Shadows of A Vampire by M. L. Guida

Author:M. L. Guida [Guida, M. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Buffalo Mountain Press
Published: 2019-05-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Lark dangled from a wooden stake implanted deep in the ground, his throbbing arms stretched high over his head. His throat was parched, and he didn’t have enough spit to swallow.

Boom-boom Boom-boom Boom-boom

His head and heart pounded so hard he thought they’d exploded.

Brittle grass walls surrounded him, and the sun streamed through slots of the uneven slats of the ceiling, casting bars of light onto his body and the floor. He had been dragged from the belly of the Fiery Damsel to a grass hut on Zuto’s island. The demon himself hadn’t made an appearance, but his power radiated throughout the island. Lark felt his presence. Zuto was stronger than Natasa but unpredictable.

An ocean breeze blew the crooked door open, shaking the walls. The chains over his head clanged against the stake, and he swayed like a pendulum, straining his twisted muscles. Pain pulsed through him as the manacles cut deeper into his wrists.

He inhaled and wished he could smell the fragrant grass and sea, not his overpowering stench of sweat, urine, and raw flesh. He stared at a brass tub filled with clean water. All he had to do was say aye to Natasa and lose his soul, and he could soak in the bath.

His stomach growled, and he swallowed, barely rousing enough spit. He did not possess the power to splash any of the water onto his sweating body. The temptation to give into Natasa beat upon him. Physical torture was better than staring at the tub. God, he wanted to wash away the black magic filth so badly. He could take pain. Take whatever the bitch would wield upon him. But this mind game was far worse. He hated to admit it—Natasa was winning. He did not know how much longer he could endure. He was a simple man, not a hero.

Enough.

Help, he needed help. He closed his eyes and drew on his power. Mariah. He needed to appear in her dream. The Phoenix might never find him on this dreaded island otherwise.

Tingles crept over his skin as the magic swirled inside him. An image of Mariah appeared in his mind, and he focused all his energy onto her. The yari slowly tightened around his neck, spiking into his flesh.

“Mariah,” he choked. “Hear me. S’il vous plaît.”

“Cease.” Natasa stood in the doorway. Her deep scowl meant another encounter of agony.

A sharp pain pierced his chest, and he bit back an anguished cry. Blood seeped from a fresh deep cut under his right nipple.

“Spells equal pain, handsome.” She snapped her fingers. “Bring it in, slaves.”

He braced himself for whatever new torture the bitch had planned. A native man brought in a wooden table and a chair, followed by three native women who carried trays laden with bananas and slices of mangoes sprinkled with shredded coconut. Another plate had strips of cooked pork that taunted his senses. A large pitcher of water was set in between the plates of food. Lark licked his lips, and his stomach grumbled.

Nasta gestured with her hand.

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