Page 60 of The Cursed Chalice
“You disgust me.”
Elias fixes his grey shirt and stoops to face level with me. Years ago, I thought he looked like young Tom Cruise. How could I have been so blind?
“I disgust you? Well, that makes me sad. I will have to fix that.” Elias holds on to my cheeks and shoves his tongue into my mouth. I cough when he lets go.
And then Michelle laughs. A soft, mocking laugh that makes my blood crawl.
A tear rolls out of the corner of my eye. “Mich, why?”
“Oh, no. ‘Mich, why’?” Michelle says as she clutches her neck and places her hand on her forehead.
“Don’t be so surprised, cousin.” She drops her arms and steps beside Elias. “You really thought I was going to protect you. Sweet, nice Raya, so naïve as always.”
I stare at her; my body feels even heavier than before.
Michelle leans into Elias’s side, and he kisses her on her forehead, as if he’s been doing that for years. It’s so natural. “I like winners, and Elias knows how to win.”
Elias smirks down at her. “My clever rat. I kept her close to you for years. She kept me informed, like a girlfriend should.”
Did he just call her a rat? Michelle stoops to the side of my bed. “Now, Elias wants to get some things done, so I am going to get out of his way. Nice seeing you.”
Michelle stands up, gives Elias a quick kiss, and walks out of the room.
“I’m going to fuck you. Then I will let my men take turns.” Elias says as he loosens his belt. Every part of me is dead, and all I can scream is Ares’s name.
“Pass me the tranquilizer that will put her to sleep,” Elias shouts. I feel the needle press into my skin. Tears run down my eyes. “Ares…” I whisper his name like a prayer.
ARES
Asphalt meets my boots. The air is still heavy with dust, oil and sweat. There are concrete columns surrounding me and no cars here. A door opens, and a man comes out with a gun strap hanging off his shoulders. I don’t allow him to raise his gun. His chest caves over my fist; his scream is drowned out by his bone snapping. I wiggle my fingers as my fist reappears through his back.
I raise him high in the air. “I am looking for a girl and a woman.”
The corpse dangling on my hand doesn’t respond. I shake him away, sending him flying into a column.
I feel hot, like lava is floating in my veins.
“Find them, Ares.”My scar twitches.
“I will wreak havoc in the process.” I march down the dark stairway. I stop when I see some men packing guns into a box.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Death.” I always find it funny that mortals think they can best a god. In this case, it’s the God of War. My soul cries out for their death to be slow and painful. Bullets whiz by me, some stopping short, melting, and dropping like metallic puddles on the floor.
I move through them like wildfire. With every strike I make, I invite death. Throats are torn open, skulls crack like broken glassware, and bones snap under my touch. One man tries to run by me, and I grip his jaw, ripping it clean from his face.
“Please, sir,” one soldier pleads as he rests his gun in front of him, his face pressing to the floor.
I step on his head, and he begins to flail and scream. I dip my hands in my pockets.
“I am looking for a girl and a woman.”
The fool laughs like my foot wasn’t on his head. “Is that what you want? No problem. What’s your type?” His question sickens me. There is a cracking sound under my shoes. His screams are drowned out by my rage. When my feet finally touch the ground again, I shake them, and pieces of his brain and bone splat around the floor.
“Where are they?” I roar. Nothing about that sounded human. My voice shakes the walls of the bunkers.
The surrounding air thickens with the scent of war. I hear heavy boots coming down the staircase. I know the rhythm of that walk. My scar burns; warriors of old are approaching. I clap my hands together, pulling them apart slowly to reveal my broadsword.
