You grabbed my arm and said, “Look away, look away, look away.”
I averted my eyes from the dead man’s body. I assumed it was a man from his muscular physique, but it was hard to tell. His chest had been torn apart, literally, with his ribs poking out and his guts disemboweled. There was so much blood and mangled flesh, he looked like roadkill. And the smell…
Meanwhile, the man I assumed had won the match was strutting through the frenzied crowd with one arm raised in victory. There was blood all over the front of him, dripping down his arm and smeared around his mouth. I tried to make out what he was carrying in his hand. It looked like a human heart.
“Holy shit,” I kept saying over and over again. My knees shook and my stomach convulsed. My mind was splitting in two. One part was in my body, taking in the sex and gore that surrounded us, and the other was flying away to safety.
And then your arms swooped in around me, pressing me close to you. Your big, callused hands cupped the sides of my face, so that all I could see was Medusa’s crown of snakes and the breastplate that protected your vital organs. I smelled leather, your sweat, and my own fear. And the blood—it was everywhere.
“Your only job is todance, dance, dance.”
I clung to you. I didn’t want to look around. Didn’t want to see the carnage.
“Will that happen to you?” I asked desperately.
“No, it won’t. Now focus on your breathing.”
I emptied my mind of everything except my slow inhales and exhales. I was dizzy and nauseous, but your arms kept me upright. My breath was warm against your chest.
“The musicians are getting into place,” you whispered in my ear. All I had to do was dance. The rest was up to you. You’d protect me, just as you always had. I had to trust you, and I did, more than anything or anyone.
I swallowed down my fear and steeled my nerves. The spotlight was blinding, and I was glad for it. It meant I couldn’t see easily into the crowd.
“They’re ready for you now,” you said and turned me toward the stage. I took my opening position, and when the first blasts of the horns trumpeted, I leapt into the light. The crowd blurred as I blindly executed leap after leap. Only during the pauses in music and while spotting on my turns, did I catch glimpses of the garish scene that surrounded me. They were like visceral flashes from a horror movie. The tempo of the music was desperate and chaotic. That, coupled with my fear and adrenaline, made my leaps that much higher, my extensions more exaggerated, and my turns almost frenetic.
When the music ended and my final pose was struck, I expected to hear resounding applause—the normal response after finishing that solo. But instead the entire room was dead silent. The shadows in the crowd stilled as everyone stared at me in bewilderment. I glanced over to where you stood at the edge of the wooden platform. You motioned me toward you, and I ran. Your eyes tracked me like a hunter as you withdrew your sword from its sheath and aimed it at my chest.
This was how I would die. Lena had seduced me to fall on your sword, and you couldn’t help but obey. This would be my final performance. At least it would all be over soon. I tensed with the anticipation of your blade being driven through my rib cage, but at the last moment, you pivoted and grabbed me with your free arm, so that I was hugging you, and drove your weapon into a man I hadn’t realized was pursuing me. You grunted as you withdrew your sword from the man’s stomach with a sickening slurp.
His blue eyes were wide as his face contorted in an expression of anguish. He looked unreal, like a wax statue, but the blood seeping out of his abdomen was pretty convincing. Was this really happening? Had you just killed a man?
Your eyes swept our surroundings as if expecting another attack. The crowd was getting weird. One man broke a bottle of wine against a pillar, and another woman plucked up her steak knife and fisted it in one hand. Both of them turned their hollow eyes on you.
“What’s going on?” I asked nervously.
“There are more coming. Climb the drapes. Get as high as you can, and I’ll cut the end of it.”
I glanced around frantically and found the nearest curtain fixed to one of those tall, imposing columns. Using the pillar as a brace, I scaled it like a rope swing. You grabbed hold of the drape and hoisted yourself up, slicing it with your sword at the same time. It cut through the material like tissue paper, and you dropped with a resounding thunk onto the floor.
I climbed until I neared where the pillar met the ceiling. From my vantage point, I saw the entire room. The humans—I assumed they were humans—drifted toward the stage like they were possessed. The ones with weapons wielded them like they were hell-bent on murder. There had to be dozens of them, all with their zombie eyes focused on you.
Why were they attacking you? Did you know this would happen? You must have. There was no surprise on your face when that man came for me. A sick feeling rose in my throat as I realized this must have been what Lena had demanded. And the only reason you’d agreed to it was to keep me safe.
I’d done this to you.
I wanted to yell at you to stop, that I’d take whatever cruelty Lena had in mind. But I’d promised to obey, and I didn’t think you’d hear me anyway. You were in a trance all your own. Your face was splattered with blood as your eyes narrowed with the single-mindedness of a killer.
Your blade moved like quicksilver, more often in human flesh than outside of it. Bodies hit the floor with sick thudding noises, and the hall echoed with the strangled screams from those you’d wounded. You’d studied the human body extensively and fought resurrected corpses for decades, maybe even centuries, which meant you knew every vulnerability. You didn’t even appear to be straining as your sword pierced tissue with the precision of a surgeon. I watched you fend off two attackers, while squatting down and pivoting 180 degrees to slice open another man’s Achilles with your dagger. He flopped to the floor like a fish in a pool of his own spurting blood. A woman ran at you and leapt onto your back. You pulled her forward by her hair and sunk your teeth into her neck. Her screams… I forced myself to look away.
But they just kept coming. Didn’t they realize it meant their death? And that’s when I understood they were under enchantment. Beyond the light of the stage, Lena and Lucian orchestrated the scene, conducting their guests toward you. Their lips made the same wicked shapes and their hand movements mirrored each other. The glint in their eyes was truly demonic.
“Stop this,” I cried out, trying to get their attention.
You glanced up, and that momentary break in concentration allowed one of your opponents to stab where your breastplate left you exposed.
I screamed at you to watch out. I hadn’t realized it, but the man who’d attacked you was already impaled on your sword. You’d gutted him while your head was turned, and you barely noticed your own injury. Were you numb to the pain? You flung the man’s body away and yanked on your sword only to swing it around your head and slice open another man’s throat.
That’s when I puked.
