Page 11 of Bloody Black

I flail frantically, shivering. “Who’s there?” My voice wobbles.

The silence is oppressive, a sodden weight wrapped around me. Seconds tick by as I wait for a reply. When I’ve nearly given up, the voice speaks again.

“A victim, like you. Locked in this chest and left for dead.”

I reach forward, left and right, up and down, and feel nothing but my own body. Just the confines of the velvet walls.

No one else.

This is not reassuring.

My nails scrape against the top of the chest, digging furrows into its cloth. “Let me out!” I cry. “Someone, please, let me out!”

The creature, whatever it is, hisses. The stench of sulfur fills the air.

“You can’t get out. The chest is charmed and hexed… no one can hear. You will die, just as I did. ”

“You don’t seem dead to me,” I tell her. Perhaps I’m imagining all of it, the lack of air affecting my thinking.

“I am Rokhur.”

Rokhur. The name of an immortal demon, often confused with a wraith. Hard to catch, impossible to fight… she would die, but resurrect. Whoever put her in this chest must have been powerful indeed.

“If you’re a demon, why can’t you escape?”

“Part of my punishment is discorporation, cleaving my soul and physical self apart. I am little more than mist. I have waited an eternity for someone to free me, someone with will and strength.”

“How would they free you if you cannot free yourself?”

The gravelly voice laughs, and it sounds like glass cracking. Something near my ear clicks, and I jerk away, the pain nearly making me cry out.

“I only require a vow, a promise of future aid.”

“If I did that, what would I receive?”

“My help.”

As faint as I feel, her answer arouses a flicker of interest. Could Rokhur be a true demon? One of the only foes that my father was afraid of? Certainly, one of those would be strong enough to take down a mortal man like William.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“To leave this musty prison, same as you.”

“What would it cost me? A soul?”

Her laugh is a breath of heat that smells of sulfur. “I require a body. I am content enough with my own soul, shadowy though it may be. ”

“Whose body?” Mine is broken. Used. Surely she wouldn’t want that.

“Oh, anyone will do. I make the best of what’s available.”

I learned from my father never to bargain. The same rules most certainly apply to a mysterious voice locked in a cursed trunk. I don’t know if she even is a demon, or something else. I can’t see anything.

And as far as I can tell, the only body within reach is, well, me.

I hammer on the lid, which is still sealed tight and locked. “Help! Help!”

I dig where I think the lock would be, forcing my fingers into the gap between velvet and wood… but it doesn’t give. There’s not even a crack of light, a breath of air. I feel every corner, every seam. Hoping for a weak spot.

But there is nothing.

Why are you hesitating? The demon is your best hope of escape. Without her help, you are doomed.

Dying.

Based on what I’d seen, William and his men had deceived my father so thoroughly that they’d been welcomed into the heart of the castle.

Hell, my father and Ben had given them the keys.

Every word, every swear of fealty… all lies.

All masterfully orchestrated and carefully delivered over years.

My father hadn’t known, hadn’t even guessed at the depths of their treachery. And neither had I.

But I was so tired. Broken, bleeding.

As if she had heard my thoughts, Rokhur says: “If it is peace you want, go ahead and die. But if you seek vengeance, say yes. Say ‘yes’, and unleash your wrath against those who betrayed you. ”

I could hardly think anymore, lightheaded from the lack of air.

Accept. Accept.

Still, I hesitated. Her words sound like a steel-toothed trap. On the other hand, what alternative did I have? Stay in the trunk? I don’t want to die here. Buried, forgotten… with William crowned king.

“With my help, you shall rage against those who have wronged you. Together, we’ll make them pay.” Her voice was quiet, but powerful.

“If I don’t set you free, you will die here, locked in this trunk for all eternity.”

“What will they do with me?” I pause in my weak struggles.

“They’ve put you on board a ship and hidden the trunk in its hold. Once they discover you, they’ll simply throw you overboard, leaving you to rest at the bottom of the sea.” Her voice sounds like curtains moving in the breeze. “But not to worry. You’ll be dead long before then.”

I close my eyes. Sleepy. I’m so sleepy.

If I say yes, the demon will take my body. She’ll get us out of the trunk, and then I’m sure she’ll deceive me. Do I really have a choice?

My head rolls to the side. With my very last breath, I agree.

It’s not clear to me how long I’m asleep.

But what wakes me is a low humming, a vibration that stirs my bones. And heat—the temperature has climbed sharply. Crimson creeps across the velvet, burning my fingertips where they clawed at the lid.

Red mist wraps around my body, and I curl inward, trying to protect myself, but it pulls me, stretches me out wide, arms taut. I can’t stop screaming.

Mostly, because I can finally see what she looks like. Red mist, even redder eyes, a horned demon without much of a body. Semi-transparent, like a flame flickering. Just a few inches from my face.

“Our pact must be sealed,” she purrs, her tongue caressing my ear like an oily ribbon. A deep crackling follows, and shadows seethe over my skin, clutching at my throat.

Unable to scream or speak, my eyes fill with bloody tears. I stare up toward heaven, and our bargain is carved into my skin. Swirls of black form over my throat, my chest, my heart.

I’m dying. I’m dying. I’m—

Invisible blades slash my skin, and it feels as if shards of glass are drawn down my throat.

Above me, the mist of Rokhur takes form, swirling, her shape flickering between human and monstrous. Her palms glow white, like twin moons, as she holds them above me.

The demon uses me to press upon the lid of the chest, a dull pop as it explodes outward in a burst of splinters. Men begin screaming around us, but I’m not able to see them. My eyes won’t move—so all I’m able to view is the sky overhead, where gray clouds twist like ropes, writhing into a vortex.

And it’s while I’m lying there, frozen, suspended in time, that lightning strikes me. Strikes me, in a flash of white, setting every corner of my flesh ablaze. The demon’s laugh is torn away by the wind.

I’m in a nightmare. A nightmare, and it will never end… My body falls, spinning and reeling, down toward the deck. Like a dream, I careen toward the ending. Bright white, bright white. All around me. I blink.

Every part of my body is hot, as if I’ve been asleep in the sun. Under me, I can feel movement. A boat bobbing.

I sit up, staring around me.

I’m on the deck of a ship. An empty ship, squarely in the middle of the sea.

My throat aches as my fingers trace over raised skin. Burn marks, because I’ve been branded by devil’s fire.

Rokhur stands above me, an indeterminate bundle of red and black mist. Her eyes burn crimson, and cold tendrils of her stroke against my face.

Confused, I stare up at her. “I’m alive.”

“Hardly. You’re still dead. But at least you are free.” She extends a red tendril to pull me to my feet.

“Oh.” I’m still dazed. Part of me doesn’t believe her. Dead? Me?

Rokhur cracks her teeth, and it sounds like eggs being thrown on stone. “I’ve brought you back from death, but only temporarily. Just for your revenge. You’ll still die again, eventually. ”

My fingers flex, opening and closing my hands. They are pale, paler than I’ve ever been. Other than that, and the burn on my neck, I seem to be as I once was. I’ve been healed from my ordeal on the pier.

Something inside me thrums. A foreign pulse. Something profoundly other .

Seeing my questioning gaze, Rokhur smiles. “You’ll bear my mark until our bargain is fulfilled.”

After that? I don’t have the opportunity to ask, because the demon continues.

“The magic keeping you alive binds us. If you should betray me…”

I wouldn’t dream of doing that. I know better. Not even kings violate their contracts with magical beasts.

“The collar on your neck gives power and protection, magic beyond your comprehension. I am not quite sure of the effects it will have on your human body.”

I laugh awkwardly. “Magic? I wouldn’t know what to do with such a thing.”

“Consider it a wedding present.” Rokhur walks away, toward the wheel. The helm. We are on a ship, though I have no idea how we got here. The dock was gone. We are nowhere near land–in fact, we appear to be in the middle of the ocean, on a slave frigate.

There’s no snow. In fact, the temperature is balmy.

Tropical. Just as I’m about to ask about that, I notice what lies at my feet.

Littered all around us are pieces–human body parts.

Shards of men lie everywhere, a hand here, a foot there, half of an eyeball peering up at me.

My bare feet leave footprints all over the deck as I trek through their blood.

Regret washes over me. They were dead, every last man.

“What happened here?” I ask, furrowing my brow. “Did you do this?”

“You’ll recall I said I needed a body. For that, I need pieces.” The red mist in front of me scooped an arm off the ground, studied it, then tossed it aside.

“I thought you would possess someone.” Like me.

She laughed. “If only it were that simple.”

Rokhur bends low, her bony fingers snapping a hand from a bloodied wrist, fitting it awkwardly to her own.

It twitches, then stills, as red mist seeps into the joints and sinew form between jagged breaks.

The fingers then undulate unnaturally, curling inward as if reluctant to obey their new master.

“Flesh must be paid for, piece by piece,” she murmurs, her crimson eyes flaring.

“The price is blood. If someone does not agree to give me themselves, I must make do.”

I look around at the bodies littering the ship deck. “Is that why you murdered them?”

Rokhur makes a small shifting motion, and it might have been a shrug. “With ease. Without regret.”

“But these men were innocent.”

The demon laughs. “How easily you assume, Princess. You’ve already forgotten your lesson.”

My face pales as I watch her torso form, ribs fusing to her spine with a squelch.

I turn my face, bile rising in my throat as a dismembered head lolls past my toes, its mouth frozen mid-scream and its glassy eyes fixed on nothing.

Rokhur’s bony fingers snatch it up, twisting it until the skull cracks and her crimson mist sinks into the fractures .

It isn’t quite what I bargained for, this carnage and death. Horrified, I bite down on my knuckle. Finally, I manage: “Exactly how long will this process take?”

“As long as it must,” she hums, sliding a stolen leg into place with a sickening pop. “Art requires patience. Blood and bone are my ink; suffering my parchment.”

While she works, my eyes dart to anywhere else but her. The well-worn deck. The mast. The railing, where some of the wooden spires are missing. The slack sails overhead, stitched with black thread. Each time there’s a noise, I flinch, grimace, and remind myself not to throw up.

“What is this ship?” I ask finally. It seemed ancient, like it would barely stay afloat. “Did you steal it?”

“It’s called The Flying Rose . I’ve borrowed it. Without intention of return.”

In my kingdom, we’d call that ‘stealing’, I almost quip, then clamp my lips closed just in time.

And it was good that I did, because if I’d been talking, I might have missed the small sound from below my feet. A thud, and a cry for help, followed by a groan.

“What was that?” I turn toward Rokhur.

Half her face is still missing its flesh. The rest of her is an absurd patchwork of skin, her naked body a multi-colored blanket of mismatched fingers and tattooed forearms, a graying knee forming one breast. She is the most morbid of puzzles, built from the ruin of men.

Her crimson eyes meet mine. Nowhere near human, they glow like dying embers– yet the look in them is sympathetic.

“There are women chained in the belly of this boat. The crew you feel so sorry for have been taking turns with them. I’m sure they’ll be happy to show their gratitude by naming you their Captain.”

Taking turns with them.

Suddenly, I have a lot less care for the dead men scattered at my feet. “I see.”

Silence hangs between us as I study Rokhur in a new light.

After a long pause, I accept it. “Come on then. Grab yourself a cloak and we’ll go let them out.”