“What’s your name, pet?”
As he reaches for my face, I instinctively lunge forward, my teeth snapping at his fingers. Regret floods me in an instant as a dizzying sensation washes over my body.
With a sinister chuckle, the demon rises. “Feisty. That’s good. You’ll need that inner fire, that fight. It keeps you alive and fresh. Your blood pumping.”
“Fuck you, demon,” I growl through short, sharp breaths.
“My name is Abchanchu.”
“Good to know.”
“I thought so.”
I glare up at him. “So, they finally caught you and trapped you here in the Outlands?”
Abchanchu, the Bolivian vampire, is a creature of myth and terror. Legend has it he possesses the uncanny ability to shape-shift into the form of a frail and unsuspecting traveler. This deceptive transformation allowed him to blend effortlessly among ordinary people, luring them into a false sense of security. However, as soon as his true nature was revealed, mass panic ensued. The fear instilled by Abchanchu was so intense it prompted the supernatural council to take drastic measures. In a desperate bid to rid their land of this malevolent being, a substantial bounty was placed on his head, offering a reward to anyone who could capture or eliminate him.
Abchanchu’s dark irises bleed, transforming his entire eyes into inky-black pools. He’s in front of me in seconds, hand wrapped around my throat, lifting me from the ground and pinning me against the jagged stone behind me.
“I will get free, and I will hunt every one of those pests who helped trap me here,” he snarls, disturbingly dark veins running under his skin.
Myhead pounds relentlessly, and my vision fills with dancing white spots as I struggle to take a breath.
“No one . . .” I fight to get the words out. “Escapes the Outlands. I’ll personally make sure you die here,” I add, spitting in his face.
The dryness in my mouth makes the experience less satisfying than I had anticipated.
Abchanchu releases his grip, and I fall to the ground, my weak limbs crumbling under me. Before I can regain myself, he grips the hair on the top of my head, forcefully ripping my head back, and a sharp pain sears my neck as he sinks his teeth into my flesh.
I scream out, the sound echoing off the cave walls. White-hot agony ripples from the bite wound, the blood in my veins on fire. Time seems to stretch out endlessly, but in reality, it’s only a brief moment that passes by.
Pulling back from his bite, he leans in close, my blood smeared over his lips. “I can make this extremely painful for you. Or we can learn to enjoy our time together.”
“Fuck you.”
“Such a mouth on you.” He chuckles darkly. “I have to say, I find it more pleasing this way.”His clawed fingers grip my face as he comes in close, holding me firm. “I hate it when they cry and beg.”
My stomach twists at the way his eyes drop to my mouth, and he licks the blood from his lips.
“I wonder what noises you make if—”
Acting on instinct, I wrench my face from his hand, and with my dwindling energy, I slam my forehead into his nose, relishing the pleasant crack that resonates through the air.
“I’d rather die,” I hiss sharply, fury bleeding into my tone.
The backhand that follows is swift and brutal, the force behind it sending a shockwave of pain through my skull. My vision blurs instantly, white-hot stars exploding behind my eyes as the world around me tilts violently.
The ringing in my ears drowns out everything else, the sounds of the room fading into a distant hum. The cold darkness closes in, the edges of my vision narrowing as the pain slowly dulls, replaced by a numbness that creeps through my limbs.
It’s a strange sort of relief when the sweet embrace of unconsciousness begins to take hold. With no strength left to fight, I surrender. My eyes flutter closed, the last remnants of light slipping away as I plunge into the welcoming darkness.
Chapter eighteen
Ashwiyaa
“It takes more courage to suffer, than to die.” -Napoleon Bonaparte
The first thing that greets me as I wake up is the empty silence of the cave.
