Page 77 of Dirty Pleasures


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I checked Max.

He shrugged.

“Here we go.” I put the glass to my lips and began to drink. Raw bitterness hit my tongue. Then, there was this sweetness of berries abruptly eclipsed by an odd tang, something metallic, like. . .

Blood?

I stopped drinking and coughed.

Oh hell no.

Only half of the liquid was still in the glass.

I looked at her. “Did I just drink blood?”

Delphine stirred the pot. “Blood is a conduit of Ashe—life force. It bridges the physical and spiritual realms.”

I shrieked. “So, then that is a yes?”

She stopped stirring and glared at me. “I thought I already told you to quit with the questions.”

“I-I know, but. . .listen sometimes I’m going to ask—”

“Drink.”

I twisted my face in disgust and placed the glass to my lips, forcing myself to think about why I was in New Orleans in the first place.

Remember Kaz, Max, Paolo, and Emilio. I can’t have Lunita terrorizing them. It’s time to end this.

With that reminder, I drank the rest of the odd concoction.

When I finished, I set the empty glass on the table. “Can I at least ask what or who’s blood that was?”

“You don’t want to know.” Delphine set the spoon down and started whistling.

The taste of the odd potion lingered on my tongue.

This sense of euphoria began to wash over me as if I had inhaled a joint.

Hmmm.

I lifted my gaze to the ceiling.

The white surface was crafted from a solid sheet of hardwood, old yet impeccably maintained. There was no hint of dust or the tangled webs of long-forgotten spiders.

Pretty.

Then, suddenly, the tranquility shattered as the ceiling morphed into a horrifying theater of visions.

What is this?

Somehow the ceiling became an unfurling screen of nightmares.

Visions stormed across it in a rapid-fire succession. A man being slit open like a pig. Blood spilled down his neck. Next, a woman was shot point-blank in the back of her head. After that more terrifying images came. Over and over, cocks kept being hacked off and thrown to the ground.

A scream lodged in my throat.

I froze in pure horror, unable to speak or look away from the macabre reel of film on the ceiling.

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