Page 108 of Decimation

Fire. He’s what, trying to burn me out?

My breaths comes in shallow, frantic gasps as I creep forward. I need to find Devin. He’s the only thing standing between this nightmare and me.

I round the corner and the world slams into focus. The great hall is a war zone. Overturned furniture lies splintered across the marble floor, a tapestry is already engulfed in flames, and there, in the centre of the chaos, Devin is locked in a brutal struggle. He’s a giant of a man, solid and capable, but the figure he’s grappling with moves with a kind of unholy grace, a dark silhouette I recognise instantly.

It’s the devil himself.

Devin gets a fist loose and slams it into Konstantine’s jaw, a sickening crack that would drop most men. Konstantine barely staggers. Instead, he laughs, with a low, guttural sound that chills my blood. He’s always been too strong, too fast, something monstrous wearing a human skin. I see the glint of a gun in his hand, and before I can scream a warning, he shoves Devin back and pulls the trigger. The shot is deafening. Devin jerks as a dark flower blooms across his chest. He stumbles, clutching the wound, his face a mask of disbelief.

“No!” The word tears out of me like a ragged sob. I know with awful clarity that he’s the only thing standing between me and the devil, that if he dies, I don’t stand a chance.

Konstantine doesn’t even glance my way. He’s on Devin in a flash. The gun drops to the floor with a clatter, and in its place a knife appears, its blade catching the firelight like a hungry grin. He plunges it into Devin’s stomach, once, twice, three times, each thrust accompanied by a wet grunting sound.

Devin’s body convulses, his hands scrabbling uselessly at Konstantine’s arms, and then he goes still, sliding to the floor in a spreading pool of bright red blood.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t move.

I watch as Konstantine straightens, wiping the blade on his thigh with a casual, contemptuous gesture. Then his head swivels, and his eyes find me. Those brown, burning eyes that have haunted my every nightmare. His lips curve into a smile that makes my soul shrivel.

“Wife,” he purrs, and the word is a curse.

I run. God help me, I run.

My feet slap against the cold stone as I flee back into the labyrinth of hallways while behind me. His laughter echoes, unhurried and terrible.

“You can’t hide from me. I’ll always find you.”

The mansion, once a sanctuary, is now a trap. Every door I try is locked or leads to a dead end. The smoke grows thicker, coiling around me, clawing at my throat. My eyes water, my lungs burn. I can hear his footsteps, slow and deliberate, tracking me with the patience of a wolf coming in for the kill.

I duck into a small, disused room, my gaze sweeping wildly for somewhere, anywhere, to hide. There, a heavy armoire in the corner, its doors slightly ajar. It’s pitiful, obvious, but I have nothing else.

I scramble inside, pulling the doors shut behind me, and cram myself into the musty darkness among old coats that smell of mothballs and decay. I clamp my hand over my mouth to stifle my ragged breathing and I pray.

The footsteps stop outside the door. I can hear my own heart beating so loudly it must be audible throughout the entire damned house. A floorboard creaks. The door swings open with a groan. Through the crack in the armoire, I see his silhouette fill the doorway, the flames from the corridor haloing him like a demon rising from hell.

“I can smell you, wife.” His voice is a silky, venomous whisper. “Your fear is such a sweet perfume.”

He takes a step into the room, then another. He’s toying with me, I know that, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I press myself further back, as if I can melt into the wood. I can see the hilt of the knife tucked into his belt, still wet with Devin’s blood.

He stops directly in front of the armoire. A finger taps the door, once, twice. “Boo.”

The doors are wrenched open. Light floods in, blinding me. Before I can even scream, his hand knots in my hair, yanking me out with brutal force. Pain explodes across my scalp, a white-hot flare that sends me crashing to the floorboards. I land hard on my shoulder, crying out, and he uses my hair to drag me across the splintered wood and out into the corridor.

“Let me go!” I shriek, clawing at his wrist.

He releases my hair only to backhand me across the face. The blow snaps my head to the side, filling my mouth with the metallic tang of blood. Stars burst behind my eyes. And as I slump, dazed, he grabs a fistful of my robe, hauling me up to my knees.

“Look at me,” he commands.

I raise my eyes to his face. The firelight carves hollows in his cheeks, glints off the madness dancing in his pupils. He looks almost ecstatic. “All this time I’ve searched for you,” he says, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Hiding from your own husband. Why, hmm? That’s not very wife like…”

“I’m not your wife,” I spit through bloodied teeth. “I’m not your property.”

The blow comes again, a fist this time, smashing into my cheekbone. I feel the bone give a sickening little crack, and I crumple sideways, sobbing. He doesn’t stop. A kick to my ribs drives the air from my lungs. Another to my back sends me sprawling onto my stomach. He’s on me then, straddling my hips, his weight crushing me entirely. His hands find my hair again and he slams my forehead into the floor. Once, twice. I lose count as the world swims in and out of focus, while the taste of blood grows thick on my tongue.

“You’ll learn,” he grunts, his breath hot against the nape of my neck. “I’ll teach you all over again.”