Page 126 of Eternal Craving

They flung me into the chair.

I assumed the stake sticking out of my side was the cause of my inability to move. Pain radiated down my right leg. I’d almost reached the end of the tunnel, but they’d gotten to me first. The torture chamber reeked of blood and fear – my own.

I realized that was how they forced Sunaria to remain in the coffin, using a similar stake. I cringed at the thought, and wondered if she, like me, couldn’t even talk.

Delacroix loomed over me.

Thinking of Sunaria being so close and knowing I couldn’t help her made me feel a pure terror like I’d never known.

Delacroix’s fingers lingered at the end of the spike and he muttered something I couldn’t understand. My gaze followed his over to a cabinet and I gulped back dread.

Get me out of this fucking chair!

He lifted out a large jar. A decapitated head – a grotesque sight – bobbed inside, the likeness to Delacroix uncanny. The same mop of black hair, pasty, mottled skin, eyelids closed, and a drooping mouth in a sorrowful expression. Delacroix peered into the jar.

The idea that Sunaria was suffering provoked an inner force within me and stopped me from passing out. Delacroix placedthe jar down on top of the cabinet and reached inside with a maniacal look on his face.

With all my strength, I strained to move my right hand, but a weak twitch of my middle finger was all I could muster.

Delacroix carried the wet, grisly head back to me.

“You’re insane.”

He held it close, and droplets of fluid plopped onto my trouser leg. Cold soaked through to my thigh. The walls closed in.

“I was right,” he mumbled. “You’re the perfect build.”

Chapter Forty-One

A fear like I’d never known turned my blood to ice.

Despite being paralyzed, my entire body trembled, so much so, that the chair squeaked beneath me. Delacroix pressed the jagged blades of the saw against my throat. I begged him with my eyes to stop.

Time slowed – and then blinding pain struck me as the blade punctured my skin and began to gnaw away my flesh. Bright red blood squirted into the air and spilled down my neck and chest as he cut deeper, while the warm liquid gurgled in my throat and my stomach readied to spew up its contents. I hoped madness would possess me and take my mind with it.

Dear God, save me. Save her.

From outside came the sudden sounds of chaos, alluding to an unearthly brawl. Delacroix rested the saw on the side table and left.

Silence.

I struggled to breathe as the gaping gash in my throat began to heal. The scarlet flow slowed and then receded, and the agonizing spasms dissipated. In the corner lay my discarded jacket. Jacob’s locket was in one of those pockets.

Delacroix returned, dragging Marcus across the floor. Marcus’ spectacles poked out of his tattered shirt pocket.

Get me out of here!

“This is a nightmare,” Marcus whispered.

“One that I control,” Delacroix replied.

Marcus scrambled to his feet and did a doubletake when he noticed the jar.

“He isn’t tied down?” Marcus asked, and then his wide stare shifted to the stake protruding from my side.

“Do you want to see your sister again?” Delacroix handed Marcus the saw.

A rasp escaped my lips.