Page 80 of Queen's Griffon

“Well, I am most delighted you’re here,” Basil stated with a smile. “Now, shall we eat?”

Her nose wrinkled at the grayish gruel in the bowl. It would be rude to refuse. It tasted as unpalatable as it looked, but Avera managed to choke it down, bitter taste and all.

With her belly full, her eyes grew heavy, and she yawned. “Goodness, but I’m tired.”

“Sleep. Sleep. We’ll speak more when you wake.” Her father waved to his bed.

Avera stumbled in its direction, didn’t remember hitting the makeshift mattress, and awoke confused for she lay flat on her back on a hard surface. When she tried to move, she found herself unable to do so for she’d been tied down. She thrashed, tugging to no avail at the straps binding her wrists and ankles.

“Help!” she yelled.

“Awake already? I should have put more of the sleeping agent in your stew,” Basil muttered as he came into view, holding some narrow tubing, the dangling end of it fitted with a needle.

“What’s happening? Why have you tied me down?” she huffed, straining to free herself.

“Because I need some of your blood.”

“My blood?” she squeaked. “Why are you trying to kill me?”

“Not kill. You’ll simply feel a little weak once I’ve extracted a few pints.”

“You’re not making any sense. Why do you need to bleed me?” Avera asked as he wrapped a tight band around her forearm and began tapping around her inner elbow.

“Because I require it for an experiment.”

“Why my blood? Why not use your own?”

“I would if I could, however, it doesn’t have the right qualities.”

“But mine does?” Did he know it sometimes allowed her to do magical things?

“We will soon find out. Now, don’t move while I put this needle in a vein. My eyes aren’t as keen as they used to be, and I’d hate to miss.”

Avera could only watch wide-eyed as he brought the sharp, metal tip close to her skin. When it poked, she let out a scream, not of pain, but rage.

Turned out it wasn’t the monsters of Verlora she should have feared, but her own father.

Chapter 25

Griff

It wasn’trats that attacked in the first intersection Griff and the others encountered, but spiders.

Monty spotted the webs crisscrossing the halls and poked at the mess. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s been this way in a while.”

“Not necessarily. Spiders can build impressive weaves in a single day,” Griff noted as he tried to remember if the labs were left or right. He’d only been through these mazes of tunnels a few times as a boy with his father. At the time, he’d not paid attention to directions.

“Stuff’s sticky,” Monty remarked as he waved his sword, trying to dislodge the webbing clinging to it.

The owner of said web took offense and dropped from the ceiling onto Monty’s head and literally covered it, the legs of the spider wrapping around his face and holding on.

Monty uttered a high-pitched scream. “Get it off!” He flailed and Simhi clucked.

“Hold still while I try to remove your spider hat.”

“Quick, before it bites him,” Griff exclaimed, seeing the spider’s fangs emerge.

Simhi stabbed it in the bulbous belly, releasing a rancid flood of ichor. As the legs went limp, Monty flung it from his head and spat. “Ugh. Gross. Blerg.”

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