Page 36 of Taken By Touch and Torment

What was existence, if not a responsibility?

Just as I had before, I chose Helia’s light. I swam for it, like a raven flying toward the sun’s rays that trickled through the tree branches of Crescent Haven’s forest.

I regained consciousness. Vampires surrounded me. I tried to move, but I was paralyzed by magick. The translucent hem of my dress brushed my ankles, and my eyes darted around the drawing room’s dark decadence of which I had become the centerpiece.

Aunt Carol glared at me with disdain, placing a bowl in my right hand and a chalice in my left. “When I release you,” she said, “you will maintain this position. A single movement, and Lillian’s children will punish you however they see fit.”

“Within Durian’s parameters,” Brennan said, at the front of the crowd.

Vampires glanced at him curiously, and I locked eyes with him, feeding him a steady stream of reinforcement.

She sees you now, I managed to whisper to his mind, allowing my magick to be a lifeline—the only thing keeping me afloat. You are the only vampire she truly wants.

Brennan’s eyes flashed. His desire continued to bloom, now with more ferocity. I tasted jealousy on his thirsty tongue. Perfect.

Aunt Carol removed her paralysis spell without warning, and I would’ve lost immediately if I hadn’t been expecting the move. I held tight to the objects in my hands and gave them my best impression of a living statue.

Statue, doll, pet, toy.

My heart bled endlessly. I wondered if I would ever again taste a semblance of peace, let alone joy, before my time on this plane was cut short.

A vampire woman to my right was feeding from Lana, petting her curly black hair as she sunk her fangs into Lana’s breasts.

“You, an ungrateful slut, serve our rightful king, he who was chosen by Lillian to restore the world to its natural order.” Spit flew from Aunt Carol’s mouth as she uttered the words at me. “How dare you dishonor him by interrupting Lillian’s prayers, drawing away glory from her to call attention to yourself!”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Carol,” I said robotically.

I wished my magick was as instant as the shadow magick of the turned, or the powers of witches and the born. I wished my fury could crumble this room to ash and slice through the throats of these merciless monsters.

But gods above and below, I would make do with what I had.

For the girl with her mouth sewn shut. For Lana, Mairin, and the rest of the men and women who’d been stolen from their homes.

I did not falter. I did not succumb.

“That’s not enough.”

Aunt Carol subtly flicked her wrist, and the objects in my hands became twice as heavy. My muscles twitched.

“Tell these masters that whatever methods they employ to make their servants perfect in the eyes of the Dark Mother are righteous and justified.” She turned and gestured to the crowd of vampires, thirsty and unhinged as they fucked my body with their eyes.

I knew what the intelligent move was. I knew what would better help me in the long run, what would even help the other slaves.

I locked eyes with Rosalind, still hanging back, barely paying attention to the vampire man fawning over her to her left. She gave me a clear, pointed look.

She knew what the right move was, too.

But I couldn’t do it.

I opened my mouth to tell them they were all disgusting. That I hated them, and I hoped they burned for an eternity.

Aunt Carol turned back to me, her lip curling.

I closed my mouth.

I wouldn’t doom the others. But I also wouldn’t disrespect that woman’s suffering—they could never get me to say that brutalizing her had been anything less than demonic.

Aunt Carol repeated herself, and still I stayed silent.

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