Page 89 of Touched By Death

Darting my gaze around, I spot a nearby door that leads to the secret passageways. Without thinking it through, I make a run for it. In my panic, I tumble to the floor. My knees take the impact, but I’m too high on adrenaline to notice the throb that blooms in my kneecaps. I’m back up in the next second, running like my life depends on it.

Wrenching open the door, I escape inside, slam it shut, and slide the bolt into place just as Daemon’s weight crashes into the wood. With a yelp, I stumble back. The dark passageway is so narrow that I can’t stretch my arms out to either side of me. I tuck my wings close to my body, cursing the potion Lucifer fed me. Unable to conjure my fire magic, I resort to inhaling a deep breath. I focus my mind on the light. A flash of it explodes in the passageway, blinding me for a brief second before it settles back down. It’ll take me a long time to learn how to manipulate it properly.

I hold my hand up like a torch and glance behind me. Daemon drives his boot into the door, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

“Shit,” I whimper, turning back around and setting off down the hallway with no idea where these secret passageways lead. The walls feel as if they’re closing in, and my shaky breaths puff out in front of me in the damp, cold air. I swallow back a pathetic sob and move forward. Something soft scurries past my ankle, causing me to cry out and jump back against the damp wall. The light dims for a brief moment, descending the small space into darkness. My heart thuds heavily in my chest, each individual beat grinding out a tune of despair and unbridled fear. I focus on my breathing. Deep inhales. Deep exhales.

Pushing off the wall, I put more focus on the light to make it glow brighter. The shadows dart back in response, hissing and spitting in front of and behind me.

I come to a fork in the tunnel and make a swift decision to turn right. The air grows colder as whispered, ghostly voices slither down my spine. Sweat beads on my neck, and strands of my long hair stick to my skin.

My hesitant yet rushed steps slow. Up ahead, on the dirty ground, is a metal tray with pillar candles.

Four in total.

The flames barely flicker, as still and calm as the chilling silence in the air. I walk closer, unable to take my eyes off that tray of candles. The sinister whispers grow louder, while imaginary hands reach through the walls to grapple at my arms. Torn nails scratch and claw at my exposed skin.

I come to a stop in front of the candles and peer down with my heart in my throat and a potent taste of fear on my tongue.

“Go back,” a voice of reason whispers in my ear.

I pay it no attention.

Not when my gaze snags on the door to my left. With a thick swallow, I reach for the handle and push down. The hinges creak loudly in the thick silence.

Peering inside the dark, gaping space, I hesitate. A whisper of cold air greets me as I step over the threshold and shine my light over the small space. Photographs of me cover every inch of the walls. Photographs of me chained naked with my wings bound.

Pushed up against the wall sits a small wooden desk. To the side is a mattress with crumpled, dirty sheets and a pillow that’s been tossed to the floor.

Moving closer to the desk, I pick up a notebook. Angry, scrawled handwriting litters every page, like the rantings of a madman.

Then there was her. A fucking angel amongst demons.

At first, I planned to kill her to hurt him. To take away his forbidden secret obsession. But now, I want it all. I want my revenge. I want her.

I flip more pages while my heart continues beating out an erratic rhythm inside me. Whoever my stalker is has stayed here, right under our noses. Maybe he’s still here? Inside the house?

Placing the book down with trembling hands, I turn, only to let out a scream. Warm hands clamp down on my shoulders, and Dmitriy hauls me close. “What the fuck is this place?”

For a brief moment, I cling to his T-shirt and hold him close. Then, as I peer up at him, fear claws its way up my constricted throat. I shove him off and stumble back. “How did you know about this place?”

Confused, he opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “It’s you. You’re the stalker.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re the fucking stalker, Dmitriy,” I all but scream as my hands fly up to fist my hair. He takes a step toward me, but I dart back onto the mattress, the soft fabric sinking beneath my weight. “You kidnapped me.”

Watching me uncomprehendingly, he starts to speak, but then his attention gets diverted by the notebook on the desk. Walking past me, he picks it up and scans the pages. As he flips through it, the rustling sound disturbs the silence. I contemplate making a run for it, but something keeps me rooted to the spot. His eyes flick to the photographs on the walls, and he turns in a circle, taking them all in. “We need to tell Daemon.”

When he turns to me, I press back against the wall. “Don’t come any closer.” Images of the masked stalker assault my mind in the ensuing silence that chokes my shaky plea.

“Aurelia?” Dmitriy whispers, stepping closer, but he stops when I whimper. “You don’t think I did this, do you?” He points at the photographs. “You’re not accusing me of stalking you, right? That’s not what this is?”

“Why are you here?”

“Why am I here?” His lips purse, confusion written all over his face. “I saw you turn down this hallway.”

“You just happened to be around, lurking in some secret passageways?”

---