Page 71 of Anathema

The quiet guard chuckled nervously. “Why should you cunts get all the fun?” He cleared his throat and scratched at his arm, which appeared red and entirely inflamed.

Even if he might’ve once expressed opposition, there seemed to no longer be a chance to sway him. “Please,” I begged. “Please help me out of here.”

The guard cleared his throat again, turning his cheek as if refusing to look at me, and what little hope I had shriveled. “Quiet yourself. Mortal whore.”

The men broke out in laughter. “Someone get Stolyus some baneberry! He’ll go after Ferrys!”

“The hell I will,” Stolyus countered. “She’s …. She’s a disgusting mortal! I’d rather watch.”

One of the men chuckled, knocking him on the back as he handed him a bottle of what I presumed to be the liquor. “Well, let’s get it on, then! No more dawdling about.”

A man in tattered clothing was shoved into the room, his hair disheveled, eyes wild as they set on me. Markings and scars covered his skin, and on his wrists were copper-colored shackles. The guards unlocked the chain between them, but kept the shackles in place.

“No worries, he won’t be using any magic,” Dark-Hair said, as if that were the bulk of my concerns right then.

“For fuck sakes, at least arm the poor bastard. That cunt of hers might not let go!” One of the guards shoved a holstered blade into the disheveled man’s pocket, and it was then I realized just how much of a threat they perceived me to be.

As the prisoner drew near, I backed myself to the wall. I’d be no match against whatever magic the guards had wielded back at those woods, but I’d be damned if I’d let any of the bastards get the best of me then. At his hip, I caught the glint of that knife, and he paused his approach, glancing down toward it and back to me, wearing a wicked grin.

“You like that blade, little one?” He removed it from the holster, slowly drawing it out, and held it out to me, clutching the sharp end in his palm.

“’The fuck are you doing, man? You want to die! She’s mortal!”

“Which means she’s weak,” the prisoner said over his shoulder, never taking those predatory eyes off me.

“Oh, this is going to be good.” Redhead rubbed his hands together and shifted on his feet.

Body trembling, I looked down to the proffered weapon and back to the prisoner. In one quick lurch, I swiped it out of his hands, holding it out in front of me.

The sound of Red’s chuckle was drowned by the other guards’ boisterous laughter.

“Look at you tremble like a petal in the breeze. You think you can fight me, flower? No magic. Just fist to blade.”

“I’d bet three quints she’d give you a run for it,” the blond said behind Red.

“Three quints …” Red snorted and glanced back. “Can’t even buy a tankard of mors mead with that!”

“Mors mead? Only faeblood drink mors mead.”

Eyes shifting between the two guards and the prisoner who circled me, I waited to see if they’d fight. Fighting would’ve offered a distraction. A distraction meant escape.

“Calling me faeblood now, are you?” The guard pushed the other in the chest, the clang of his steel breastplate echoing through the room.

The second guard socked his elbow into the first guard’s nose, knocking him back against the wall.

As the man before me glanced back at them, I swung out, the blade slicing across his arm. I slipped past him and spun around, putting myself between him and the guards at the door.

“Fucking hells!” He growled, examining the wound. “Oh, you will pay for that, flower. Of all the foolish things!” Snarling, he lurched toward me, and I swiped out at him with the knife again. He lost his footing and tumbled backward onto his butt in a clang of metal when the shackles hit the concrete.

“My blood? It’s tainted all right. Nearly lost my eyesight from the sickness.” I poked the tip of the blade into my finger, wincing at the slight sting there, and jabbed the knife toward him.

Eyes wide, he scrambled backward, and his body broke into tremors, his brow glistening with sweat.

Afraid? Of me?

A wild surge of victory swam through me, and I edged closer, jabbing the knife again. “C’mon, you boorish pig!” I shouted, taunting him like a madwoman, but I didn’t care. I refused to be violated by the grotesque swine. “The germs in my blood will eat you alive!”

I was exhausted and furious.

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