“Blood is really warm, like drinking hot chocolate, but with more screaming.” Ryan Mecum
He stood outside the cell, back against the cool and damp stone and eyes closed. He had been in that position for quite some time, a few hours, if he recalled correctly. Still, time really held no more significance anymore; the waves of radiation from the nuclear bombs that had been dropped so long ago had destroyed any form of time-telling or electronic device.
Faint whispers gnawed at the edges of his hearing, and slowly his eyes opened. Arkady and Arsenio were making their way towards him, their movements in sync as they had been trained to do so. Their cloak hoods were pulled back—a rare sight—exposing their identical faces.
“What are you two doing here? Makilin wanted you to watch the prisoners.” He shifted his weight, wincing inwardly as the joints in his leg seized and stiffened.
“Prisoner,” Arkady corrected in a low voice.
“She has moved the other,” his brother finished.
Aiath paused to consider his leader’s decision. “She intends to pry the information out of the small one?”
Arkady’s grin was sinister.
Arsenio moved closer on feet that were strangely silent, as they were encased in heavy metal. “She wants you to be present and to bring the other with you so he can witness her methods.”
Aiath sighed deeply, stretching his arms and groaning as joints cracked. “Very well. I will gather the prisoner and meet you there.”
“Aiath.” Arsenio’s quiet voice stopped him.
His younger brother stared at him intently, his dark and emotionless gaze piercing the normally fearless second-in-command. “Fix your leg and present yourself better. You look like death warmed over.”
Aiath couldn’t help but smirk. “Noted.”
“I don’t want to die! Then you should have never been born.” Christopher Dila
I paced the room. My head was spinning, and a dull ache pounded in the back corners of my mind. I took in deep breaths to calm myself, but the process only increased the stabbing pain in my chest.
I was not nervous. I was…excited.
Mere moments away from interrogating Valentino and his comrade, I could not deny or repress the strange giddiness that arose from deep within. Oh, it had been so long since my last questioning…so long since I had had such satisfying entertainment…
Everything swam before me. It was strangely clear yet hazy and filthy yet clean. Such bizarre analogies…oh, I could not wait.
To feel the beating of their hearts was all I wanted. I yearned for their delectable blood and their sustaining screams as my hands tore through their flesh…such a measly protection, it was.
Flesh. Ha. Nothing but a mere mockery of safeguarding.
The dark, primal urge rose deep within me. Oh, yes…those two were mine, all mine, and my precious prey.
“The sinister, the terrible never deceive; the state in which they leave us is always one of enlightenment. And only this condition of vicious insight allows us a full grasp of the world, all things considered, just as a frigid melancholy grants us full possession of ourselves. We may hide from horror only in the heart of horror.” Thomas Ligotti
He had first heard it in the dead of the cold night. It jarred him from his emaciated sleep, immediately putting him on high alert.
It was screaming.
Oh so loud, terrified, heart-wrenching screaming.
He was not scared.
He was glad. One of them was getting what they deserved. They had conspired to kill his friend, his teammate.
Oh yes, he deserved what he was currently receiving.
He followed the noises, heart unnervingly still and quiet. His breaths were shallow and hoarse, and his steps were faltering as a result of his seizing leg.
He found her in the prisoner’s cell.
She was crouched over his body, her signature poison blade grasped tightly in her hand. It was buried to the hilt in the man’s chest, but nowhere near his heart. Dark blood poured from the wound, and his agonized screaming had died down to mere pathetic, weak whimpers.
It was then that he realized Makilin was drinking his blood.
Her mouth was attached to the wound, sucking it as her dark throat moved to swallow all of the blood. Trickles escaped, flowing down the sides of her mouth. Sensing him there, she turned.
Her crimson eyes blazed with a demonic light. Her nails were stained darkly and the edges of her cloak were as well. She looked terrifyingly beautiful.
Her tongue traced her bloodstained teeth almost thoughtfully, and she spoke in a deep and quiet voice.
“Would you like some?”
“Everybody is a book of blood; wherever we’re opened, we’re red.” Clive Barker
The broken corpse of Esperanzo laid face-down beside him. He, in all truth, had not expected that. The woman had been ruthless, dragging out the Latino’s death, making him suffer as she enjoyed every moment. There was something, he believed, seriously wrong with her. Her mind was not right; one moment she was crying and distressingly ill, the next she was strong and merciless and emotionless. So strange…
He was sitting, cold and shivering; in an underground jail, Makilin’s camp had somehow created during the war. The woman was coming for him next, of that he was sure, and he was not going to break, no matter if he was locked and tortured endlessly.
She was here now. The gold man was with her. She was even paler than before, and her left foot seemed lame, dragging uselessly at her side. Her crimson eyes blazed, however, as they always did.
They both grinned, exposing razor teeth. Fear gripped his heart in its cold embrace.
“Now…where were we?”
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