Page 19 of Consume
All of us were slipping into the end.
The tall man stalked forward, close enough I could see my blood dripping from his shadowed form.
My quick breaths clung to the air in wisps and held there like a curl of smoke. Smoke that tasted strange, like...tobacco.
My body seized. My head bent and twisted at such an agonizing angle, I thought for sure it’d snap. I now faced away from the tall man, toward the edge of the table where the chandelier piece had fallen from. My hand flopped toward the other edge, and with more strength than I ever had solo, I flipped the table. I crashed to my knees as it toppled to its side, a temporary shield. Same as my original plan.
The tobacco taste scurried back down my throat, and the twist at my neck eased. Red, a crewmember on the oldViciousship, granting me control. Saving me.
I scooped up the chandelier piece. The table blocking me hurled sideways into the wall, and the tall man stood there reaching for me, his ghastly teeth emerging from shadows in a terrifying grin. I crushed the metal and glass into mouth, and breathed in as he instantly dissolved into empty air.
For several moments, I stood in the wrecked room and tried to convince myself that my heart still beat, that I wasmeagain. For the most part anyway.
I plucked out some of the glass, miraculously unbroken, from the chandelier in my mouth and savored the tangy iron sweeping protectiveness through my body. “Thank you, Red. I owe you. Big time.”
The tall man wailed his hunger from the hallway, and from somewhere far away, a woman screamed. Poh? Or something more sinister than the tall man?
I yanked the delicate chandelier chain in my mouth into two and stuck one half in my pocket, patting it several times afterward to make sure it was really there. Because I’d been sure I brought iron with me. Why would I walk into a haunted house without it? But not remembering emptying my pockets before coming here worried me. Everything I’d done, everything that had just happened... Ithadhappened. Right? What else had I done that I couldn’t remember?
I’d have to carve out some time for an emotional breakdown later. Now, I retrieved my ice pick among the table’s splinters and exited the room.
With iron, the hallway seemed slightly warmer, brighter, the horrors sufficiently repelled. I tried door after door, even the spasming room, but found no sign of Poh or anything that might lead me to Ellison or Mase. If Poh had memorized the blueprints of this house, why had we entered that particular part of it if it didn’t lead anywhere important?
My gut twisted deep inside. I trusted Poh, much more than I trusted myself, but she didn’t make mistakes. She didn’t stray far from my side either. Maybe she was dead. Maybe whatever the Saelises inside of me were saying ran her off. Maybe I had her all wrong this whole time.
Shit.Shit.
My veins burned. I crushed my back teeth together and flexed my fingers. The best time for a backstabbing friend was never.
I cracked open the door of the plush fireplace room we’d already been in. An old woman with a high gray bun and a dress adorned with jewels and silk stood in the middle, a teacup and saucer in her trembling hands. She looked scared out of her mind, and when she turned to the opened door, she must’ve spotted me spying on her because she began a prayer and backed away.
Not a ghost. As much as I wanted to, I never terrified ghosts or glowing green-eyed hybrids. Humans who lived in the Byrian house on the other hand...
I threw open the door and stalked toward her, my scales, claws, and rage on full display. “Where do you keep your prisoners?”
“Wh—” She dropped her teacup as she backed away, her watery blue eyes huge. The cup shattered, and brown water sloshed all over her pristine shoes.
“Tell me!”
“I— Please.” She hit the wall behind her, but I kept coming. She threw up her hands, her whole body wincing as I drew in nose to nose. “Back the way you came.”
“Where?” I demanded, bracing my forearm across her fragile throat.
“Straight and then through the last door.” Her gaze caught on the chandelier chain in my mouth. “There’s a staircase, but...but you’ll need a key.”
“Then give it to me,” I said through clenched fangs.
She glanced down at the ice pick gripped in my fist and swallowed. “You’re her, aren’t you?”
“Yes. And you’re the Byrian who gave me the key.”
From below the neckline of her fancy dress, she withdrew an old-fashioned key that was attached to a delicate golden chain. I eased the pressure on her throat so she could unclasp the necklace and hand me the key. I turned away, the metal pressing into my palm.
“You won’t make it out of here.”
I glared at her over my shoulder. “I made it in, didn’t I?”
She took a confident step toward me, a glint of victory in her eyes. “Security will come if I scream.”
