Page 5 of Crimson Devotion (The Sacred Seven #1)

FIVE

Faith

The next while feels like an eternity passes, though, in reality, it’s been perhaps twenty seconds.

Ophelia’s eyes don’t return to normal; if anything, they darken a shade.

I didn’t think it’d be possible, given the shade of black, but it’s as though I’m staring into a black hole, the darkest abyss.

I swallow around a knot that formed in my throat, a couple of sweat droplets rolling down my forehead. Hesitantly, I step backward, but she follows suit, taking one step forward for each of mine. She’s expressionless, and I’m not sure if I’m even encountering the Ophelia I met.

With a deep breath, I steel myself for the inevitable.

I came here looking for answers, and despite the fact that Ophelia wasn’t the one who killed my parents, someone left that bracelet there on purpose. It was positioned right on my mother’s dead body, on her lap. If it were an accident, the killer would’ve seen it happen.

Ophelia is the key to the puzzle, the missing piece. I’m not dying here like a pathetic bitch, when I was the one who came here with the bravery of a thousand men, as if I had an entire army backing me up.

My eyes close for a moment, gathering the last bits of courage I definitely need right now. When I open them, I know that Ophelia can see determination written all over my face, the desire to live, to see another day. Her head cocks to the side as an amused smile lingers on her lips.

I don’t give her a chance to say a word, quickly grabbing my backpack and running out of the library.

She’s faster than me by a lot, and that she can catch up with me before I take another breath, but she won’t.

If I’ve understood one thing about Ophelia since meeting her officially two hours ago, it’s that she loves playing games, whether it be mental or physical ones.

My feet carry me out the narrow corridor, going in the direction I originally came from.

The torches on the wall flicker as I run past them, my shadow seemingly massive.

My heart thumps in my chest, fear creeping its way into my veins.

It’s insane. I’m fucking insane for even coming here.

I should’ve listened to Yvonne and stayed put.

I don’t know how long I’m running through the castle, but she’s somewhere near. She’s taking immense pleasure in being the cat in this game, and I’m her little mouse, confined in the trap she deliberately prepared for me.

How she managed to ruin Yvonne’s necklace is beyond me.

As the oldest witch alive, and the true immortal of this world, Yvonne’s strength is beyond that of the Sacred Seven.

Unless she sabotaged me on purpose, but I don’t see her doing that.

Yvonne may be a cunt from time to time, but if she wanted me dead, she’d kill me herself, then gloat to everyone about it.

I shake my head, pushing the thoughts to the back of my head, and focusing on escaping this madness.

Deep, bone-chilling laughter fills my surroundings, bouncing off the walls.

Goosebumps appear all over my skin, the small hairs on my neck standing up straight.

My heart picks up the pace, and I’m scared it will leap straight out of my chest.

I’m slowly getting tired. I don’t know how long I’ve been running, but the halls seem never-ending. They’re more or less the same, with a couple of things separating them. However, I haven’t been here long enough to understand what the small differences meant, and I know they mean something.

My lungs spread wide open when I reach the entrance of the castle, the very same sight I’ve seen when I first encountered Ophelia. The wind blows my hair out of my face, my body shuddering. I’m sweaty, and combined with the harshness of the weather, I’m getting chills.

“Did you run enough, little hunter?”

I jolt, spinning around to face Ophelia. She’s leaning against the wall, a wineglass in her hand. Her eyes are back to normal, and I see her palm has healed entirely. My eyes drift back to the liquid in the glass, and I can tell it’s not wine.

It’s blood.

“You let me run away.’’

“Run off,’’ she corrects. “I did not let you run away, because you’re still on the premises, aren’t you?”

My teeth clatter together when I clench them, the force of it creating an irritating sound. Ophelia merely lifts an eyebrow, that same amused smirk tugged on the corner of her lips.

“Why?” The question slips from my lips, coming out as a demand.

Ophelia steps closer to me, swirling the blood in her glass, then takes a sip of it. Her long, slender fingers curl around the stem, and even that act is as elegant as can be. Her throat bobs when she swallows, and my eyes stay glued to the movement.

“Because it’s fun.’’ She chuckles, looking at me over the rim of the glass. “You’re adorable, Faith. You think you can escape me, and that’s the highest form of entertainment I could’ve asked for. Let me make one thing straight, little hunter.’’

The silence doesn’t last long. The glass shatters next to her feet when she drops it, the remaining blood pooling next to her feet. In an instant, her hand is wrapped around my throat, my back slammed against the pillar behind me.

I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent a cry of pain from coming out, the sound of my back cracking echoing around us.

Her face is dangerously close to mine, and I have to blink a couple of times to remove the haze from my vision.

The bitch knocked me against the stone with more force than needed, as if she wanted to prove the point of being stronger.

I gasp for air pathetically, her fingers tightening the grip around my throat. Wrapping my hand around her wrist, my nails dig into her flesh, but she doesn’t even flinch. Her upper lip quirks up, annoying me further.

“Let me go,’’ I hiss, my voice breaking. My confidence is long gone, though I pretend it’s still there. Ophelia sees right through the facade, shaking her head with something I can only describe as dark amusement.

“No, I don’t think I will,’’ she murmurs, her voice saccharine. Her warm breath fans my lips, and I freeze, unable to move. My hand drops from her wrist, eyes glued on her bloody red ones. She inches forward, taking a big intake of breath from the crook of my neck.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, tone filled with uncertainty, a doubt that I cannot quite place. My heart starts beating faster, and I’m sure she can hear it. But it’s not quite fear — it’s something deeper, more sinister than mere terror.

“You smell sinful, little hunter,’’ she croons felicitously, her tongue darting to flick over my skin. Heat pools in the pit of my stomach, and if I looked hard enough, I’d probably be able to see the outline of my heart against my chest, from the way it’s beating furiously.

“Ophelia,’’ I warn, though it falls flat.

She releases something between a hiss and a moan, my eyes widening slightly.

Her hand’s still holding my throat in a vise grip, but her hand starts shaking, and I don’t know how to react.

It’s the perfect opportunity lift my knee up and hit her.

It might not cause any damage, but it should be enough to knock her off balance for long enough for me to remove the hand on my throat.

Yet, I can’t bring myself to do it.

“The way you say my name so sweetly, so sinisterly alluring, makes it hard to control myself around you, little hunter.’’

Shivers run down my spine, my head falling against the wall behind me. Ophelia’s free hand comes to brush a strand of my hair that falls on the crook of my neck, brushing it backward.

“Ophelia—’’

Words get cut off my tongue when I feel a sharp pain piercing through the sensitive flesh on the crook of my neck.

A gut-wrenching scream falls from my ears, the pain causing my body to recoil.

My vision gets blurry, and in all my years as a hunter, I’ve never felt pain so strong, so vicious, yet so tragically addictive.

Her canine teeth slice through my flesh, deep enough to leave a lasting scar, her tongue trying to soothe the aching skin around it. It doesn’t help — the pain becomes too much for me to bear.

My body is shaking, tears are streaming down my cheeks, falling onto her hand that’s wrapped tightly around my throat. The sensation of Ophelia sucking the blood out of my body leaves me feeling dizzy, my body barely withstanding the intensity of the act.

Just when I think it can’t get any worse — it does.

My screams are muffled by something much more prominent, more aching. My head throbs, and my vision spins. A wail comes from the depths of my throat, hoarse and raw, almost vulnerable.

The inside of my body starts hurting in ways I never thought possible, and I can feel every fucking organ trying to fight it, to withstand the torture forced upon me.

Even in the state of delirium, the pain doesn’t cloud my judgement too much. Well, at least enough for me to realize that Ophelia isn’t just sucking my blood — she’s inserting her venom, too.

It lasts for what feels like an eternity, my body getting numb. Throat dry and chest tight, my eyes sting from the combination of tears, and the harsh wind that blows straight into my face.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to breathe, and I’m powerless against Ophelia’s viciousness.

It’s starting to swallow me whole, dark dots appearing in my vision.

I pant, short, ragged breaths managing to slip through.

My body’s not quite ready to give up fighting, although I’m getting increasingly close to it.

Then, it’s as if lightness peeks through the dark clouds, forcing its way in. Ophelia’s teeth leave me, and she takes several steps backward, stumbling a little. My blood drips from her chin, her lips coated in the crimson liquid.

I slump down to my knees, hand immediately flying to the wound on my neck. When I feel the two holes, I shiver, gathering any remaining strength I have left to lift my head up and look at her.

Ophelia looks as if she’s seen a ghost.

Her eyes are filled with something I cannot name, looking ridiculously close to fucking fear. Her body is trembling, and it’s not something I’ve ever seen.

Sure, vampires shake in ecstasy when they get high on blood, when they take a little more than they can take. But their eyes are always filled with excitement, and the state mirrors that of a human high on marijuana.

But this?

This is entirely different.

She wipes the blood on the back of her sleeve, smearing it along her chin and cheeks. Her eyes are glued to my trembling hand, holding the wound. It’s like she’s waiting for something to happen, and I don’t have it in me to start questioning it.

“No,’’ she whispers, her lip trembling. She remains in the same spot, frozen in time. She’s not even breathing, holding it all in while staring at me, unmoving, not blinking.

Suddenly, something happens.

From the corner of my eye, I see the wound glowing. My hand immediately drops, and I hate that I don’t have a mirror on me to see what’s happening. All I can see is a bright, soft gold glow emitting from the wound on my neck, and immediately, my body feels lighter.

The ache disappears, and all the pain and agony Ophelia put me through not even a minute earlier. The shaking of my insides stops, the flow of my blood continuing as if she didn’t just drink a whole liter. My breathing evens out, and for some odd reason, I’m at peace.

Nothing hurts. My ears are no longer ringing, and I’m no longer afraid.

Most people would compare this to the feeling of dying. But it’s not dying — it’s as if I’ve just started a new life, to be someone, or something completely new.

“This can’t be happening,’’ Ophelia shrieks, falling to her knees, her long hair touching the ground. “Not to me. Not with you.’’

Before I can ask her what the fuck she’s talking about, my eyes start closing. I can’t fight it — the desire to sleep is too great.

The last thing I see before succumbing is a lone tear dripping down Ophelia’s cheek, the crimson shade forever engraved in my brain.