The Chalice
by Christine Asher
Panthroma Press
Copyright © 2011 by Panthroma Press. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews or articles. For further information go to www.PanthromaPress.com or the author's website at www.ChristineAsher.com.
ISBN: 9780983181309
Printed in the United States of America
Prologue
This dream initiated itself exactly same as the couple dozen others I'd been party to over the past few months. It always began with his fingers lightly massaging the muscles near my spine. And, of course, we were cuddling together in the nude.
The warmth of his chest against my cheek and the steady sound of his beating heart comforted me, while his faintly soapy scent reminded me of home. All things considered, it was the most loving embrace I'd ever experienced in my twenty-three years on this earth. It's just too bad dreams can't be reality. Sigh.
In the real world, I usually snagged the liars. You know the type, the ones who'd put on a good show and act like they cared. Most of the guys would even use the L word a time or two. As a result, I'd fall head over heels and completely buy in to each jerk's weaselly charade. Then I'd catch 'em cheating on me. It never failed.
Needless to say, I firmly believe that all men are dogs. And, sadly, I've endured enough screwed up relationships to be able to make that claim with confidence. During college, I typically landed the female lead in the university's theater productions which provided me a steady stream of would-be suitors. None of them worth a shit.
Oh, and don't get me started on my looks. The unfortunate combination of long legs and blonde hair has continually been a relentless beacon to every horny loser within ten miles. Seriously, I should've been born with a "FREE SEX" sign taped across my ass.
Without warning, my dream guy placed a chaste kiss on my forehead, immediately returning my thoughts to him and catching me totally off guard in the process. He normally either stroked my back or my hair, never anything else. And I know this might sound kinda weird, regardless, the dreams always took place with my eyes closed. If I went to a shrink, I'm sure they'd spout off about my subconscious mind having issues. But whatever.
So, as the solitary brush of his lips shot electric pulses along my vertebrae down to my innermost parts, I sucked in a trembling breath, simultaneously feeling a shudder pass through both our bodies. We appeared to be perfectly in tune with each other. And when he began to caress my hair, I already knew what was coming.
The most pure and innocent love filled me to bursting. Its affectionate tranquility was a welcomed respite from the stresses of my waking life. Nonetheless, it still overwhelmed me. So much so that my ragged breaths were few and far between. My head spun with desire as I yearned for him to touch me more.
However, suddenly, an abstract comment flitted into my mind. "This is what it's like to be with a man instead of some dumb college boy."
The realization surprised me. I mean, it appeared to be a part of my own inner dialogue. Yet, the words were noticeably different from mine. Especially the phrasing.
As if sensing my unease, dream lover did another first. He reached down, took hold of my hand, and started gently rubbing circles into my palm. The softness of his fingertip rapidly became the focal point of my awareness, his touch the epitome of perfection. It brought me indescribable pleasure and, after awhile, it seemed to transcend the simple friction of skin on skin, plunging deeply into my soul.
A wave of unfamiliar tingling sensations cascaded throughout my being, followed by the recognition that my memories were being read like an open book. Upsetting images from past dating fiascos sprang forth, all the hurt and betrayal bubbling to the surface along with them.
In turn, my dream guy poured loving energy over my emotional scarring. He did this with care, repeating the process again and again, until my psyche felt whole for the first time in years.
Once more, an arbitrary thought popped in on me. "You are loved, truly loved. Remember that in the days to come."
Yep, those words definitely weren't my own. I hesitated briefly, confusion intermingling with my lovie-dovie feelings. Meanwhile, instinct and a bit of curiosity begged me to survey my surroundings.
The little birdie, on the other hand, discouraged it. "Dreams are fragile and, if your wish is for this one to continue, you shouldn't disrupt the balance."
Now, there's one thing you gotta understand about me, I absolutely hate anybody telling me what to do. So, with fierce disobedience, I wrenched open my eyes. The scene was what I would've expected, well, except for the stupid purple sheet. Sadly, it covered both of us from the waist down. I still drooled over his chiseled stomach but it could've been so much better. Sigh.
I was trying to reposition myself in order to inspect his assuredly sexy facial features, when he abruptly stopped me. He forced my eyes shut by pressing my face into his chest. Then he resumed the gentle stroking of my hair, nudging me back toward oblivion. Although, in this instance, I perceived his subterfuge and chose to resist its seduction. I wanted to see him. No, let me restate that, after these last several months I needed to see him. Even if he was just a figment of my imagination.
And so, I concentrated solely on my eyelids, willing them to lift, in the midst of his hypnotic caressing. Struggling against him, I ultimately won the battle and gained the ability to view the world through hazy, unfocused lenses. A part of me felt proud of having fought off his compulsion only to discover that his hand remained, carrying on with its mesmerizing allure.
As before, I didn't submit. This was my dream damn it. With determination, I grasped every ounce of available energy, pushed forward, and lifted my head. Hastily, I squinted at the spot that should've been his face, yet all I saw was a black void. My mind couldn't comprehend it. He existed flawlessly until his neck. Beyond that, there was nothing. Complete and utter darkness.
My pulse raced as my dream guy, once again, guided my face down to his chest. This time, however, his touch stimulated emotions that were racked with dread. Panic engulfed me, my intuition screaming bloody murder. Something was wrong with this situation, very wrong. And, with that last bit of insight, he gradually faded away.
I found myself swallowed up by the same black void that'd hidden his identity from me a mere second or two earlier. Terror's searing burn crushed my soul, as the universe taught me what it truly meant to be engulfed by the totality of emptiness. I saw emptiness. I smelled emptiness. I touched emptiness. And then I was emptiness. My sense of time and space evolved. All of it, everything, slowly disappeared into nothingness. And that's when I started to scream.
Chapter 1
My meltdown must've jolted me from the dream, nightmare, or whatever it was because I abruptly found myself sitting upright. The void had dissipated, thankfully, although opaque darkness still surrounded me. And, well, despite my newfound composure, my leftover screams continued to echo in every direction. A cave, maybe? But how...
Awareness flashed as a series of stabbing pains exploded through my neck and wrists. It all came in rapid succession, lungs burning with sharp inhalations, teeth chattering, hands trembling. And then it fully registered. I was cold and naked, lying on a dirty concrete floor. I desperately wished for this to be just another strange dream, yet my insides I knew otherwise. It seemed real, too real.
Deciding to assess the damage of my injuries, I used my hand to inspect the fist-sized gash along my neck's left side. I probed around it, in spite of the pain that this caused me, and within seconds my fingers were saturated with blood.
The edges of the wound were jagged and it felt deep. In short, the injury was bad.
With helplessness firmly rooting itself in my psyche, I moved on to check my wrists and quickly discovered a matching set of suicide cuts. You know, the standard slasher technique losers regularly employed to off themselves in the bathtub. On the upside, these injuries were scabbed over and nowhere near as bad as my neck. Regardless, the whole situation rattled me to the core.
"Okay, Luna, get your shit together," I muttered to myself, heartbeat racing. "First things first, my neck."
Now, you gotta understand, the sum total of my medical experience came from shows like ER and Grey's Anatomy. Nonetheless, I had to do something. Die trying, right? Plus, the actors made it look simple; they'd typically slow the bleeding by applying pressure with bandages. Since I didn't have medical supplies or even clothes to aid me, I utilized the next best thing. My bare hand.
An intense stab of pure agony tore through me almost immediately. And, frankly, I should've listened to my body's warning. I should've stopped there. But, smart old me, I kept going. In fact, I actually pressed a little harder. After which, my state of mind transcended into a punch-drunk haze. Again another warning. Did I listen? Of course not. I stuck with it until, well, until the cold cement slapped me hard in the face.
When I awoke sometime later, I rapidly grasped the reality that I'd botched my patch up job and lost consciousness from the pain. TV dramas aren't good substitutes for medical training. Surprise, surprise. If I wanted to live, I'd have to make it to a hospital. But how? I mean, it wasn't as though I could just call 911 and wait for an ambulance.
As my hands resumed their shaking, a multitude of questions ricocheted inside my head. How'd I get here? Was I kidnapped? Were my injuries life threatening? My heart thudded faster. Should I shout for help or stay quiet? What would happen if my kidnapper returned? Would I be tortured? Why'd I have cuts on my neck and wrists?
My thoughts twisted in frenzied knots for awhile, before I eventually realized that panicking wasn't getting me anywhere. I needed to take action. My gut urged me to bolt, to haul ass away from this nightmare. Nevertheless, I couldn't so much as see my hands, let alone navigate the area. Sadly, I'd have to take it a bit slower.
Like a blind person, I gradually felt my way around. There were no furnishings of any sort, simply smooth cement flooring connected to four concrete walls. No doors, windows, stairs, ropes, or ladders. Essentially, I was trapped in a man-made pit with no means of escape.
Just then, I heard a gravelly voice call out to me from above. "Hello, Luna. I'm glad you're awake."
I hesitated briefly, unsure if I should speak to him. Although, in the end, I decided to give it a try. Seriously, what did I have to lose? Perhaps I could convince him to help me. "Where, um, where am I?"
"I know you must have many questions. Alas," he paused to release a disinterested sigh. "I cannot provide answers."
Warm, wet tears started dripping down my cheeks and I secretly hated myself for showing weakness. Unfortunately, I couldn't elude the pull of my emotions. "Who are you?" I sniffled. "Why'd you bring me here?"
"Don't force me to repeat myself, child. I already told you. I cannot answer your questions at this time."
His coldhearted response pushed me over the edge of hysteria. "Let me go!" I shrieked, voice raspy and an octave higher than normal. "I'm bleeding! I need to get to a hospital!" And, when I finished my sentence, I completely fell to pieces. Blubber, snot, tears, and all. How embarrassing.
"Oh, child. There's no reason to upset yourself." He let go of another annoyingly audible sigh prior to resuming his lifeless monotone. "Drink from the chalice and you shall acquire the ability to leave the changing room. Furthermore, your wounds will heal on their own. There's no reason to go to a human hospital."
"What the hell are you talking about? There's nothing in here except for me and the cold cement walls. You assholes even stole my clothes!" Resentment simmered within me, steadily replacing the fear. "Beyond that, what makes you think I'm gonna drink anything you give me? I'm not a fool!"
"There's no need for anger," he cautioned, an air of condescension accenting his demeanor. "For now, all you can do is drink. Afterward, you'll be able to leave the room and have your questions answered. I give you my word."
Abstinently, I flopped down in the corner and curled my arms around myself, striving to hinder their shaking. "Why don't you give me clothes and a bandage for my neck? Or, better yet, let me go?"
"You can have clothing once you do as I ask."
"There's no goddamn chalice, you deluded psychopath. I've explored my lavishly decorated accommodations and there is no chalice. So quit screwing with me!"
I must've irritated him because his flat drawl morphed into something more commanding. "Now, now, child. Don't work yourself up. It's rather straightforward. Simply follow my voice. I'll lead you to it."
"How 'bout you g-give me some freaking c-clothes first?" I stuttered, teeth suddenly chattering from my plunging body temperature.
"I suppose a deal is be acceptable," he grunted. "If you allow me to guide you to the chalice, I'll ensure you're provided with proper attire."
He didn't sound as if he'd budge. And arguing the matter further was only good for one thing, wasting precious time. If I truly intended on avoiding hypothermia, I'd have to cooperate. Sigh. "Seems like I've got no other option. So, fine," I motioned at him with my hand, "lead away. B-but remember, you owe me clothes! That's the d-deal, asshole!"
He chuckled softly. "You're a feisty little thing, aren't you?"
"For real," I yelled, my furry escalating. "You c-can go fuck off!"
"And you have quite the dirty mouth."
Son of a bitch! He was enjoying this. "You're the one who k-kidnapped me and brought me here to this, uh, prison or whatever! You d-deserve anything I can dish out!"
"Alright, child, I see how this is going to be."
"Whatever, let's j-just g-get on with it."
"Ah, I'm glad you're beginning to see reason," he sneered, punctuating his words with more dark laughter. "Now, stand and walk toward my voice."
With resentment, I did as he said. My knees were wobbly underneath the weight of my body. However, if I concentrated, I was able to set one foot in front of the other. And, thank heavens, I had the wall for support. Nonetheless, each step forward still weakened me.
"Yes, that's it," he coaxed. "A little further."
My progress inched along until I finally stood beneath him. "Okay, I'm here and all I feel is the c-corner of the room. Like I t-told you earlier, no chalice."
Once again he exhaled loudly. "Be patient, child, and I'll give you the rest of the directions."
"God!" I snapped, shooting him an exasperated glare even though the darkness prevented him from seeing it. "What is this shit? Why are you enjoying watching m-me scurry aimlessly around this hole, n-naked and freezing?" I let the last two words stretch out to emphasize my truly vulnerable and exposed condition.
"You are wrong, child," he growled maliciously. "I receive no enjoyment from your suffering. My sole purpose is to lead you to your salvation. You're the one who's making this difficult."
Pausing, he waited for a couple seconds as if giving me a chance to reply. Nevertheless, when I simply gritted my teeth and remained silent, he continued in a more controlled manner. "The chalice is two feet above you on a ledge. It should be easy for you to reach. Be that as it may, take extra care while retrieving it. You'll only evade death by drinking its contents in their entirety. I wouldn't want your future to be stolen because of a clumsy accident."
I blanched, pangs of fear and anxiety striking me hard in the pit of my stomach. Until that instant, I hadn't allowed myself to dwell on the fact that I could die. Actually die! A river of pathetic tears flowed as I proceeded to hyperventilate for the first time in my life. My vision wobbled, my heart pounded, and my entire body shook. I despised the weakness, the helplessness, the sniveling self-pit
y. And then, holding my head high, I did what I'd usually do in a messed up situation. I got bitchy.
"Listen, old man," I huffed, giving him a nickname that'd hopefully get under his skin. "Killing me's gonna earn you a trip to the lethal injection chamber! Someone'll find out; they always do. And even dumb ass Kansas cops have CSI teams. You'll get caught. I guarantee it."
"I'm merely explaining your options," he retorted in an artfully unconcerned voice. "You need to be fully informed of the consequences of your actions. Live or die. It's your decision to make, not mine."
Fucking piece of crap! I wanted nothing more than to grab the stupid chalice and throw it up at him. But I didn't. For some reason, I kinda thought he was being serious. Well, however serious the totally insane serial killer type could be, that is. Plus, I wasn't an idiot. Playing along with his little game might be my only way to stay alive.
Therefore, with steadfast resignation, I stretched onto my tippy toes and carefully took hold of the cup. It felt much the same as the goblet we used during communion services at church. It had intricate designs inlaid on the sides and was definitely metal, probably gold or silver. Oh, and just to clarify, I've never been a bible thumper anything, more like a holiday christian. You know, easter, christmas, enough visits to save my soul. Although, in light of my current circumstances, maybe I should've went to church more. Sigh.
So, anyway, I used my trembling hands to ease the chalice downward while simultaneously trying my best to avoid spilling a single drop. Several nerve grinding moments passed before I successfully positioned it in the corner, then retreated to the center of my cell.
"Excellent. Now here's a robe. Warm yourself and understand that I'm a man of my word." As he spoke, a soft, fluffy ball of fabric landed against my feet. I hurriedly wrapped myself in it, automatically burrowing my frozen nose into one of the sleeves. "The next step is for you to drink. Moreover, you should consider saying a prayer for good measure."
I collapsed onto the floor, mind reeling. Why would I need to pray? I mean, he must be attempting to manipulate me into consuming something poisonous, right? Or possibly a date rape drug? Damn, I was in deep shit. Deep, deep shit. Still, despite everything, I squared my shoulders and reined in my speculation. It didn't matter what he had in store for me. If he wanted me dead, he'd have to do it himself. And if torture was what he sought after, he'd have to move forward with me wide-eyed and scowling.
The Chalice (Luna Vampire Series) Page 1