Sacrifice Me: The Complete Season One (42 page)

“I spent the better part of the day crafting
these special potions to give us all heightened senses and clarity,”
I said. “Their magic is strong, but the effects won't last
long. Two hours at most. Let's pray to the gods we don't need more
time than that to put an end to the Devil's plans. Some of you will
have to share yours, which will give you even less time. I wasn't
expecting such an amazing turnout, but I am grateful to each of you
for being here.”

“Cheers,” Mordecai said, lifting his
red vial into the air.

“Here's to conquering evil,” Mary Anne
said. “One devil at a time.”

Everyone raised their vials to their lips and
drank of the potions I'd prepared.

I passed out the rest of the vials from the second
satchel. These were mostly bombs and weapons, illusions and tricks.
I'd grabbed anything that might be useful in a fight, knowing that
even with the thirty of us gathered here, we would still be massively
outnumbered.

When everyone was ready, I opened the front door
and stared out at the rocky cliffs.

Here's to first love
, I thought as I downed
my own potion and flew into the darkness.

Never in all my centuries of life had I ever
thought of myself as a demon who deserved love. And never had I
wanted so badly to have the chance to tell her how desperately I
loved her back.

I struggled against sleep, my head pounding. I
forced my eyes open. Every inch of my body ached, and darkness
threatened to pull me under once more.

I pushed back, refusing to become its slave. I was
lucky to have regained consciousness. If I let sleep claim me again,
would I ever wake up?

I couldn’t risk the answer being no.

I took several pained breaths, my ribs sore and my
lips so dry they cracked when I opened them. I swallowed, but my
mouth was a desert.

My head rested against my arm. My numb hands were
bound above me, and my weight hung limply from the cold metal clamped
around my wrists.

I lifted my head, fighting against the pain. My
vision blurred for a moment and my stomach lurched.

The smell of blood and piss invaded my nostrils.

I adjusted my weight, forming my hands into fists
to wake them up. My legs ached from being in the same position for a
long time. I stretched them out across the stone floor, sucking in a
breath as the feeling rushed back into them.

Whatever the Devil had cast on me had left me only
half of myself. My awareness was fuzzy, as if I couldn’t quite
access all of my brain. How long had I been asleep?

I couldn't tell if it had been hours or days.

Even in my haze, I knew I needed to act quickly.

First, that meant trying to stand up and figure
out how the hell I was going to escape. I closed my eyes and took
three deep breaths in and out. I calmed the panic that lived just
under the surface of my skin and focused instead on finding that
spark of power deep inside.

If I had any chance of surviving this night,
tapping into that well of energy was my greatest hope.

On the third breath in, I felt a twinge of it,
there on the edge of my awareness. Power that sent chills up my arms.

I grabbed hold of it, pulling it up from the
depths of darkness and forcing it into the light. I pushed that power
through my veins, feeding off it until my skin buzzed with it.

My eyes snapped open, my vision no longer fuzzy
and blurred.

For the first time, I got a good look at the room
where I was confined. Cell would have been a better name for it. It
looked like something out of an old Dracula film. The floor and walls
were made of huge gray stones of various sizes. Decades worth of dirt
lined the floors. Streaks of blood ran down the walls as if someone
had literally tried to claw their way through the stones.

Iron bars locked me inside.

I almost smiled. Was I really so dangerous that
one of the most powerful vampires in existence felt the need to knock
me out and chain me up inside a cell with iron bars?

Maybe I really was capable of so much more than I
realized.

If that was true, I’d better wake up my
inner bad-ass before the Devil came back.

Across from me, I could see an identical cell. At
first, it looked empty, but when I looked away, movement caught the
corner of my eye.

I turned back and squinted. There, in the shadows,
stood a young girl. She couldn't have been more than eight or nine
years old. My lips parted. What kind of monster would imprison a
child?

I pulled my feet under me and pushed my back
against the stone wall. My muscles were weakened and quivering, but
with the support of the wall, I was finally on my feet.

I lowered my arms, my hands pulsing as the blood
rushed back into them. My head spun and I had to close my eyes again
and take several deep breaths. I waited, letting my blood
redistribute itself through my body, concentrating on that tiny spark
of power still lit inside my core. That spark was all that mattered
right now. Not the pain or the discomfort. Not the hunger that
gnarled at my stomach. Nothing else mattered but the power.

When I felt better, I rolled my shoulders out, my
joints cracking.

Okay, I was up. Now what?

I turned my attention to the chains and shackles
that held me to the wall. There had to be a way out.

There was just enough give in the chains when I
was standing to allow me to move a few steps forward and to each
side. I moved carefully, testing my boundaries without making much
sound.

The chains rattled slightly, and I slowed, making
very deliberate movements.

I had enough space to turn around and study the
way the chains were embedded into the wall. I reached up and pulled
on them, knowing it would be way too easy if I could just pull them
off.

The thick links of chain were hooked to a metal
plate bolted into the stone. The metal looked old and rusted in some
places, covered with dirt and blood in others, but it was sturdy and
strong, showing no signs of give or damage.

I looked over and saw the child in the opposite
cell staring at me. She had moved closer to the front now, her small
hands grasping the iron as her head rested against the bars.

She didn't seem to have any chains around her arms
or legs, like I did.

Of course, her wrists were so skinny, she could
have just slipped out of any chains.

I twisted my wrists around inside the shackles to
see if I could possibly wiggle my hands through, but it was no use.
The metal shackles were way too freaking tight. Even if I dislocated
my thumb, I’d never be able to pull free.

Maybe I could use magic to get them off.

I didn't know much about how to control my magical
powers, but what I'd done so far had mostly come instinctively. So,
what did I know about magic? I knew how to do glamours, but a glamour
would only hide or cover things, it couldn’t actually change
the substance of them.

When I got angry or emotional, I could control or
manipulate the wind, but even a tornado wouldn’t get me out of
these chains unless I managed to bring the whole damn building down.
Which would kill me and everyone down here. That might be a good
option if I was totally out of others, but I wasn’t ready to
choose suicide over impending ritual sacrifice just yet.

Wind wasn’t the answer.

Women in my family were all supposed to be able to
shift into the form of a crow. I’d seen both Mary Anne and my
mother do it, but I had no idea how to make myself shift.

Still, it was worth a shot. If I became a crow,
the chains would slide right off. I might even be able to fly through
the iron bars of my cell and find a window.

Hope lifted my heart.

I could do this.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I
concentrated on the warm spark of energy inside me. Like when I'd
used a glamour to change my eye color, I used the power of my
imagination. I imagined myself turning into a crow. I pictured sleek,
black wings spreading from my back as my body grew smaller. I
pictured a beak and dark feathers. I imagined myself slipping from
the chains and flying free.

But nothing happened.

Frustrated, I opened my eyes and balled my hands
into fists. How hard could this be, really? If everyone—even a
teenage girl like Mary Anne—could do this, surely I could do
it, too. It was part of my heritage. I was a crow witch.

There had to be some trick to it that I wasn’t
getting.

I turned and leaned my back against the stone wall
for support. I raised my arms to the side as if they were wings and
closed my eyes. I calmed the panic and fear in my chest as best I
could and tried again.

The spark of power in my core spread outward like
fingers of energy, reaching toward my arms and legs. I imagined that
energy blossoming, changing me from the inside out.

But something held me back.

I couldn’t explain it or put my finger on it
exactly, but I knew something was wrong. It was as if my magic had
been muzzled.

“You can't cast magic in here, if that's
what you're trying to do,” a small voice said in a slight
British accent.

I opened one eye and peered over at the child in
the opposite cell. “Why not?”

She shrugged. “Don't know. You just can't,”
she said. “No one can but them.”

“Them who?”

She looked to her left, as if making sure no one
was listening. “The vampires,” she said in a whisper.

I bit the inside of my lip. No magic. That was
definitely not good news.

“Do you know where we are?” I stepped
forward as far as my chains would let me go.

She shook her head.

“Do you know how long I've been here?”

She glanced up toward the ceiling. “About
day, I think,” she said. “You've been sleeping. I thought
maybe you were dead there for a while.”

I nodded. “Me, too,” I said with a
laugh. “I'm Franki, by the way.”

“I'm Annabelle,” she said.

“How old are you Annabelle? If you don't
mind me asking.”

“Eight,” she said. “Or at least
I think I turned eight already. I tried to keep track of the days,
but it's hard because there isn't any light.”

My heart ached for this girl. Had she really been
in here so long she wasn't even sure if she'd had a birthday? “You've
been in here a while?” I asked.

She nodded, her eyes going shiny with tears.

“All alone?”

She nodded again. “My mum used to be in the
cell next to me, but the guards took her away a few days ago,”
she said. She swiped at her face and sniffed. “I don't think
she's coming back.”

I swallowed back tears of my own.

The Devil truly is a monster.

I clenched my teeth and pulled hard against the
chains. I was going to make him pay for this. I was going to find a
way out of this cell, and I was going to make him suffer.

I threw all my weight against the chains, not
caring that the shackles were cutting into my skin. I ignored the
pain and fought as hard as I could. I pulled and clawed at the
ancient handcuffs, begging my hands to slip through.

But it was no use.

My head fell against the stone as I struggled to
catch my breath. I was trapped. Powerless. Dead on arrival.

In the distance, a door creaked open. I froze and
listened.

Across from me, Annabelle slipped back into the
shadows.

Shoes clicked against the stones as someone walked
through the dungeon toward my cell. I pressed my back against the
wall. My knees trembled and nearly buckled beneath me.

I told myself not to be afraid, but who was I
kidding? Impending death by ritual was one of those occasions where I
think you're allowed to be scared. I was lucky I hadn't peed my
pants.

But as the footsteps drew closer, I straightened
my shoulders, determined not to let them see how frightened I really
was.

If this was the end of my life, I wanted to face
it with strength.

And, if possible, I wanted to end as many of
theirs as I could before I died.

Starting with the woman who'd just stepped in
front of the iron bars of my cell.

I had never felt such hatred in my life.

The spark of power at my core roared to life, its
flames licking at the surface of my skin. For a moment, I wondered if
I might be burned alive by my own rage.

My mother smiled at me through the bars of my
cell. “You have no idea how long I've waited to see you locked
up inside this cage, little bird,” she said. “Three long
years I've been planning for this moment. I can hardly believe the
time has finally come.”

My veins strained against my skin, the magic
inside of me begging to be let loose.

“Why?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“Revenge,” she said. “For every
day of my life I sacrificed for you.”

I flinched. What kind of woman could want revenge
from her own child? “I never did anything to you,” I
said.

“You were born,” she said. “Isn't
that enough?”

I clenched my fists tighter. “Isn't that
partially your fault?” I asked. “Since you were the one
who gave birth to me?”

She moved closer, placing a hand on the bars. “I
keep forgetting you don't know the truth.”

My heart went cold. “What are you talking
about?”

“I was not the one who gave birth to you,
Franki,” she said, laughter in her voice. As if breaking my
heart was a thing of joy. “You were born in the crow village to
a young woman named Mary Kathryn. She held you. She nursed you. And
then, like some cruel joke, the Mother Crow snatched you from her
arms and handed you to me, a rebellious loser who had disobeyed the
rules one too many times. You were my punishment for all the sins of
my childhood.”

My mouth fell open and a strangled cry escaped my
throat.