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Reaper growled, glaring at him, lips pressed together, eyes glowing red. That warm tingle between my legs returned, and I chastised myself for it.
“Are you serious?” I whined.
“A sacrifice must be sacrificial,” explained the spirit.
“Asshole,” I murmured, holding my hand out for Reaper to give the dagger back. His expression seemed to communicate empathy, but his eyes also pulsed with a fierceness. He was formidable, but when our gazes met, there was a glint of softness, somehow. But I couldn’t believe my own interpretation.
A new vision took hold, the white haze filling my line of sight:
A primal heat, our bodies writhing, grunting, grasping. Reaper, manic, barking fierce demands, shoving me around, using me as his plaything. Me, whimpering submissively, going limp, crying, but eyes glazed in pure hedonistic lust.
I pulled in a sharp breath, stumbling backward, and he grasped my elbow to steady me, but I pulled away. Whether that was a vision ofbetrayal or not, it was not what I wanted. The concern on his face contrasted so deeply with what I’d just seen him doing to me.
“You okay?” he asked.
How soon was this going to happen? How could I defend myself? Was there any point? It was going to happen, and I had to be prepared. It was the only response that made sense. I couldn’t change the future; I could only be ready for it. Willing my runaway heart to slow, I nodded. “Fine.”
Running my hand down my torso to straighten my T-shirt, I reminded myself of the next grim task. Removing my victim’s head. But as I pressed the blade into the body’s neck, trying to emotionally distance myself from the reality of what I was doing, I already knew what the next challenge would be.
When we finally got past those doors into the room beyond. Reaper would have his way with me, I would fight him off, and I would fail. But worst of all, I was going to enjoy it. Would he end me there and move on? Was there any point fighting it?
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Devil’s Dance
Tess
Pressing the blade intodead, cooling flesh, I sawed back and forth. My stomach turned. Blood welled up through the perforation at first, then flowed to the floor. A spurt of crimson shot out in all directions, speckling my face, Reaper, the walls, and the carpet. I gritted my teeth. “This better be fucking worth it,” I mumbled. Hitting cartilage, a stronger wave of nausea hit. I pushed down harder, sawing through a bit more flesh, but the knife wasn’t making progress anymore. I grunted in frustration.
Reaper’s voice came through, cold and gentle. Soothing and temperate. “Find the spot between the vertebrae, monstre.” He was so many conflicting pieces of a puzzle, helping me through this nightmare of a challenge.
I pressed my lips together and exhaled through my nose. “Great…” Easing off the pressure, I let the blade float back and forth, searching for the right spot. When I found it, I pressed down. Nothing.
Harder.
“Put all your weight into it.”
I leaned in, pressing hard, and when it broke with a sickening crack, I fell onto the bloody corpse. My hand caught me in a pool of gore on the floor. Reaper grabbed my elbow and helped me back up. I swallowed and pressed the blade back into the dead guy’s neck, ripping through the last of the connective tissue.
As soon as it tore free, I held the head up with a grunt, only for it to disappear from my grasp, along with the spirit itself. With a gust of wind, the double doors blew open, the faint light from inside sputtering. The gentle ambiance contrasted with the blood splatter on my hands and face, leaving me feeling a sense of dissociation. The air carried a chill, combining the odors of aged wood and dust, heightening the eeriness of the scene.
Reaper handed me a clean handkerchief, the crisp fabric incongruous against the disorder around us. I didn’t bother asking where he’d gotten it; with the mind-boggling amount of freaky things going on, there were more pressing concerns. The soft material felt oddly comforting as I wiped the blood from my face, though it did little to calm my nerves.
We crept forward toward the open doors, the faint light scattering through the shadows. The room beyond was vast, its dimensions swallowed except where the light touched. It could have been a banquet hall or ballroom, its grandeur now cloaked in decay. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the walls, their reflective surfaces catching the light and multiplying the dark outlines, creating an illusion of endless space.
When we crossed the threshold, the doors slammed shut with a deafening bang. I spun around, my hand flying to my chest as my heart pounded. The noise reverberated through the hall, the echoes joining with the distant creaks and groans of the old building.
“Of course we’re trapped,” I muttered, edging away from Reaper. The room seemed to close in around us, the mirrors reflecting my own anxious face from every angle.
“If this room has everything we need, as we were told, we’ll be able to get out.”
The inky darkness seemed to move and shift before my eyes. Whispers slithered through the silence. I’d believe the room itself was alive and aware of our presence if you'd told me so.
I scrunched my mouth to one side skeptically, scanning the room for another exit, my eyes straining to see. “Uh huh. What are the chances it wasn’t a trick?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why’d you go through with it then?”
The heavy, musty air weighed on my lungs, and the chill seeped into my bones. The elegant decorations, now covered in a thick layer of dust, stood as silent witnesses to the passage of time and the secrets the hotel held. Still backing away from him, putting space between us, I shrugged. “What other plan did we have?” But the ease I felt with him was at war with the vision I’d seen.
Reaper’s expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on me as if searching for something. The unbearable atmosphere pressed down on us, making each breath a conscious effort. Despite the fear gnawing at my insides, I had to press on.
