The Blood Order (Fanghunters Book Two) (49 page)

Everything turned deathly silent. He stood for a few moments in the darkness, his whole body trembling. The air was dank, musky. The strong stench of death enveloped it all; an aroma Ramon was well acquainted with.

What now?
he asked himself.

He turned in a confused semi-circle. He licked his lips. "Mama?" he asked the darkness. He was answered by silence.

"Mama," he repeated, this time trying to inject authority into his voice. His words rebounded off the surrounding walls. "Your son is here. Come to greet me. I command you!" He held his hands out to the sides as if awaiting an embrace. But nothing came. Only the sound of his hot breath in his ears.

"Mama!" he repeated with more force, his hands balled into fists, his fear suddenly displaced with anger. Anger at her lack of co-operation. She should come to greet her loyal disciple, not leave him alone in the dark like a chump. "Mama, come to me. I command you!"

A loud hiss split the silence. He spun in its direction, his ears pricking. More gas-like hissing then erupted, this time from all angles. Ramon whirled in a breathless circle, the dark hindering his view, that hissing resonating all around him now.

Something slithered over his feet; fat and meaty. His eyes shot downward and he hopped back in disgust.
What the hell--

The hissing grew louder; it reverberated in his mind. As the seconds passed, it intensified. His bulging eyes rolled in the pitch-black.

His fight or flight sense triggered; he knew danger. And he knew what to do. He turned on his heels, but, before he could escape, something cold and slick wrapped around his ankle, almost tripping him. He tried to run, but the thing coiled around his lower leg, pulling him back. He groaned and yanked in the opposite direction, but the thing held firm. It wrapped around his thigh, then made it up to his waist, where it squeezed.

A horrified gasp escaped him. But, it was cut short as something thick and scaly like heavy rope slipped around his chest and tightened his rib cage. He fought against it, trying to push it off him, but it was too heavy, too meaty, too slippery. It had him snared like an animal.

Fight! Fight!
he screamed to himself. He began thumping the thing, but it was like hitting thick rubber. His fists bounced off it without making any impact.

He went to rain in some more blows, when another one coiled around his free leg; it slid up his body, making that hissing sound.

The horror of a forked tongue slid across his cheek.

Then, from nowhere, lots of them wrapped around his body; one, two, three, four. They bound themselves to any free limbs and splayed him like a scarecrow, his arms held out to the sides in the crucifix position.

Ramon's mind exploded with terror. He'd been lied to. Deceived. Mama Magdalena was not here to greet him, only these creatures were. It was a trap. How could he have been such a bitch? Believing in those
putas
up there? All along they wanted to kill him. An assassination, pure and simple. A trick by a rival gang.
Los Lagartos? N-9?
San Miguel Cartel?
Whoever it was
,
they got him. Got him good.

Pain tore through him as fangs penetrated first his clothes then skin. There was an intense pulling sensation as they sucked on his veins. It stopped for a moment; then, a squirt as something was injected back in. It shot up into his brain, clouding his mind in majestic elation, the pain numbed and malformed into intense pleasure. It rolled across his mind like a thick blanket, enveloping it in a soothing euphoria. His whole body became light like he was floating in space; it was better than any hit of any coca he'd ever had.

He was forced to ride the wave, still conscious of the fangs repeatedly biting and sucking from all angles; pleasure belied by brutal agony. Lightheadedness overcame him like standing from a hot bathtub. He was losing too much blood, too fast in the feeding frenzy; any longer and he knew he'd be dead. He wanted to shout out, to scream, the pleasure of the venom flowing through him a contradiction, shutting down his vocal chords; it was like they'd been severed.

Mama, save me. Save me,
he begged in his mind.
Where are you, Mama? Why have you betrayed me?

The promise had been a deceit; an act of treachery played upon his soul. He was nothing but a bitch. A realization worse than death itself.

"Help me, Mama..."
he managed to squeeze out of his constricted chest.

But it was too late. He was alone, and trapped.

A hot pair of fangs dug deep into his throat.

And only then did he begin to scream.

The Chaos Order: Fanghunters Book Three will be out soon!

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