Page 131 of Hateful Prince
I struggled in my bonds, hating his words even as they burrowed their way beneath my skin.
“Ah yes, I can see how much you hate me, but the two of us are more alike than you realize. In fact, you’re a bigger monster than I am. Don’t believe me? Well, just think of it this way. If I’d died that night so long ago, how many people would still be alive today?” He laughed, adopting his playful mimicry of our imaginary conversation once more. “‘But you killed all those people,’ you’d say. To which I’d point out that while I may have been holding the knife, their blood is on your hands because you’re the one who left me alive to kill them. And if you’d simply died like you were supposed to, none of these other deaths would have happened. So really, you’re the Ripper, and I’m just your weapon.”
As if orchestrated by death itself, the clouds parted and the moonlight spilled down onto the altar. Brother Sam looked up, a beatific, psychotic smile splitting his face.
“Ah, showtime. Let’s finish what your father started, shall we?”
I wriggled hard enough that the gag slipped free, and I spat, “What do you think you’re going to accomplish with this stupid ritual? My father was a crazy cult leader. He had no power.”
Face twisting into a sneer, he picked up the gag and forcibly shoved it back into my mouth. “Nah-ah-ah, not a peep from you, please. Women are supposed to be seen and not heard, remember? Not that I suppose it matters, since you won’t be alive much longer. Pity you won’t be around to witness my accession to greatness. You have grown into quite the beauty. You would have made a lovely bride. I would have preferred your virgin blood, as was originally planned, but alas, that ship has already sailed, and I am nothing if not adaptive. How else would I have gone so long without detection?”
In stereotypical serial killer fashion—stereotypes have to come from somewhere—he continued with his monologue. This guy had clearly been waiting a long time for this, and he wanted me to appreciate every single detail of his genius plan.
Icy acceptance coiled in my gut. With every new word he spewed, my fate was becoming more clear. I wasn’t getting out of this. No one was coming to save me. I couldn’t use my scream. I was going to die here.
At least if I died tonight, I knew I would see Hades in his realm. He’d make sure the others knew I loved them. And Asshole would keep me company. That was a nice silver lining. Surely ghosts could still pet Cerberus.
Kiki’s voice hit me in the conscience, hard and judgmental as fuck. What the hell is this? We don’t just roll over and let Ted Bundy kill us. Would you write a heroine that just lay there and died? Fuck no, I’d send that shit straight to the recycle bin. You are better than this. Fight, damn you.
I wanted to argue, but she was right. I still had one card up my sleeve. Better yet, I was in a fucking graveyard. Where there was a graveyard, there were ghosts.
“This might hurt, but this ritual requires copious amounts of your blood.”
That was enough to pull my focus back to him. The dagger glinted silver in the moonlight as he dug the tip of the blade into my arm, starting at my shoulder and dragging it all the way down to my wrist.
Burning pain radiated through me with every tortuous inch. I wanted to jerk my arm away, but that would only do more damage.
“Nearly there. You’re doing remarkably well. Your father must have prepared you for your fate better than I thought.” Moving around to my other side, he placed the blade at the top of my other arm. “One down, one to go. If you’re lucky, you’ll pass out from the pain before we get to your legs.”
Inside my head, I was screaming, the sound bouncing around inside my skull as I trembled from fear and pain. I had to stop this, somehow. He couldn’t win, not after everything I’ve been through.
While he may have been familiar with the supernatural world, he was still just a human man. Maybe I could scare him away with the only power I had that didn’t require my voice.
I’d only tried to summon a spirit once, so I had absolutely no way of knowing that this would work, but I had to try. It was my only chance.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I pictured my vengeful spirit. She was the strongest ghost I’d encountered and clearly connected to me. Maybe this was why.
“Please. Come to my aid. If you help me now, I promise I will help you. Please. Please, come.”
It wasn’t my best work, but it was honest and I was desperate, and that was all I had to go off of. I didn’t know exactly what it was I said or did that summoned Nautica’s spirit, but it had to be tied to my need. And there’d never been a moment in my life when I’d been more in need than this one. That had to count for something.
Agony ripped down my arm as he dragged the dagger with deliberate slowness, my limbs already feeling heavy and cold from blood loss. My heart sank as the familiar buzz of a spirit’s presence never arrived, but I kept trying. Kept calling out.
“Raise them, Dahlia. Raise your army.” The sweet voice whispered across my skin, in my ear, causing my eyes to pop open.
Turning my head slowly, I came face to face with the lovely blonde I’d seen so long ago during this very same ritual. She hadn’t aged a day. And once again, here she was, trying to save me.
Was she my guardian angel?
My eyes shifted to where Sam was gleefully running his fingers through the blood pooling beneath me. He hadn’t noticed her, which meant he probably couldn’t see her since she was less than a yard away from him. She had to be some kind of ghost.
“Raise your army, Dahlia. Now, before it’s too late.”
My army? Oh shit, my army. I didn’t need ghosts to stop him. I had bodies at my disposal. I could raise the undead. I’d proven it by making Nautica into a zombie. With every ounce of strength and power remaining, I called to them, no longer begging, but commanding.
The ground began to shake as I sent my intention into the earth.
“Yes! She’s coming. She hears me! Hel, I am your faithful servant.” Sam cried, head thrown back, dagger raised and dripping with my blood.