Remortality by Selina A. Fenech

Author:Selina A. Fenech [Fenech, Selina A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fairies and Fantasy Pty Ltd
Published: 2021-06-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Kaitlyn

Tunnels turned this way and that as I was carried aloft by the Starved, led by the larger one. I tried to keep track; memorize the turns we took. Left, then right, then right again, then I was lost. The thought I couldn’t find my way back to Owen if I had to filled me with helplessness.

We reached a huge cavern, lit by dozens of flaming torches. At least a hundred Starved filled the room, some still coming in from a number of other entrances. As we entered, they parted, and I saw what was behind them.

I wished I hadn’t.

A monstrous stone statue of a giant demonic creature stood at least two stories tall. The face carved onto the creature was the stuff of nightmares: bulging eyes, an obscene, lolling tongue, a horned forehead and an uneven grin, all made from a chalky, bone-colored stone, stained with patches of muddy red.

It had a bulbous body, and huge, gnarled claws, out of proportion with the rest of its size. Its misshapen feet were planted solidly behind a long stone altar. I gagged and turned away, not sure what it was I was seeing but knowing it was evil. So evil that there was no way to deny the darkness flowing from it.

I was dragged before the altar. The leader stood beside me on the raised dais, holding me up by the scruff of my neck to display me before the legion of Starved.

His grimy thumbnail moved along my face. I fought, my hands balling into fists, wanting to strike away that thing, but I was still restrained.

A thin sliver of pain came to my cheek. A wet and warm fluid dripped down my face. Blood! I cried out, despair and fear causing me to lose my courage.

The leader sniffed and the others leaned in, a low moan rippling across the room. The hoods showed their eyes but not their noses or mouths, and I watched with disgust as those leather masks moved up and down, and their eyes closed as they inhaled the aroma of my blood, like wine lovers sniffing their favorite vintage.

He spoke. “Yes, it is she of the strawberry blood.”

A strange howl arose from the crowd, muffled by mouths stitched closed.

“Kissare’s chalice always delivers truth. Though others have long since lost faith, we remain. They succumbed to the thirst like fools. We remained, and here, now, is our reward.”

If I thought that sounded bad, what he said next left my stomach on the floor.

“We have found the strawberry blood and the cured one. We have found the ones who will give us the child that will cure our thirst forever.”

That throaty howl called out again, louder than before.

My instincts said to run, but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to escape to. No way to break the hold of the hands on me.

I stammered, “I’m not planning on having kids anytime soon, so I’d say you would be better off letting me out of here and checking

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