The Legend of the Eight: The Wicked (Book 2)

22: Bloodletting

TWENTY-TWO: BLOODLETTING
MARCH 28
WIL DIAMOND

SHE WAS ON THE FLOOR and around her, pillar candles provided faint light. She was in a room with stone walls, a stone floor, and no windows. There was a door. It was shut and if she had to guess, probably locked. She lifted her head—too quickly—and the blood rushed back. She blacked out for a few seconds and then slowly, her vision adjusted.

The air in the cell was rigid and stale. She recognized the lingering empty scent from earlier when she snuck into the Manor with Damon. Her eyes widened and she searched through the darkness.

Damon.

"Damon?" she cried out. Her voice bounced off the stones that held her captive. She tried to stand but was stopped upon the tug of a shackle around her wrist, holding her to the ground with its chain.

"Seriously Jeremiah?" she yelled though she doubted he was around to hear her. "Damn prick."

She closed her eyes and summoned whatever magical strength she had to the chains. She spelled an optimistic Recluda and then gave them a swift tug but they fought against her. She inhaled sharp as the metal dug into her skin and tears welled up in her eyes from the pain.

"Seriously?" she yelled again, louder that time.

Moments later, the door open and her eyes snapped to it. In walked two men—she'd never seen them before—and they crossed the room to her. One grabbed her arms while the other undid her chains and once her chains were off, Wil began to kick and punch wildly. But it was no use. The men were too strong. They dragged her down the hall like she weighed nothing at all and at the end of the hall was another room. Much like the first, it was dark and empty, and after the men dumped her there, they left silently and latched the door shut behind themselves.

On the ground, Wil pushed her hair out of her face and huffed, taking a look around. She squinted through the darkness and there, along the back wall, was a figure. She wasn't alone. A girl lay crumpled against the wall like she'd been thrown there and her chest rose and fell weakly. She was alive, but barely. Wil called out to her but she didn't react so quickly, Wil crawled over to her, scratching the palms of her hands on the stone beneath her.

She reached the girl and saw her dark hair covered her cheeks, hiding her face behind it. Carefully, Wil flicked it up and revealed the girl's identity. Then she gasped.

Chloe Lawson. Aka the new girl. Aka Damon's secret sister.

She grabbed Chloe by the shoulders and shook.

"Wake up," she whispered quickly. Alone, they were useless but together, they had a chance of breaking out of there. "Come on. Come on. Come on. Please, Chloe. Please wake up."

Chloe began to stir and Wil exhaled a breath of relief. She pushed her hair back again and as she did, the door opened again. She froze.

The man who entered was one Wil knew well. His tall, lanky figure like something out of a horror film. His dark, hollow face that trapped shadows within it. The star-shaped scar on his hand. The twisted, vengeful look in his eyes.

Jeremiah Stone.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he teased, tapping his talon-like fingers together.

"What do you want?" she growled. "Where's Damon?"

Jeremiah began to cackle. "I almost forgot. You're my son's new plaything, aren't you?" He snapped his fingers and beside him, Damon appeared, stumbling into the room from wherever Jeremiah had been keeping him. He looked confused and when he saw Wil, he rushed over to her and pulled her into his arms.