Page 16 of The October Trials

I try. I really fucking try. I part my lips, but my entire body locks up. Bile surges in my throat, and I jerk back, gagging.

The guard raises his gun and presses the cold muzzle to my forehead. “Every person still breathing must eat, or face Asmodeus’s wrath.”

A hollow feeling consumes me.

Bone-deep, piss-yourself fear.

I can’t die like this.

My breathing accelerates to full speed until every choked breath burns. In the midst of my gasping, he steps out of the crowd, then rips a chunk of flesh from the severed leg with his bare hand.

Before I can react, he grabs me by the throat and drives me backward until my spine slams against the rough bark of an oak tree, hidden just enough away from the main circle.

“Scream,” he mutters under his breath.

I stare at him, chest heaving. “This isn’t time for you to get your little dick hard—”

He stomps down hard on my foot. Son of a bitch. I shriek, loud, my voice breaking and cursing.

Using my mouth opening to his advantage, he shoves two blood-slick fingers deep inside, forcing a gag. I choke around them, tears burning my eyes as he pushes them farther back, all the way to my throat opening.

While I struggle, unable to scream anymore, he lifts his mask ever so slightly and brings the chunk of human flesh to his own mouth and bites down. He eats it. Slowly. His jaw works, throat flexing as he swallows.

I blink at him in pure disbelief. He looked like he… enjoyed it. The taste, the blood, the texture. All of it.

He pulls his fingers from my mouth with a wet pop and wipes the blood across the corner of my lips, almost tenderly, but I must be imagining that part.

Then he drags me back to the circle of devil worshippers by my arm.

“Her fucking crying was pissing me off,” he grumbles. “So I made her eat. We got other shit to move on to.”

Liar.

The Archon stares for a moment, then gives a single nod, clearly amused. “Efficient, boy. As always.”

As the rest of the contestants take their bite, I can barely breathe. My legs feel like water. The worst part is the way his fingers had tasted—metallic, warm, him—it still lingers on my tongue.

“Guards, set the fire to finish the ceremony,” Archon booms. “Contestants, file inside to prepare for round two.”

Shit.

Amid all the chaos, I’d forgotten this is only the end of the first round. The invitation said there were six. If this was merely the appetizer to the night, I’m fucking pissing my pants to find out what the entree looks like.

The group starts filing back toward the manor entrance. Seizing my only chance, I grab the masked man’s wrist before he can walk away.

“Wait,” I whisper. “What’s your name? W-who are you?”

He stops. Tilts his head down at me, those black and gold eye slits unreadable. For a second, I think he won’t answer.

Finally, a low, rough voice slides out from behind the mask.

“Cage Viscount. Commander number one.”

“Vis… So, Archon is—”

He winks, letting me sit in the new revelation while he heads back with the others.

The final guard outside clears his throat. “Inside.”