monk makes his way around until he’s stood in front of me and dropping the last bead of blood into my basin.
The Chief appears beside Mother. Together they enter the circle of stone beds.
“Sit,” Mother says, her voice barely above a whisper.
In unison, all nine of us take our positions, sitting on our beds facing our monks. The blood monks tilt the basins, pouring the dark gloopy concoction into a chalice.
The beating of the four hunters’ hearts ratchets up a notch. I’m sure my siblings can hear it. It thuds like an inevitable countdown.
Beat. Five.
Beat. Four.
Beat. Three.
Beat. Two.
Beat. One.
The monks raise the chalices to our lips. I glance at Red one last time.
Our eyes lock. She wears the same wide-eyed, pinched look I do.
I wonder if she wishes the same thing I do.
I wish I could tell her it will be all right. That we will get through this together. But I can’t because we’re doing this alone, and for the first time since these trials started, I can’t help or support her. I can’t protect her.
I want to tell her I love her, no matter what. And last, I wish those words were on her lips for me, too.
But they’re not.
The monk tips the chalice up to my lips, and I tear my gaze away from her, swallowing the strange liquid.
It tastes like starlight and gold. Like the glistening of the moonlight on the ocean surface, and everywhere it touches, it tingles.
It slides down my throat, and as it does, I have a strange, disconnecting feeling as my body lowers to the stone bed, but I stay where I am.
I blink, and the room is gone. Instead, I’m in an ethereal landscape where the boundaries between reality and dreams blur.
