Queen Of Blood

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Giselle awoke in darkness, as she had every day for the last two weeks or so. At first she’d tried to keep careful track of the passage of time. It seemed important, albeit for no immediately apparent reason. It’d merely been something to do, a simple task to occupy a mind that might otherwise obsess on things more disturbing. At some point she stopped trying to gauge the length of her imprisonment, and so now her best guess was two weeks. Two weeks of numbing existence in the dark and the cold.

She’d felt a deep humiliation upon being returned to the hanging cage, the prison she’d fought so hard to escape. A life had been sacrificed to make that happen. Her own conscience had died in the process. But it had all seemed worth it for a time. She’d had her revenge and for a while had known a kind of contentment. And in time contentment bred arrogance, which led to her downfall. She should have been so much more careful. How stupid she’d been to accept Schreck’s loyalty without question. That vile man. He was the reason she was in this awful place again, having suggested it when Dream and her friends had been debating about what to do with her. And he’d surprised her by knowing how to access the chamber. Just one more thing she should’ve guessed, one more example of how arrogance had blinded her. And now she ached for revenge again, but this time she knew she would never have it.

Her power was gone.

Well, not really gone. Not exactly. It still resided somewhere within her altered DNA, still floated in the microscopic spaces between molecules. She could feel the faint thrum of it in her every pore. That was the most maddening thing, that awareness, because the power was beyond her ability to reach. Dream had seen to that, infusing her body with a damping energy, an extraordinarily effective bit of blunt magic that blocked her every attempt to tap her own magical abilities. That Dream was able to direct energy so effortlessly boggled the mind. She was untrained. She’d never read any of the ancient texts Giselle had pored over during her years in service to the Master. She could accept the scope of Dream’s abilities as an accident of nature and genetics, a dormant thing stirred to life during her ruttings with the Master. She had a harder time understanding how the woman had come to direct that raw, wild energy with such precision and effectiveness. It was either a case of practice makes perfect, or Dream was some kind of magical idiot savant. Either possibility was equally galling. It meant her years of often tedious study had ultimately been for nothing.

As bad as that was, it was as nothing compared to the desolation she felt in the wake of Azaroth’s abandonment. She recalled her last communication with the death god and felt the same puzzlement she always felt. No words, just that mocking, echoing laughter. So unlike anything in her previous experience with the ancient entity.

Perhaps he’d been manipulating her all along, even all those years ago when she’d first invoked his name with a blood sacrifice after reading about him in one of the old texts. The death gods were old beyond human conception. It was presumptuous to assume to know why they did the things they did. Maybe Azaroth really had played her from the beginning, building her up with the intent of eventually betraying her. Wheels within wheels within wheels. Suffering begetting suffering down through the ages as the old ones spun out their endless, convuluted machinations. The death gods fed on suffering, this she knew. And she supposed Azaroth was feasting on her pain even now, enjoying the particular aged flavor of her despair.

An impulse caused her to call out to him. It didn’t matter that he probably wouldn’t answer, or that at best she would only hear that mocking laughter again. Her every fiber ached to know the truth. She realized it would not grant her peace, that it might even deepen her despair, but the need to know overwhelmed any other considerations.

She focused what she could of her will and called out to the void: AZAROTH! HEAR ME! I BESEECH YOU! WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME!

At first there was nothing. Just that darkness. That void. Then she felt a touch of warmth against her flesh, a subtle atmospheric shift, like the sigh of a lover against her neck. The warmth increased, displacing the cold that normally permeated the room.

Next, a pinpoint of light in the middle distance.

The light grew and pushed the darkness back. Giselle could see again, albeit dimly, the stone walls beyond the cage. The shimmering center of light in the middle of the room flared brighter still and grew to the size of a man. A mist billowed at the edges of the light and Giselle realized she was seeing a portal, a doorway between dimensions. She saw shadows within the light, forms moving, something coming closer. A shape resolved into the dark silhouette of a man.

The man stepped through the light into the dark chamber.

Giselle’s screams echoed off the chamber walls.

She screamed and screamed again. Screamed herself hoarse.

The man laughed softly and approached the cage. Giselle whimpered and scooted to the far end of the cage, making it rock wildly.

“Nooooo…” She moaned. Her mind rebelled, fought to deny the reality of what she was seeing. But he just kept coming closer, refusing to dissipate like any good hallucination should. “Noooo…nononono…”

The Master laughed again and said, “Yes.”

She groaned again. “How?”

He smiled. “I thrived in the afterlife, Giselle. You should have expected that. I destroyed the one you call Azaroth, usurped his position among the death gods. It’s me you’ve been communicating with during your recent troubles. I’m the one who demanded the blood sacrifice of your friend. You’ve belonged to me from that moment. You and your dead conscience.”

That mocking laughter again, filling the chamber, rattling her bones and triggering an ache behind her eyes.

Another whimper. “Kill me. Finish it.”

His expression shifted again, something that was almost sadness touching his handsome features. “No. Your final judgment is in the hands of others.” He stroked her cheek with the back of a strong hand. “I’m showing myself to you one final time to thank you. Your sacrifices have facilitated my return. For that, you have my eternal gratitude.”

Giselle wept. She was no longer capable of articulating her despair any other way. The light dimmed as the portal between dimensions began to close. The Master remained in the chamber with her a while longer, stroking her hair and delighting in the sound of her anguish as the darkness and cold enveloped them.