Page 1 of The Blood of Gods and Monsters

Chapter 1

Kiera

11 years old…

My feet drag along a stone floor. The smell of something wet and rotten enters my nose, but I have no energy left to flinch from it. My eyes are swollen and my limbs don’t react as the two men hauling me through the hall cut a corner too close and my foot catches on a crack in the ground. The toe of my boot gets lodged and nearly rips my foot off before the crack releases me.

Breath saws in and out of my chest. I’ve never felt so weak in my life. When was the last time I saw the sun? I miss it. I never thought I’d miss being outside. I never even contemplated a time when it wouldn’t be readily available to me.

The harsh burn of tears threatens to fill my eyes. I don’t even try to hold them back, but instead, I let them flow free and down my dirt smeared cheeks. I want to go home. The craving is so sharp and desperate that I choke back another sob as more tears fall.

“Here,” one of the men snaps. One side of my body sags as the man who had been holding me up there disappears. The creaking of metal fills the silence as the faint scent of urine burns my nostrils.

Lifting my head slightly—as much as I can manage in my current state—I spot the opening of a dark room. A cell. A shiver chases up my spine. There’s no window. No light. I bite down on the urge to beg these men to free me, to not hurt me. They’re going to, whether I ask them or not. I’m starting to learn that it’s better to just keep my requests to myself. Adults can’t be trusted. Not anymore.

The man who is still holding me drags me forward and then tosses me inside. My side hits the ground hard, and I let out a soft cry of pain as it rattles through my body. The brimstone cuffs on my wrists dig into the skin there, and somehow, it makes me feel even more tired than I know I should be.

I’ve always been sturdy. A strong girl, my dad had often praised me. His strong girl. I close my eyes once more, ignoring the physical pain as the emotional agony takes over all thought.

“Daddy…” My lips form the word, but it’s barely more than a gasping whisper. The last of my strength is sapped from me and disappears as the door to my cell is shut once more and I hear a lock click.

I don’t know how long I lie here like this, unmoving, uncaring, wishing for someone to come and take me away from this horrible place. I don’t care if that means I'll go to the bad place Dad always talked about. The place where villains in stories go. So long as I’m not here without him, anywhere would be better.

My mouth grows dry, tasting of dust and air. My head swims away from itself. I recognize that my body remains in place, but my mind … my mind goes to distant places. Far, far away.

By the time I come back to myself, there are clinking footsteps echoing up the stone walls, reverberating all around me. Too loud. Too much. I cannot figure out where they’re coming from. Then they stop and silence descends once more.

I sink deeper into the mind that has become my safe haven. The place that makes me forget … everything.

“Have you given up?”

The sound of another’s voice shoots through me like an arrow spearing into flesh and bone. I jolt and my eyes flicker open. I find that I’m lying on my side, facing the cell door where a woman now stands. She’s beautiful, or at least, I think so. Dad never really spoke about beauty much but to tell me that I was always beautiful, just like my mom. Whoever she is.

The woman stands there, head canted to the side and arms crossed. At her side, a boy with a bored face watches me. His face is of an olive complexion with a cleft in his chin. His hair is dark and shorn close to his head. Equally dark eyes glance up at the woman before looking back at me. His expression doesn’t change. Something vile reaches into my chest and grabs ahold of my heart. How can he not feel … anything as he looks at me?

The anger rears its ugly head in a way it hasn’t since the cuffs had been locked onto my wrists that horrible night and I had been forced to watch as my father was beaten and killed. Had this woman been the mastermind? Had she sent them? My upper lip curls back from my teeth.

I’ll kill her.

“Mother, do I have to be here?” the boy asks.

The woman scowls. “What have I told you about calling me Mother, Carcel?” she snaps. The boy ducks his head, but his face blanches in clear irritation and hurt. A selfish piece of me enjoys his pain.

“Sorry, Guild Master,” the boy, Carcel, replies.

The woman jerks her head towards the end of the corridor that lies outside of this cell. “Go back to training,” she orders.

Carcel doesn’t waste any time following the command. Without a second glance back at me—the girl in the dirty cell—he scampers off, and after a few moments, the woman and I are alone. She turns her attention back to me.

“Are you going to answer me?” she demands.

I blink slowly, confused by her words. “What?” I croak.

“Have you given up?” she repeats her earlier question.

That depends, I decide. Pressing my bound hands flat on the icy stone, my elbows shake back and forth with the effort it takes for me to sit up. I glare at her. “Did you send those men after me and my dad?” I ask instead of answering.

She tilts her head to the other side and continues to stare at me. “No,” she finally says. “I didn’t send them. They sold you to me when they found out that you were a Divine Child.”

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