Chapter 23

‘ASHE!' Archie bellows, giving chase. ‘Just stop!'

I reach the stone stairs leading out of the cellar and sprint up them, taking them two at a time. Before I can reach the hall, his hand grips my ankle, and I fall forward, my front colliding with the stone steps and making me scream in pain.

‘Stop fucking running!' Archie orders.

I kick at his face, slamming the sole of my bare foot into his nose again and again. I wriggle free as Dorian leaps clear over us and lands at the top of the stairs, blocking the way out.

I get to my feet, struggling to breathe through the sheer panic as I look at the blood-soaked shadow master.

‘Please let me pass.'

‘We can't do that,' he tells me, slowly shaking his head.

His eyes drift past me. Archie is up but doesn't go to grab me. He's hastily wiping blood from his hands onto his trousers.

He wants it gone, so I can't use it. And there's no dirt here. Inches of stone separate me from the magic of the earth.

I grab his hand, feeling the blood that remains there, and I take the power to hurl Dorian backwards, clearing my path. I do the same to Archie, knocking him so he tumbles down, swearing as he collides with each step.

I fall into the hallway and scream as Dorian grabs the back of my neck.

‘LET ME GO!'

The power of the blood still on my hands sends him soaring one way and me the other, tossing me clear across the hall.

I slam into the wall and fall winded to the floor.

Ears ringing and unable to catch a breath, I force myself up, clasping my side. Dorian and Archie stand together, their fists clenched and their chests rising and falling at speed.

Looking at him, I spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor as tears spill freely down my cheeks.

‘You killed them.'

‘We can explain,' Archie tries. ‘Calm down and listen.'

Shaw steps out from the doorway and stands at their side. He's slick with blood, but there's no sign of the heart.

‘Don't let her touch the blood, Shaw,' Dorian says without looking away from me.

I hold my head high, clasping my side and struggling to hold my weight.

Shaw steps towards me.

‘STOP!' I hold out my hand and step back.

‘We're not going to hurt you,' he tells me, trying to keep his anger in check. ‘Just calm down.'

‘That's blood magic.' I look at the door. ‘That's evil magic, Shaw. What… why?'

More blood fills my mouth, and I spit it on the floor.

‘You're hurt,' Shaw says, making another attempt to step closer. ‘Please.'

The sound of laughter from the sombre party outside has them all looking even more on edge.

‘Just come with us, and we'll explain.' Archie's words are quiet, and he keeps glancing at the door leading outside.

They don't want the others to know.

Of course they don't. They're the last survivors of the Blood Coven's war. They hate blood magic. Just as they should. It's evil. Pure fucking evil. Any spell demanding a heart torn from a chest is as dark as they come.

‘Come down and we will-'

‘I'm not going back down there. Why have you done this?' I ask, my throat so strangled that I can't manage anything else.

‘We…' Shaw looks from the other guys and back to me. ‘We need you to do a spell. A single spell and then-'

‘No.'

‘We need you to-'

I cry. I hate that I do, but I start to sob. ‘My Father. Your friend. Thalia. You cut them. Took their parts.'

‘Listen to me, Pixie.'

‘My father screamed as you took his heart-'

‘Just listen.'

‘What the fuck have you done?!'

‘JUST FUCKING LISTEN TO ME, YOU GODDAMNED BLOOD BITCH!' he roars, unbridled anger spewing out of him. He takes a breath and tries to calm himself as I stand rigid and terrified. ‘It was a necessary sacrifice. We need you to do one fucking thing and then…'

‘Then?' I ask, holding in the sobs. ‘You'll let me go?'

He lets out a heavy breath and slowly shakes his head. ‘We can't let you go, Pixie.'

‘Kill me?' I whisper.

‘No. It's one spell. Then we can go back to normal.'

‘Normal? There is no normal after this.'

‘You're a blood witch, Pixie. This is why you're here. This spell will free us. It will-'

A door closes. From the direction of the kitchen, a horned creature I recognise from the party the other night looks at me.

‘She's a blood witch?' he asks, clearly having overheard our conversation.

Before he can call out to tell anyone else, dark shadows descend on him, smothering him as he screams in terror. He tries to fight them off as he's dragged to the cellar door, leaving a trail of blood on the floor. The cellar door slams shut, and Dorian exhales, the same shadows darkening his aura.

The shadows then start to stretch across the ground towards me.

Terror grips me, and I spin to grab the door. It opens, but Shaw's arm reaches over, and he slams it shut.

I go to scream. His hand covers my mouth, and he starts dragging me back towards the cellar. Away from escape. Away from the gentle laughter of those outside.

Before I can tap into the blood smothering his hand, the smell of lavender fills my nose. My eyes roll into the back of my head, and I fall limp.

‘You're not going anywhere, Pixie.'

I fooled myself that maybe I had made a place here. That I had worked into their good graces.

That perhaps I could even be happy.

But I always was an idiot.

I'm their prisoner. I always was, and I always will be.

I'm in a small stone room with no windows, no bed and only some candles up high that provide any light.

I sit, hating the gag in my mouth, which chafes into the corners of my lips.

I don't know how long ago I was put down here, but I woke up alone, cold and chained. The silver necklace around my neck tethers me to the wall, and my hands have been tied behind my back. I sit, staring at the closed door, just waiting for it to open.

Sometimes, I hear a muffled cry in the distance and wonder if it's Thalia. If she's still alive.

She must be terrified.

I shouldn't care, but I do.

When the door finally opens, I sit straight and fail to stop myself from trembling. The cold. The fear. The anger. It has me rattling from the inside.

It's the banshee. I try to tell her. I try so hard to persuade her to pull free the gag and hear what I have to say. But all she does is smile.

‘I tried to warn you,' she says. ‘Don't worry. I'll make sure my masters don't miss you too much. Once you do their spell, they will forget about you. And even if you do survive, there's no way you'll be the cute little mud witch they've come to enjoy playing with. No. You'll be a blood witch. Just like Neve and her sisters were. And they hate them more than they've ever hated anything in this world. They will look at you and be disgusted. And they will kill you, just as they killed them.' She reaches out and grabs the charms from my wrist. With a snap, the beads spill to the floor, scattering in all directions. ‘Sleep well,' she sneers.

She fades to smoke, and I watch the beads scatter.

Dorian's charms are broken.

Their protection is lost.

And the whispers begin.

Louder. And louder. And louder.

I scream and pull against the chain. I can't cover my ears. There's nowhere to hide.

A cold breath lands on my skin. A hand. So many hands.

And I scream as all the spirits trapped down here force me to see their pain. Their death.

Then, it goes silent. Slowly, I open my eyes.

The spirit of the woman, covered in cuts, smiles at me.

‘W-who are you?' I ask, feeling like I know her.

Her hand rests on mine.

Cut. Cut. Cut.

I feel them. Feel the blade dragging along my skin. I try to pull back, but I have nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

Cut. Cut. Cut!