Page 82 of House of Crimson Kisses
I’m running after them and shouting back that it’s not me. I wouldn’t do this. But they’re leading me through a maze of streets and alleys. And none of it looks like my Sangui City.
Everything is derelict and broken. Bricks scatter the ground. The streets are narrow and dark. Everything smells like stagnant water and faeces. Windows are cracked or smashed. A layer of filth and grime covers the doors and curtains.
There are no children. Where are all the children?
The deeper I run into the city, the more lost I become. This isn’t my city. I didn’t do this.
Did I?
But the voices fill my head even as I lose sight of their figures. I hit a dead end, double back on myself only to reach another dead end.
Where am I? Is this really what will happen if I win? If I take over the city?
Am I just the monster they all think I am?
I wanted to protect the city, make it a space where everyone was welcome. What happened to me to destroy the thing I wanted to call home?
A tear falls down my cheek. I wipe it away as a piece of my heart wipes away with it.
Perhaps I should bow out now. Perhaps I shouldn’t run this city, maybe I can’t make it a better place after all.
I turn and catch sight of myself in a shard of broken mirror. My face is twisted and aged. The only signs of life are my blood-red eyes staring back at me. They burn hot and soulless. My fangs have elongated and sharpened to razor points.
I am a monster. That’s all I ever was. All I’ll ever be.
The ghostly figure who sent me here reappears at the end of the alley.
“You,” I snarl. Ready for him this time.
“You did this,” the faceless hood says.
“I did...” But my words falter as I catch my reflection in my periphery and it falters. For one brief moment, I see me the way Red sees me—not with eyes the colour of death, but the colour of love and life.
And that’s when I remember. None of this is real. This is all just a test. One designed to try to break me. I run my fingers along the cobbles and through a grimy puddle. They come away wet.
A test that feels real. Perhaps in another universe this is what I did.
But I am better than this.
“No,” I say, standing. “I did not.”
The world around me dissolves and when it reforms, I’m in my bedroom. A figure lays in the shadows of my four-poster bed, a muslin layer shrouding them from view.
But I know that body. I know that figure.
It’s Red.
“Did you win? Are we out of the spirit trial?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. “Come here.”
So I do. I push the curtain aside and climb onto the bed. She’s naked. Splayed ready for me to take her.
She beckons me forward with the curl of her index finger.
I climb up the bed until I am millimetres from her lips. “Gods, I’ve missed you,” I breathe.
She brushes her lips against mine.
