Page 23

Wrath

It’s blurry, too fucking blurry, as if the world’s been smeared in ash. Everyone around me is a shadow, faceless, dark, whispering things I can’t understand.

I try to make sense of where I am, whose voices are bleeding into my skull, before I look down at my hands.

Small. Bloody. Shaking. Not mine, but mine.

And then I see her.

She’s suddenly there beneath me. Pale. Naked. Motionless. Her long black hair spills across the floor like ink leaking from a corpse.

I can’t see her face, my mind won’t let me, but Iknowit’s her. I know it in the kind of way nightmaresknowthings before they show them.

My lips part to speak, to scream, but a voice slithers into my ear, breath hot, venomous:

“Do it.”

Male and evil. But familiar in the way decay smells familiar in the dark.

The air turns to ice, but sweat pours off me, dripping from my hair, stinging my eyes.

My limbs don’t listen to me, a fucking puppet-strung and possessed, and I move without will, lowering myself between her legs, shame strangling me as I fight from the inside, clawing to wake the fuck up.

And all I can do is watch as I tug myself free, seconds from fucking her corpse.

Until my vision suddenly sharpens, too sharp, and her face finally comes into focus.

It’s Aurelia.

But not alive. Not even close.

She’sdead and decaying. A corpse.

Maggots squirm through torn flesh, burrowing into the soft meat of her cheeks. Her lips are cracked open in a silent scream, her skin the colour of rot.

I flinch back, eyes wide, choking on a breath that won’t come.

“DO IT!”

The voice bellows, almost demonic now and it rips through me like barbed wire, my spine locking straight.

Then, her eyes snap open. But they’re hollow and empty. She starts shouting words I can’t make out, deep, fast and hellish.

When a scream tears out of her throat, shrill and unearthly, piercing straight through my head, I scream too, my voice no longer mine—high, innocent,helpless.

And then, flames.

Her bodyerupts into an inferno, fire swallowing her whole, and before I can even think to run, it consumes me too, searing through my skin, straight through my soul, dragging me down into a sudden black hole.

My eyes snap open, heart slamming against my ribs as I stare up at Aurelia’s ceiling, chains still swaying softly above me. I don’t breathe, just listen, sweat slicking my skin before I swiftly sit up.

Swinging my legs off the side of the bed, I plant my elbows on my knees, head dropping into my cut hands, running my fingers through my hair.

That dream, no, thatfucking warning, is still in my brain, refusing to fuck off. My nightmares had eased after I met Aurelia. After I let her in.

But It was her.

It was her .

Behind me, I feel movement as Aurelia stirs, soft and quiet, shifting in her sleep and when I glance over my shoulder, she rolls onto her back, eyes still closed, peaceful.

The sheet dips over her perky tits, exposing the marks I left behind, purple bruises and red bites, a roadmap of what the fuck I did to her last night. What she let me do.

I think back to all the times I’ve almost killed her, and how fucking precious she’s become for me to lose. I can’t keep pretending this is nothing. I need to figure this shit out. I need to stop whatever the fuck this is before I cross a line I can’t uncross and go too far.

Quietly, I stand, dragging on my jeans before buckling my belt.

“You’re going already, circus boy?” her sleepy voice slips through the silence behind me.

When I turn, her eyes are just starting to open, lashes fluttering as she stretches, arms above her head. She looks like sin dressed in silk and bruises.

I lean down, pulling open the drawer beside the bed, finding a pen and a scrap of paper. My hand moves without hesitation, writing the only thing I can give her right now.

I kneel back on the bed, turning the note for her to read.

I’ll see you soon, Allure. I’ve got some things to do.

She nods once, and I start scribbling again.

Wonna tell me why your clothes were covered in some motherfucker’s blood last night?

The second she reads the words, she jolts up onto her elbows, panic in her eyes as they lock with mine.

“What?” she breathes, but she knows exactly what the fuck I’m talking about.

I raise a brow, staring her down, waiting and watching, but she gives me nothing.

A growl rises in my throat, my frustration biting deep, but I lean over, catching her mouth in a kiss that’s more force than affection, teeth scraping lips.

Then I pull back, ready to walk out, but her hands clamp down on my shoulders, holding me in place.

“I’ll tell you soon, okay?” she whispers, and I pause, searching her eyes like they might give me more than her voice will.

Eventually, I ease back. Yeah, she fucking will. Actually, she doesn’t have a choice.

I grab my leather jacket, sliding it on, then shoot her a wink on my way out. Not because I’m not pissed. But so she knows I’m not done.

Once I’m out of that suffocating trailer, I head straight to Madame’s chamber. She’s the only person around here who might have some fucking answers on all this nightmare or voodoo shit.

She’s into all that mysterious stuff and to be honest, it never even crossed my mind to go to her. Not until now because I seem fucking desperate and Aurelia’s in my life.

As soon as I step into the Cirque, the familiar musty air greets me, but then my phone buzzes and I freeze, confusion creeping in.

Why the fuck is someone calling me? I don’t use my voice. Everyone knows never to call me unless you want a beast breathing heavily down the fucking phone.

I yank the phone from my pocket, my fingers tightening around it as I stare down at the screen. Valen’s name blinks across it, like a red flag and my jaw tightens, anger simmering as I watch the call end on its own, but seconds later, a text pops up.

I feel the bitterness in my mouth, sharp and foul. The bastard hasn’t set foot into Dark Night for years. The last time he came here, he carved through the place with a fucking chainsaw, leaving bodies in his wake. It pissed The Shadows off more than anyone realized. And now? Now, he wants answers. He wants to come to Oddity and demand answers? From me? Fuck off.

It’s just another dirty pile mess I don’t need on my plate right now.

I growl, shoving the phone back into my pocket with a vicious motion, feeling agitated more than usual. It’s probably because I need to drain my balls, deep inside my little corpse.

When I step into the room, Madame is seated behind her desk and the moment her eyes lift, landing on me, she double takes like she’s seeing a ghost walk past the curtain.

Her surprise is obvious. It’s carved into the subtle widening of her dark eyes. She knows I don’t show up unless I’m dragging something heavy behind me.

Unlike Hell and Soul, I’m the one who keeps to the dark. The one who speaks through violence or silence. I might respect her, I might even see her as blood in a world where that means nothing, but I don’t come knocking without reason.

“Wrath,” she exhales my name as I stop dead center in the room.

My fingers twitch, clenching once, then slowly unfurling, the only thing I’ll give. She notices, then gestures to the worn chair in front of her desk.

I lower myself into the seat, the wood groaning beneath my weight and she mirrors me, sinking back into hers, but her eyes don’t leave me as she slides an old, scorched piece of parchment paper and a quill toward me.

I lean in, scribble across it in sharp, impatient strokes, then turn it around for her to read.

I fuck dead women.

Madame reads it, her eyes moving slowly over my messy scrawl and when she looks up, there’s no surprise on her face.

“I know, Wrath,” she says flatly. “You’ve been here since you were a child. People talk.”

I look away for a second, jaw tight before I continue

I can’t seem to stop it. And I think it’s from my nightmares. It’s connected to something.

Her interest sharpens, and this time, her gaze snaps to mine, but there’s no fear in her, just a curiosity in the weight of what I just told her.

She leans back slowly, folding her hands in her lap. “Tell me more,” she murmurs, her tone calm and coaxing, “and take your time.”

I explain the nightmares, what I saw in the most recent one, how it was Aurelia, and

when I’m finished, she leans in without hesitation, scanning every jagged word I’ve carved into the paper.

Her dark eyes flick up to mine afterward, and there’s something sharper in them now, it’s as if she’s not just seeing me, but what’s beneath me too.

“It feels like a warning,” she mutters, voice low with suspicion.

She pauses, visibly uneasy and her fingers drum the desk once before she clears her throat, and suddenly she looks less like Madame, and more like someone who’s known me since I was too small to fight back.

“Have you…” she hesitates, her voice lower now, wary. “Been fully intimate with Aurelia yet?”

I shake my head once, then pick up the pen and scribble.

I’ve nearly killed her twice while having fun. But I haven’t fucked her pussy yet.

Her brows lift, and she takes a hard swallow, clearly unsettled by what I’ve just admitted.

“So, you’re fighting your impulses?” she asks.

I nod once and for a second, she just watches me, trying to read something.

“Although you carry a heavy darkness, Wrath, probably the darkest at Oddity, naturally,” she finally murmurs, standing and drifting toward her shelves of old stones and relics, “there’s nothing that screams danger… not yet.”

She trails her fingers over the edge of a crystal. “But… something could be masking it. If it’s spiritual. If it’s old. If it’s dark or if it’s waiting.”

Her hand hovers over them before she plucks one from the shelf.

“Or this could be trauma... Deep-rooted trauma.”

I lean forward, scribbling on the paper while she watches and when I finish, she strides over, peering down at my words.

I’d never met Aurelia before she came here.

She tilts her head slightly, thinking it over, her eyes narrowing.

“Aurelia has intense dark energy. Something I’ve never sensed in anyone before. But I can’t read it. It’s blocked.”

My brows furrow as she sits down and starts preparing, lighting candles, incense and whatever else she can find. Then she moves across the room, drawing the curtains with a swift pull before flipping off the light. Shadows spill over everything, flickering with the candle flames as she returns to me.

She stands behind me, and I catch the glint of scissors in her hand just a second too late.

Snip.

A lock of my hair falls, and I jerk away, turning to glare at her.

“I don’t usually do this,” she murmurs, ignoring my stare, “but it could help if you’re willing to feel it. And believe it.”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, as she walks back to her desk.

“I can try to cast a spell,” she continues. “One I’ve read about before. The Night Awakening . But I’m no practiced witch, so I can’t be sure it will work.”

I just stare at her, wondering if she’s lost it, but honestly, what fucking choice do I have?

“If what I think is happening is true,” she says, her tone calm, “this will bring your nightmares into focus. If they’re not just dreams, but memories hidden and twisted by time or trauma, this will strip the noise away. No Aurelia. No shadows. Just the truth. Raw and vivid. The day it all began.”

“I feel like Aurelia is just a facade,” she continues softly, eyes narrowing. “Because you’re changing for her. And whatever’s got power over your dreams… it doesn’t like that. It’s pushing back, hard. It’s using her as your weakness because it wants you to stay exactly who you’ve always been.”

She takes a breath, gaze steady on mine.

“The best thing you can do now is keep rebelling. If she’s what you really want, hold onto that. But Wrath, when, and if, the spell clears your nightmares, know they’ll only stop haunting you when you face them. When youownthem. And the only way out is through. Free yourself by making it right… whateveritis.”

She takes a black bowl, fills it with water, drops the hair in, some herbs and other stuff, then she takes a needle, and leans over, wanting my hand.

I lift it, and she glances at the lettering sliced into my palm before she pricks my finger. She pulls me forward until the drop of blood lands in the water, curling outward.

Then a chant crawls from her lips like something ancient’s been waiting to be spoken again.

“Blood to bone, and soul to thread.

Darkness wake what once was dead.

From dream to ash, from hurt to flame,

Show him now from where it came.

Unmask the face, undo the bind.

Bring the truth into his mind.”

Her voice changes halfway through, dipping into something guttural and her eyes roll back, whites glowing in the low firelight as her head tips toward the ceiling.

The flame on the center candle snaps upward in a straight line, no flicker, just a solid stretch of heat, like something invisible is pulling it tight. I watch it carefully, eyes narrowed until suddenly, it waves again.

Madame sways, catching herself on the desk, and then drops into her chair. Her eyes come back gradually, and when they do, they’re heavy.

“It should be in motion now,” she whispers. “You won’t know when it’s coming. But it will. The dream may hit when it wants to.”

I nod once, suspicious of what the fuck has just happened. Then I stand, the chair scraping beneath me, and without another look, I turn and walk out of her chamber.

When I step out of the Cirque, Soul’s pushing his way out of our trailer, pulling his hood over his white-blonde, wavy hair. I yank a cigarette from my pocket, flick my zippo open, and light it with a quick snap, dragging in a deep hit. He sees me striding toward him, eyes narrowing, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Fuck me, you look more pissed than usual. You only smoke when shit’s gone way off the rails.”

I raise an eyebrow, fighting the urge to bite back.

What you doing today? I sign quickly, fingers sharp in the air.

Nothing. Why? Where the fuck were you last night? Actually, where you been the last couple of nights?

His hands move, fast and steady, but there’s an edge to his question. He’s probing like a nosey motherfuck, and it grates against my skin.

My jaw clenches, the muscles in my face tensing as my thoughts spiral to Aurelia.

Wonna kidnap some people? I sign, throwing the question out like a dare.

He gives a shrug, tilting his head like he’s weighing the idea, but his hands come up quick with his answer.

Sure. Why the fuck not?

His neon green eyes glint like he’s already imagining the chaos we’re about to cause.

A fucking menace.