Page 30 of Haunt

The hyoid bone.

For fertility.

The priest of this cradle –holy house- steps forward, his face in shadow, hands me a tiny vial of crimson, a cork stopper in its top.

“Sangue del padre,”-father’s blood-he speaks lowly, voice vibrating as the sea of followers begin to speak it too.

I snag the stopper with my canine, popping it free and spitting it onto the floor. The clotted blood inside the glass, enough to roll my stomach, but it’s just another thing I have to do to get my girl.

And I will doanything.

The priest touches my head. Speaking words just for me.

“Dai vita, Numero Due.”

-Give life, Number Two-

Closing my eyes, I swallow the vial down. The thickness of it sticking on the very back of my tongue, but I work it down, rolling my throat over and over as I swallow again and again. Sweat is slick across my skin, jeans open at the waist, and boots laced, both items still on.

I swallow again, opening my eyes as the priest backs away. My gaze lifting onto her, she blinks down at me, and I expect to see fear, instead, there is nothing. I can’t get a read on her, but I know I have to keep going.

I wonder what she thinks.

How she feels.

Watching this.

Me.

Our future.

What it holds.

Blood and bone and love.

Fuck.

I dip down, re-taking the dagger in hand, my palm and fingers pulsing with the cuts as they re-curl around the silver hilt. With my right hand, I arch the woman’s neck, pushing her head back, lifeless eyes staring away from me now. I slice below her chin, in the top of her throat, cutting as deep as I can until I hit bone.

This is what I want.

I twist the dagger, making the entrance wound as wide as I can, and then I drop the blade shoving my fingers inside the open throat. Scissoring my index and middle finger until I locate the piece I need.

Fisting my hand in her light hair, I hold her head back, dip my face to the underside of her chin, and use my teeth to pick my way inside. I have to bite and tear, my jaw crunching with the effort of procuring the hyoid. And when my front teeth finally bang into it, my breath held, my stomach fucking rolling, I huff a sigh of relief and bite my teeth around the curve of it.

I tear my head back, ripping it free with every ounce of strength I have. Pain explodes in the sides of my face, blooming through my temples like quick bursts of fire, but I keep the small bone between my teeth. Stringy shit I don’t want to think about still attached to it, dangling down my chin.

It’s for her.

Everything is for you, Little Lamb.

Even if you think I’m a monster now.

I’ll be yours.

Your monster, yours to trample, yours to command.

“Sii benedetto,” -be blessed-rings around the room in a boom resembling a clap of thunder.

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