Within the Demon's Grip: Part One

Bonus Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Time floated by slower than it ever had before.

Natalia huddled against the wall, beneath the planer, a circle of light ablaze around her like some sort of accursed barrier. She whimpered, miserable with pain and fear. Her muscles cramped and shook, threatening to send her into the light ... where she would surely die. But somehow she held on, crushed against the cool rock wall, wishing for the comfort of cool darkness and shadows. She had never wished so feverishly for something in her life. It felt like she might go mad.

"And what then?" she hissed to herself. What would I do then? Where could I go now that ... this is part of my existence?

How was she ever supposed to feel safe again?

"H-Home," she answered in a watery whisper, fresh tears running down her cheeks. She could make it work somehow. If all else failed, she could shut herself in her bathroom. It had to work. It would certainly be more manageable than this.

But the longer she waited for nightfall, the more fatigued and grief-stricken she became. When shadows finally choked out the light, and she shakily made her way out from under the planter and through a heavy wooden door back into the manor, she collapsed in exhaustion, losing herself to deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Poor little Natalia," a voice rasped. "The magnitude of your injuries is rather impressive. No. Don't open your eyes just yet. Here."

Natalia felt something cool press against her lips. A pungent smell hit her nose, and her mind exploded with excitement. Her hands reached, fingers grasping at the sides of a short, squat cup. Or maybe it was a mug; she couldn't tell, and, really, it didn't matter. She was so thirsty. So hungry, too. Painfully so.

"Easy now. Drink it slowly."

Natalia felt her control slipping. Before she knew what she was doing she parted her lips; her hands guided the tilting of the cup, and suddenly a rush of thick, warm liquid rushed into her mouth and down her throat. A sense of euphoria rose in her stomach, spreading through her chest, her neck, her face. She felt a warm buzz, like heat rising in her cheeks. Natalia drank more, really tasting it. The flavor was complex. Rich and savory and sweet. The texture was thick and velvety. Like tomato soup made with milk. She swallowed mouthfuls down gluttonously, her body singing its praises as her aches and pains just slipped away, like water running down the drain.

Her dizziness and weakness faded, replaced with a sense of strength Natalia had never known. It was instantaneous. She felt giddy and energetic, but also like she could focus, like she could get things done. It was how she always imagined a good cup of coffee would feel, though it never did. It either hit too hard and gave her the jitters, or it was like drinking water: it did nothing. Even if she felt a burst of energy, it hardly lasted long at all; her fatigue always returned with the inevitable crash. Sometimes also accompanied by a headache. Coffee was not her friend, but this.... This was something else--

Realization struck her like a slap across the face. She opened her eyes to see Nosfroth standing over her, some gourd-like mug in his long-fingered hand. His skin was an eerie gray-white in the candle-light, dull like moldered bones. His black, puddle eyes held hers, unrelenting.

Natalia ripped her mouth away with horrified reluctance, practically choking on her last mouthful.

Of blood. She had drank blood.

"Shit," she gasped.

Natalia could feel it coating her lips, feel it spreading in her mouth, over her tongue and down her throat. She squeezed her eyes closed, ready to open them again, hoping her realization was just some paranoid suspicion and not the actual truth. Of course she hadn't just drank blood! And, of course, Nosfroth wasn't the one feeding it to her. That was just absurd!