Page 105 of Demise

Despite my hesitance, Christopher seems to forgive it because he nods to the man on this side of the door, ordering him to open it. When he does, a man steps inside carrying a woman. A limp woman. He lays her on the table before he begins strapping her wrists together beneath the table. Her legs are next, forcing her white nightgown to ride up and more than a few Elders to lean forward in appreciation.

Fucking disgusting.

Her eyes are glazed as her head lulls to the side. Her long black hair reaches almost to her hips, and the untamed curls looked caked in something. Based on the smell of her, I’d say it was vomit.

“Behold! A witch!” Christopher hisses, causing an uproar to sound through the room.

The woman’s eyes can’t move, though, it’s like she’s imprisoned inside her own body. This is a witch? This is the thing that our parents, our Elders, have been warning us about for all these years?

“She was a nasty one. Gave some of our own a rough time when they selected her, so not to worry,” Christopher says to the room before his hardened eyes come to her. “She’s been subdued.”

That’s obvious. She looks as if she’s been hooked up to a drip for days. Based on the condition of her, she could have been kept for longer. I know as well as any that there are many cells down here, and I’ve always been told to pretend like you don’t hear the screams. How could you ignore it, though?

Christopher’s hand goes to the black cloth, unwrapping it to show a gilded wrapped dagger. He hands it to me, handle first,and I take it slowly, looking down at it before up to him. I know what comes next, and fuck, I’m not ready.

“Liam, this woman has been convicted of witchcraft, what do we, as the Brethren, do next?”

“Death,” I answer hollowly. “Death to witches.”

“Maleficis esse mori,” the room chants.

Christopher nods in approval as he gestures to her.

“Cut out her heart and take a bite! Feast on the wicked to show you hold no fear!”

I feel my face go pale, I know everyone can see it, and I don’t care. Feast on what? He wants me to…to…cut out her heart andeatit? Just the very idea of it has my stomach turning.

The entire room stares at me with anticipation, but I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

“Son,” a voice sounds from the corner of the room.

My head whips around to see my father staring at me with malice in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything else, but his intent is clear. Do this, now. Do not embarrass me. Do not embarrass yourself. Do the Walcott name justice.

Turning back to the drugged out woman, I take a wobbly step towards her and then another before I’m next to her chest. With shaky hands, I reach out to her nightgown, ripping the front of it open.

Her breasts spill free, and I notice them littered with bruises and hickeys as several men holler out in appreciation. I can’t help but turn away, my entire stomach turning in disgust. Witch or not…this is wrong. To even imagine what she’s been through over the last…however long is unthinkable. If this was Skyla, if this was my mother… I…

“Are you having difficulties, brother?” Christopher asks, displeasure heavy in his tone.

I look up to him, my eyes burning as tears begin to fill my eyes.

“Are you not capable of protecting our people?”

I don’t speak, not knowing what to say, as Asher shoots me a panicked look. He’s begging me to do something, but I can’t. I’m frozen, no matter how hard I try to move my hands or my mouth, they are both glued in place.

Anger ignites in Christopher’s eyes as he sneers, stepping toe to toe with me as he lifts a gun to my head. I quiver under his hold as he turns his head to the side and scoffs.

“If you cannot do something as simple as rid the world of evil, then you have no place in the Brethren. Choose your allegiance now. NOW!” he thunders, the flick of the safety being turned off echoing in the silent room.

“I,” I pant shakily, blowing out a choppy breath. “W-will. I-I can,” I say a little easier this time.

Christopher watches me through narrowed eyes before taking half a step back, lowering his gun by his side as he gestures for me to continue. I know that I have no choice. I know that to refuse is to sign my own death certificate, and fucking God help me, as selfish and disgusting as it is, I choose life. I choose Skyla, I choose Asher. I choose me.

The dagger plunges into her chest, forcing her back to bow despite being heavily drugged. A spine chilling scream erupts from her as several men step forward, helping to pin her down as I continue dragging the knife through her. I’m hacking through chunks of flesh, bone and muscle as I attempt to make my way through to her heart. In minutes, I have her entire chest cracked open, a river of bright red blood pouring out of her body cavity. So much for witches bleeding black.

I grab her heart into my hand. A squelching noise rips out of her mouth as her body begins seizing. The warm, wet organ slips in my hand, forcing bile to rise up inside me as I begin cutting it out. Blood squirts me across the face before shooting out across the room. A commotion sounds behind me because of it, but Idon’t focus on them, I focus on the task at hand with everything I have.

When I cut the last vein, freeing the slippery mass, I turn to face the room, holding it up in victory as the Elders roar in celebration. It’s a sound similar to a football game when the home team scores a touchdown. Varying expressions of ferocity take over each Elder as they cheer me on. Ingersoll looks downright feral as he mimics savage biting gestures. Egging me on.

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