Page 13 of The Vampire’s Mercy (Blood Melody #1)

CHAPTER TEN

PARIS

Iawoke to the stink of rotting flowers.

By Aidan.

My eyes burned from the glare of a light above me. Queasiness curled sickly hands around me, my chest stinging with toxic agony.

“Shit…” I rasped.

Cold sweat beaded my brow, the rest of me shaking with fever.

The sorrow of rotting flowers infected me, my skin itching as if infested with mites.

I rolled over, adjusting to the light, which shone from a bare bulb swinging from the ceiling.

Sitting up, gagging on the acrid stink and the cloying feel of death, I rubbed my eyes. Where the hell was I? A small room with a bed and a toilet, no windows, metal bars locking me in.

Oh, shit. There were so many decaying blooms scattered around the room. Stuck to the black walls, the ceiling, stuffed under the bed, basically a carpet of death across the floor.

I retched, swallowing vomit.

A cell? A damn prison cell? If my insides weren’t under enough stress already, a fresh dose of anxiety came to join the attack.

I vomited properly, the projection a painful burn up my throat.

In Aidan’s name, I was screwed.

The bulb dimmed, another light flickering on beyond the bars. The vampire king stood beneath it with someone else slightly behind him. They both swam in the watery lens across my vision, the other person just out of the light.

“You’re awake.” Silvanus spoke with alluring frostiness.

I retched again.

“There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

I groaned, desperate for water. “Haven’t got it in me.” A bubble of acid burst in the back of my throat. “Please… Please take these flowers away.”

He responded with a firm, “No.”

“Please…”

“Not until we get to the bottom of something.”

“Then you—”

“Isn’t that right, Hal?”

The world went on pause, nausea taking a coffee break.

What. The. Fuck.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I heard him say.

My instincts kicked in, forcing me to my feet, propelling me at the bars. I grabbed them, immediately sliding to my knees as the force of the dying blooms reclaimed me.

But I kept my head up, my focus on my friend still wearing the glittery black shirt and jeans combo—the uniform for the bar staff at Majestic Moon. His hand were tied behind his back, small cuts all over his face.

He kept his eyes closed.

“Hal,” I breathed. “Please…please don’t hurt him.”

“Like you hurt my friend.” There wasn’t any allure in the coldness of his voice now.

My weak hands managed to tighten on the bars. “She attacked me.”

“And you killed her with an interesting weapon. Tell me about it.”

“I don’t know—”

He drew what looked like an ice pick from beneath his jacket. “Which eye shall I take first?” He pressed the tip to Hal’s cheek.

The mage whimpered, eyes squeezing tighter.

My poor friend. My poor trembling friend. I couldn’t let him suffer because of me.

“Okay, okay,” I said, retching again. “I’ll tell you.”

Silvanus kept the ice pick on Hal.

“Well, it was weird,” I began, going on to explain what’d happened to me on the ice. By the end of it, my throat was so horse I wasn’t sure my voice box would work again.

Damn. Why tell him? Why not lie? It was these blooms. They fucked up my thinking, my capacity to function even a little bit.

But it might spare Hal.

The king nodded, lowering the ice pick. “I see. And you have no idea why this happened?”

I shook my head, bristling with fear.

Aidan, hear my prayer. Don’t let my friend die tonight.

“Now, for you, mage,” he said to Hal.

“I… I…” He opened his eyes, finally looking at me.

My heart jumped into my throat.

Hal blinked, his shoulders sagging with defeat. “What do you want me to say?”

I’d never heard him sound so weak.

Silvanus snared me in his stare. “Do you want to live, Hal?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so. How much?”

Hal didn’t know how to answer.

“Come along now,” the vampire pressed. “Tell me. How much do you want to live?”

Hal’s lips trembled, his eyes closing again. “Very much.”

“Good. Now, tell this elf here what you told me earlier.”

Hal opened his eyes again, facing the king. “But—”

Silvanus pressed the ice pick to his neck. “Or I’ll cut the words out for you.”

I snarled, trying to lift myself to my feet. “You fucking prick.”

Maybe keep your mouth shut!

Hal whimpered again, moving his attention to me. “I told him your name.”

My stomach twisted. “You…did?”

“A pleasure to meet you, Paris Raine,” Silvanus said. “Or should that be Executioner 6710?”

One hand dropped from the bars. I didn’t have a comeback for him, too shocked at the info he had on me already.

The prick must have tortured poor Hal. It was okay, I wouldn’t blame my friend for this. Aidan only knew what I’d do in the same situation.

Aim a kick at his family jewels?

“And?” the king said.

Man, I hated that my friend had aggressive spells at his command that were useless against any vampire. Especially this prick.

Hal sighed, eyes shutting again. “I told him how you… Oh, shite. I’m so sorry, Paris. I…I told him how executioners hide their blood.”

My other hand dropped as I sagged with defeat. This was knowledge the vampire king would now use against us. Find an antidote to the mage potion Suzanne and her team of mages had concocted to shield our blood—a complex formula of spider silk, vampire bone dust, and stewed apples.

Shit, Hal. What were you thinking?

But I still couldn’t be mad. I had no idea what he’d just been through. What threats hung over his head. Another mage group would find a new potion. This wasn’t the end. The rebellion would never die.

“Now, for the best part,” Silvanus said. “The choice.”

“What choice?” I asked, dread arriving with a grim hello.

The vampire smiled, throwing an arm around Hal. “Your dear friend here is going to decide which one of you lives, and which one of you will have his insides ripped out.”

I felt myself pale, gagging once again.

Hal collapsed to his knees, letting out a wail. “Not…” He coughed.

“Kill me,” I said. “Don’t hurt—”

“Paris!” Hal squealed. “Kill Paris! I don’t want to die!”

That was a sharp shock to my body and mind, the rug officially pulled out from beneath me.