“Stop calling me ‘Cecily’, asshole. My name is Sassy. And fuck your apology! You knew it was wrong to have sex with me, but you did it anyway. You bent me over and fucked me like a dog when you knew I wasn’t acting of my own volition. And now you’re sorry? You’re sorry?
“And despite the fact that you’re so sorry for date-raping me, you’re okay with sacrificing me to a demon. Do you have any idea how fucked up that is?”
“I do. But there is nothing to be done about it.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong, dickhead. I am going to get out of this, and then I am going to give you the beating you deserve.”
Devlin shook his head sadly. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a syringe.
“No,” he said. “You’re not. Those chains are made of silver. They take away your power. You’ve no way to free yourself.
“And in case I am wrong, you will not be awake for the ceremony. I’m truly sorry. Goodbye, Cecily.”
“Devlin, no, you son of a bitch!”
He stabbed me in the neck with the needle and pressed the plunger. The world immediately went out of focus. My head swam.
“My name . . . is . . . Sassy, assho . . .”
Then I was gone.
Seventeen
I wandered in darkness for what seemed like forever. There was nothing around me. It was black above and below, ahead and behind, to the left and right. I wasn’t floating. I was definitely walking, so there was some surface below my feet. And despite everything being black, I could see. It wasn’t dark. Or maybe I was just a light that was wandering through this pitch. Who knew?
I couldn’t remember where I was, what had happened. I was just all alone. Was I dead? If I was, this was a really disappointing afterlife. I mean, no choirs of angels? No streets of gold? No Elysian fields to run through? This was bullshit.
There was also no feeling of calm, of peace. I had no impression my troubles were over, that I could rest at last. No, every cliché was either totally false, or I wasn’t dead yet. And if I wasn’t dead, where the hell was I?
Off in the distance, I saw a tiny light. Oh, shit. Maybe I’d spoken too soon about the clichés. Was I supposed to “move into the light”? Was I actually headed for death? I was definitely not ready to die.
I was also bored. I had no idea what to do. Maybe I could check the light out, see what it was. Then if it was the afterlife, I could say, “Fuck that shit,” and go back.
With nothing better to do, I headed for the pinprick of light in the darkness.
It got larger as I approached, but it was not some formless beacon of hope. As I got closer, I could see it was a person. They were giving off the same illumination I was, like a highlighted figure on a black backdrop or a . . . or a chalkboard.
Suddenly, this seemed familiar. I’d been here before.
The other person was a man in a grey, pinstriped suit. He was on his knees, hunched over with his hands on his face and his head on the ground. His body shook softly, as though he were crying.
“Are you okay?” I asked when I reached him.
My father looked up at me.
Tears streaked his face. His features, normally chiseled with age and ruggedly handsome, were instead a mess. He looked gaunt, emaciated. As if some great sin had stolen his soul and left this husk.
“Cecily,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
I had no idea what he was talking about. He was sorry? Where were we? What had he done? Was I dead after all? Maybe, I’d found him in the afterlife, and he was apologizing for getting me killed.
“I led you astray,” he said. “I put you in danger.”
His words penetrated only partially. I knew what he said was true. I could sense that whatever had happened was indeed his fault. But I couldn’t understand how or why.
“What are you talking about?” I said, my voice sounding like it was underwater.
What the hell was happening? Where was this place?
“I told you he could teach you,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
Yes. He could teach me. Devlin could . . . Holy shit! Devlin!
I suddenly understood I was unconscious. Devlin had injected me with some sort of knockout drug, and I was dreaming again. And yeah, this was my father’s fault. He’d told me to learn from him like I was Luke Skywalker and Devlin was Yoda.
“Dad, I have to get away from him,” I said. My voice still sounded muffled, thick. The words were hard to form. “How do I escape him?”
But he just started weeping again. He was helpless. And that made him useless to me.
I looked around. I had no idea where I was, but there had to be some way out of here. Maybe there was a door or something. Maybe a ladder.
A complete scan of my surroundings revealed nothing. It was the same featureless, black environment. I felt weak, as though some heavy weight were dragging me down. I resisted. I feared losing what little consciousness I had here.
“Saaaaasssyyyy!” someone called.
I turned my head towards the voice. At least, I thought I was turning it towards the voice. I couldn’t be sure. In this vast darkness, it was impossible to know which direction was which.
But my father heard it too. He ceased his tears and, like me, turned to look for the source of the sound.
“Saaaaasssyyyy!” it said again.
The voice broke from a high pitch on the first syllable to a lower one on the second – like when your mother is calling you into dinner. And it was so familiar. I knew that voice. I knew it.
“Sassy, where arrrre youuuuu?”
“Felicia?” I said.
My father jumped up, looking scared. He looked all around.
“Don’t let them find me,” he said.
“What?”
“If they find me, I’ll never see you again.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Once again, my words were difficult to speak. I couldn’t seem to make them come out right.
“Saaaaasssyyyy!”
The voice was getting closer now. And it definitely sounded like Felicia. Was she here too?
“I’m sorry,” my father said.
He turned and ran. My eyes popped open wide. What the hell was the matter with him? What was going on here?
Dad got about fifty yards away and faded into nothingness. I was alone again.
“Sassy, where arrrre youuuu?”
Felicia wandered into view. Oh, my God, it was actually her! Felicia was here!
“Felicia!” I cried. “I’m here! I’m right here!”
She turned towards me. Her eyes lit up with joy. Those big, brown irises overflowed with love.
But then she turned away from me.
“I’ve found her!” she cried.
Tears formed in my eyes. Oh, my God it was her. It was really her!
“Keep talking to li,” said someone else. The voice – a woman’s – echoed all around. It was ghostly, haunting. “Mo lost le pére again.”
Lost le pére? Again? What the hell did that even mean? Things just kept getting stranger.
“Sassy, where are you?” Felicia asked.
“Where am I?” I said. “I’m right here.”
“I can’t see where ‘here’ is,” Felicia replied. “Can you be more specific?”
I looked around. What the hell was Felicia talking about? There was her, there was me, and there was nothing but darkness around us. How could I get more specific?
“I’m nowhere,” I said. “It’s just the two of us in this . . . whatever this is.”
Felicia turned away again. I could see the worry in her shoulders, in her posture. She was wearing her blue-paisley peasant top and black leggings. Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders. But her usual light, the happiness I was accustomed to radiating off her, was not there, and her favorite shirt couldn’t disguise it.
“She doesn’t understand,” she said.
“Make li understand,” the ghostly voice said.
It had a wei
rd accent to it. I couldn’t place it.
“Sassy, you’re dreaming,” Felicia said. “This isn’t where you actually are. I need to know, so we can find you.”
Felicia was in my dream? And she knew it was a dream?
This was important somehow. I tried to figure out why, but it was so damned hard to think.
“Sassy, you have to tell me where you are,” Felicia insisted. “I can’t help you if you don’t.”
Help me? Help me do what?
I looked around again. Like it had on the train, everything was outlined in white like it had been drawn in chalk. I was no longer in a blank, black space. This was a church. And it was dilapidated. There was a hole in the ceiling. The stained-glass windows were broken.
“I’m in a church,” I said.
“What church?” Felicia asked.
“I don’t know. Some ruined church in rural Iowa.”
Felicia looked panicked. Frustration ran across her face.
“Okay, just keep talking to me,” she said. “We’re coming for you.”
Chalk-outline cultists in robes with the hoods up surrounded me. They started preparing their ritual.
“Felicia,” I said, horror creeping over my mind. “I’m going to die.”
“No, you’re not!” she shouted. “Hold on! I’m coming for you!”
“She can’t help you,” said another familiar voice.
I looked to my left. The little girl from my previous dreams was standing next to me. She looked up with that mischievous grin she always seemed to be wearing.
“Felicia,” I said. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
“Damn it, Sassy, don’t you give up!” she cried. “I’m coming!”
“She has no power,” the little girl said. “She can’t help you.”
Yes. I knew that was true. That was why I had run in the first place. Because Felicia didn’t have any magical power. She was just an ordinary person. I couldn’t risk her life, since everyone wanted to kill me.
“Sassy, I’m bringing help,” Felicia said. “Ash is with me. We’ll find you!”
Ash? She’d brought Ash? She hated Ash. And I’d told him to leave me alone. He’d promised to.
“By the time they find you, it will be too late,” the little girl said. “You must save yourself.”
“I can’t,” I said. “They’ve chained me in silver.”
“What?” Felicia said. “What do you mean?”
“The Man with the Staff does not know who you are,” the little girl said.
What the fuck was she talking about? He knew exactly who I was.
“Yes, he does,” I protested. “He knows my name, even though I never told him. He knows I’m the N’Chai Toroth.”
“Sassy, who are you talking to? You’re not making any sense,” Felicia said.
“You must discover yourself,” the little girl said.
Her eyes twinkled with delight. She was holding some secret she wouldn’t give up, something I should know but didn’t.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“I mean, I can’t understand you,” Felicia said. “It’s like you’re talking to someone else.”
The little girl raised her hands and grinned broadly.
“The Girl Inside wears chains only if she wants to,” she said.
“Sassy,” Felicia said. “I can’t see you anymore. Where are you?”
“The Traitor comes,” the little girl said.
“What? Which traitor? Who?”
“Sassy!” Felicia screamed. “Sassy, come back! Sassy! Noooooo!”
The little girl put a finger to her lips.
“Remember your secret,” she whispered. “Shhhhhhh.”
Then she faded away until there was nothing but darkness and silence. A moment later, the black faded, slowly turning to lighter and lighter shades of grey.
I opened my eyes. Ephraim was standing over me. He leered triumphantly.
“Hiya, Sis,” he said. “So nice to see you.”
Eighteen
My mind was still groggy from whatever Devlin had given me to knock me out. It was hard to get a firm grasp on what was going on. I had a look around.
Sadly, I was still chained to the altar. My shoulders were sore from my being splayed spread-eagle for however long it had been now.
Ephraim was wearing a black robe like the other cultists. A White woman with mousy-brown hair and a plain face stood behind him.
There were about twelve more demon worshippers wandering about the church with their hoods up. The pentagram was finished, and the goat carcass had been removed. Devlin stood a short distance away, gripping his staff as though his life depended on it.
“Ephraim,” I groaned. “I should have known a pindick, little shit like you would be involved in this somehow.”
Big Brother Asshole smiled broadly. Whatever victory he thought this was trumped my insult.
“Of course, Cecily. I was always going to be your demise.”
I swallowed to wet my mouth. My lips were cracked and dry.
“I’ve told you, motherfucker,” I said. “My name is Sassy.”
He snorted.
“Your birth certificate says otherwise,” he said. “Embracing your insolent mouth as a mantle is the kind of thing a low-class, low-rent bitch like you would think is clever.
“But you’ll find your tongue is no help to you now. Devlin has been working with my new associates to lure you in. You fell for it completely. You’re mine now.”
The traitor comes.
Of course. I should have known the little girl meant Big Brother Asshole.
“‘Your new associates,’” I spat. “So now you’re a traitor in addition to a jealous, spoiled brat.”
Ephraim’s green eyes blazed with hot fury. His pale skin flushed crimson. His freckles practically disappeared in the apoplexy. I might be the one chained to an altar, but my barbs could still slice him open like they were knives.
“I’m not the traitor!” Ephraim roared. “The Order betrayed me! They sent you to kill D’Krisch Mk’Rai when it was my job. They decided you were the N’Chai Toroth instead of me. And then they attempted to arrest me, hunted me, when they discovered I had quite properly tried to eliminate you.”
“Quite properly?” I said. “You conspired with a vampire to murder innocent people just to bait the line for me. You set up a deal that weakened The Order’s authority over the Kingdom of Ashmodei.
“And I wasn’t even doing anything! I was just living my life, ignoring you people before you dragged me back in with your byzantine revenge plot.
“And why? Because you didn’t get to kill your dragon? I had to rescue your dumb ass after you botched the mission!”
“That wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been there in the first place!” he shouted.
I rolled my eyes. Jesus, he was petty. His penis was so tiny I’d need a microscope to find it.
“Father was so convinced he’d sired the N’Chai Toroth. It never occurred to him it could be me,” he went on. “Well, the N’Chai Toroth is a destructor. That is what I have become. I will destroy you, dear ‘sister,’ dear Cecily. And then I will destroy The Order. They will fall. They will learn the cost of betrayal.
“And when I have laid waste to them, sundered the magical world, I will establish a new golden age, just as it was foretold. With me at its head.”
A wild, crazy light danced in Big Brother Asshole’s eyes. Oh, he was full of himself. He was overflowing. All he saw was his delusional dystopia.
“You jealous, little shitbag,” I said. “You’re as bad as an MRA fanboy bitching about how so-and-so destroyed his childhood by letting girls play something other than rescue objects in his favorite IP. You’re a self-absorbed, overindulged kid, pitching a tantrum on Christmas morning because his sister got the big present he was hoping for.
“Your father would be ashamed of you.”
Ephraim’s expression turned black at that taunt. Before I reg
istered what he was doing, he drew back his fist and punched me in the jaw. My head whipped to the left with the impact, and I smacked the other side of my face on the stone. Pain throbbed through my cheeks and mouth.
I turned my head slowly back towards him. He sat there heaving one angry breath after another, all rage and impotence. I spat blood from my mouth.
“Wow,” I said, ignoring how much it hurt to talk. “Now you’re hitting defenseless women. You’re all class, Ephraim. A real ‘man.’”
He glared at me. He leaned in close.
“Don’t. You. Talk. About. My. Father,” he growled.
I flashed him a bloody, fuck-you smile.
“Why not?” I said. “I see him every night in my dreams. Do you?”
His face fell. It was obvious the answer was no. He stood upright and gaped on me in horror, but he said nothing.
“He apologized to me the other night,” I said, twisting the knife.
Ephraim, God bless him, was the perfect older brother for a bratty little sister like me. He couldn’t resist the bait.
“What for?” he asked.
“For you,” I said. I gave it a second to sink in. “That’s right, Big Bro. Daddy apologized to me for you.”
He raised his fist to hit me again. I got ready. If I could manage it, I was going to duck my head, so his punch landed on top of my forehead. The bone was thick there. He might break his hand.
But he never got a chance to deliver his second blow. The woman behind him grabbed his fist.
“Be careful of your temper, my love,” she said.
Her voice wasn’t strong, but it had a commanding note. She might look timid, but this woman had authority.
“If you beat her, she may lose consciousness,” she went on. “And if you lose control, you may kill her before she can be sacrificed.”
Ephraim glared at her for several seconds. He shook his fist free of her grip. He scowled at me one more time before lowering his arm without hitting me.
“That’s a good boy, Ephraim,” I said. “Listen to Mommy.”
The woman stepped forward and grabbed my chin and squeezed. Unable to stop myself, I yelped. Damn it! I hate showing weakness, but it hurt like a motherfucker.
Mousy-looking Mommy shook my head, driving more spikes of pain into my brain. She bent over me, and her brown eyes turned fire-engine red.
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