“No, I’m good,” I grit.
The world goes black around the edges as her fingers script a cruel sermon into my crotch. The nerves across my groin misfire, and my stomach lurches. I’ve lost the motor functions in my arms and hands to continue attempting an escape.
“I couldn’t quite hear you. What was that, boy?”
A thunderous gong claps inside my spine. Her bony hand twists deliberately—not enough to cause serious damage, but enough get the reaction she’s looking for.
I growl like a wild animal as my molars grind together.
Fuck!
I refrain from cursing in her face. Calling her the many insults populating in my brain at a rapid rate. I hold back the adjective I want to use. The foul, grotesque threats. The crude, downright evil taunts.
I might as well kiss my balls goodbye if I give in to those impulses.
“No, that isnotwhat I want,” I growl.
Agatha smirks. “I thought so. You men are all the same. What a pathetic weak spot.”
Don’t you fucking say what you’re thinking, Niklaus.
That rigid hand unclenches, and I sag in both agony and relief. My thighs tremble as the pain flares wide, cascading into my gut, laying down a heavy, potent wave of nausea for me to sit with. My groin contains a slow, throbbing explosion. The anguish deep in my pelvis makes it feel like something vital has been permanently severed. But I know I have to wait.Breathe. Wait. Breathe.
Agatha glances back at Sapphire. Fuck, she looks bad. Open mouth. Half-crest eyes. Skin oily and practically a sick shade of green.
“I’ll leave you two to talk,” she announces smugly.
Agatha’s absence is a huge fucking relief, yet dread settles into my chest as I wait for Sapphire to fire off a string of profanities and complaints. I’d welcome it actually. Anything to relieve this tension.
But she doesn’t say a word.
17. The Offering
Niklaus
I have no concept of time.
Is it day or night?
Sapphire only tries to speak once. I ask her if she’s all right. If she’s dying. Her response is an incoherent guttural sound. It’s as if her mouth has been sucked of all moisture, and she’s unable to even peel her tongue from the roof of her mouth. I flinch. Not at the noise, but at what it means. Words have always been her way of fighting back.
And now she cannot speak.
“I know I said you didn’t save us last time when you traveled us out of that fight, but I’m really going to need you to do it again,” I say, my request dying into the silence the moment it touches the dark room.
Sapphire doesn’t move. I’m not even sure if she’s breathing anymore.
An unwanted sting of guilt penetrates my chest. She’s getting this a lot worse than I am. Obviously, if she could travel—even if it’s to save herself from this torment, she would. But is it a matter of whether she can control it? Or is it limited?
The basement door creaks open slowly, allowing a blinding light to split the dark like a knife. My eyes water and squint to adjust, searching the room for Sapphire. Is she still alive? I land on her bare stomach first. Thinning out. Ribs slightly protruding with each shallow breath.
How long have we been down here? I can imagine it’s only been several hours, not days. But I’m getting increasingly anxious for basic human needs. For instance, I have to piss like a racehorse, and I’m strapped to this massively uncomfortable chair. I’m sure Sapphire does too—if she hasn’t pissed herself already.
Those strange eyes open, slow blinking at the ceiling.
“Open your mouth, boy.”
I flinch at the aged, hardened voice next to me.
