The Chalice (Luna Vampire Series) (5 page)

             
I was curled into a ball on the floor again, my mind clinging to lucidity with all its might.  And, yeah, I
so
wanted
to mouth off to the decrepit bastard but I lacked the energy.  In fact, I barely forced myself to utter a simple, "No."

             
"You must partake of the sacred fluid, child, or you'll surely perish.  I know you feel yourself slipping away.  Do you truly desire death over life?"  His tone held an edge of concern which sounded genuine, even though I knew it had to be fake. 
Why would my kidnapper and torturer be concerned?

             
I cleared my dry, aching throat before speaking in a lame attempt at seeming a little stronger.  Regardless, when the words came out they still sounded pathetically frail.  "No.  I don't wanna die.  What I want is for you to let me go."

             
"Luna, you must think rationally," he replied, discharging one of his annoyingly audible sighs.  "If I free you in your present condition, you'll retain absolutely zero chances of survival."

             
"If you release me," I whined, totally disregarding his deranged logic.  "I promise I won't go to the police." 
Yeah right.  If I ended up getting out of this mess, I'd go straight to the cops.  Fucking lunatics.  They deserved jail time for this shit.
My super sweet voice didn't betray my true intentions, though, as I resumed my groveling.  "I swear, I'll go on with my life as if this never happened.  And I won't rat on you guys.  Seriously, just turn me loose and everything's forgiven."

             
"Why do you insist on being this difficult?" he grumbled, his attitude taking on a much colder quality.  "I wish it wasn't necessary to progress in such a fashion.  Alas, you leave me no other alternative.  I won't permit you to kill yourself." 

             
"Go to hell!" I snapped, hastily dropping the
bygones are bygones
act.  "Either set me free or murder me, 'cause talking in circles ain't helping and I'm sick of getting the runaround."

             
"That's it, Luna.  I've become quite tired of your insolence.  In future days, remember that you brought this on yourself.  It didn't need to be this way.  Unfortunately, time grows short and so does my patience.  Therefore, I command you to drink, now!" 

             
Suddenly, a sharp burning sensation pierced my skull.  Then, almost immediately, a pounding headache set in followed by blinding pulses of pain vibrating along the length of my spine.  Although disconcerting, it paled in comparison to what came next. 
My mind, my resolve, my willpower
. 
All stolen.  Brutally and irrevocably stolen. 

             
I felt like a human onion with each protective layer being malevolently peeled away.  The unfolding rattled my soul and I struggled against it.  However, in the end, my determination faded into nonexistence.  I was a puppet, or maybe a zombie, as I sat up and started crawling the short distance toward the chalice.  All the while, my tongue burned with an ever-present compulsion to satiate its thirst.

             
As I pushed ahead, I heard my frantic voice in my mind screaming, "
No!  No!  Don't drink!  Don't do it!  Just go lay back down!"
  Sadly, the desperate pleading made no difference; I was driven forward anyway. 

             
Minutes later, when my hands touched the cold metal and lifted it off the ground, I tried again. 
"No drinking!  Be strong!  Set the chalice down!"
  Still nothing. 
Damn. 
The mystery liquid was only inches from my face. 

             
Devoid of options, I did the last thing I could think of and cried out to a higher power. 
"Please god, if you really do exist, you have to help me!  I've never asked for a bit of assistance before and, well, you know I don't usually pray and stuff.  Even so, you gotta help me!  Give me the strength to live through this!  And the willpower to refuse the poison!  Come on, please, I'm not ready to die!" 

             
All that begging and guess what? 
God never showed up.  Surprise, surprise.
 

             
My body stayed on autopilot while the chalice touched my lips and the cool liquid flowed into my mouth.  It tingled across my tongue, soothing the dryness on contact.  And, in spite of my free will's opposition, I swallowed gulp after worried gulp.

             
Admittedly, the drink wasn't nearly as disgusting as I'd assumed it might be.  Don't get me wrong, it definitely continued to give me the heebie-jeebies.  It sorta reminded me of an odorless, bittersweet, vitamin smoothie with a mysterious metallic zing.  Nonetheless, the stuff sparked my appetite which had been disturbingly absent ever since my abduction.

             
"Good, my daughter, good," the old man cooed, conveying an eerie sense of affection as the final drop of liquid slid down my throat.  "Now it'll only be a few more moments.  Simply lay back and relax.  It will all be over soon."

             
"Daughter?  Why'd you..." I wasn't given the chance to finish my sentence.  Instead, a series of convulsions overtook me.  Rapid heartbeats roared in my ears as my arms and legs bashed around uncontrollably. 
No way to stop the onslaught, confused.  On the floor, dizzy, hands numb, unable to breathe.
 

             
"God help me!  Please!  I don't..."
And then, all too abruptly, my world lurched into unconsciousness.

             
Later on, perhaps a few hours or more, I awoke to a seemingly healthy body and was instantly elated.  Well, truthfully, elated would be an understatement.  My emotions soared into the heavens. 
I WASN'T DEAD!  And I could see my surroundings!  Really see! 
Albeit through dim lighting, but whatever.  I wasn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.
  No more sensory deprivation!  Yay!

             
It took several giddy minutes before reality finally came to the forefront.  And, to put it bluntly, it still totally sucked.  I remained helplessly stranded in my cement prison without the slightest clue as to why they'd kept me alive.  I also didn't know the why the old man had turned on the lights. 
What was next?  Rape?  Torture?
  Regardless of the crackpot's reasoning, I knew his plan centered upon me. 

             
"No, daughter, you're wrong," he chimed in, causing me to squint up at him which, of course, gained me nothing since the jerk stood a couple feet out of sight.  "I haven't turned on the lights.  It's you that has changed.  Your night vision, among other skills, has greatly improved." 

             
"I'm not your daughter, so quit freaking calling me that," I quipped, trying to buy myself a little time to process the situation.
  For real, did he just read my mind about the lights?
 
I must be hallucinating again, right?
 
And night vision, huh?
 

             
"Okay, daughter, if it'll make you feel more comfortable I'll refer to you by your name in the future.  I must tell you, though, your defiant attitude is utterly adorable..."  He paused to stifle a chuckle.  "As for reading your mind, it's simple.  I can hear you."

             
"You can hear me, um, you can hear my thoughts?" I blurted.  Then, almost as quickly as the words left my mouth, I realized I shouldn't have even dignified him with a reply.  He had to be playing games with me.  Nobody can hear anyone else's thoughts. 
That's pure craziness.

             
"Indeed," he chortled, no longer attempting to conceal his amusement.  "Most of us around here are gifted with telepathic abilities."

             
"For some reason, I highly doubt you've got superpowers.  It's much easier for me to believe that you're nuttier than a damn fruitcake."  I ground my teeth together in frustration.  "Or you're screwing with me."

             
"I'm not 'screwing with you', as you so eloquently put it," he scoffed mockingly.  "My goal is to gain your trust, not to manipulate you."

             
At that point, it became overly apparent that our conversation was a complete waste of time.
I mean, what's with all the supernatural nonsense?  Telepathy, night vision?  Yeah right.
  Plus, his incessant chuckling and lighthearted banter were irritating me beyond belief.  And, well, seeing that I couldn't have the creep enjoying himself at my expense, I decided to see how he took to the silent treatment
.  I know, I know.  It was kinda juvenile, but I didn't care.

             
At first, I utilized my newfound quietude to orient myself with my prison.  The walls stretched more than thirty feet upward and were covered in patches of grime.  The floor looked equally disgusting, providing ample evidence that nobody'd cleaned for quite awhile.  Beyond that, a ladder had been built into the side of one of the walls.  However, it was positioned a good five feet above the ledge.  So, needless to say, I couldn't use it to escape.
  I wouldn't be able to jump that high.
 

             
Shortly thereafter, I surveyed my outward appearance.
  I was a nasty mess and required a bath, like yesterday.
  The robe, obviously once red and fluffy, showed evidence of being rolled in blood, piss, and throw up, among other things.  In all honesty, it probably had. 
I sure smelled disgusting enough.

             
One positive, at least, was my physical state.  I didn't feel weak anymore.  In fact, I felt warm and strangely rested.  My wounds had stopped aching and, surprisingly, the sheer terror that'd been constantly plaguing my psyche was basically gone.  In short, my health seemed to be pretty much perfect. 
Well, if not for the hunger, that is.

             
The vitamin concoction hadn't even come close to satisfying my body's craving.  Every few minutes, my stomach would cramp up and then growl at me loudly. 
Granted, my yearning for sustenance was unbearably intense. 
But why wouldn't it be?  I'd been kidnapped for at least five days.  I should be starving.  That's normal, right?
   I shook my head, struggling to clear it. 
This place was making me paranoid.  Sigh.

             
To shift my train of thought, I inspected the chalice.  I held its familiar weight in my hands, scrutinizing the polished gold exterior and the intricately embedded lettering.  Well, on second glance, maybe they were symbols.  Either way, the strange writing looked sorta like a combination between Egyptian hieroglyphs and Chinese.  It mesmerized me for a time until I eventually grew bored and proceeded on with my examination of the residue left inside.

             
The stuff turned out to be red, blood red.
  Jesus, it couldn't have been actual blood, could it?  They must've added some food coloring to scare me, right?
 
Or the vitamins were red?
  My mind spun while I considered making myself throw up.  In the end, though, I decided it'd be of no use since my stomach seemed a tad on the empty side.
  I shuddered, thoroughly repulsed at the plethora of horrid substances that were most assuredly percolating deep within me.

             
For real, who knows what those douchebags forced me to drink!
  If it was blood, they probably gave me AIDS or hepatitis C. 
Those skeezy bastards!
  I sniffed at the dried goo, learned a big fat zilch, and ultimately discarded the thing onto the floor. 
Outrage, anger, and unfathomable indignation filled my emotions.  And I swore to myself that one day I'd pay 'em back for putting me through this shit.

             
In desperate need of a way to expend my excess energy, I decided to walk the circumference of my cell.  It was a perfect square, about twenty feet long on each side, which meant that it took me exactly forty steps to make a full circle.  And, yeah, I deduced this useless tidbit because after a couple laps I started counting. 
Why, not?  I mean, I didn't have anything else to do. 
I certainly wasn't gonna talk to
crazy kidnapper-guy.  I also refused to get any more worked up.

             
My efforts were successful at first, however, anger began seeping past my determination at around a thousand steps.  By five thousand, I was fuming worse than ever.
  Seriously, how long would the demented asshole stand up there and, oh so patiently, wait on me?
 
Fucking prick
.  Six thousand, seven thousand.  When ten thousand steps came, I accepted the fact that my plan had failed horribly.  He'd stayed quiet as a mouse during the entire cold shoulder session. 
And I couldn't take it for another goddamn second.

             
"You're a liar, old man. 
A manipulative liar!
  You said that once I downed the crap in the chalice I'd be released.  That was the deal.  Yet, for some screwed up reason, I'm still stuck here.  Why is that?"  I heard nothing, absolutely nothing.  And I almost punched the wall.  Luckily, I quickly regained my wits and avoided breaking my fist.  "I know you're up there, old man.  I never heard you walk away.  Answer me, you insane son of a bitch!"