Belly of the Beast

Chapter 49

A funeral procession had more smiling faces than we did as Dmitry ushered us to the gallery. Wren left our company to watch over Henry. She had played her role perfectly, but it seemed Dmitry was not fooled. He had taken every precaution to see that we didn't disrupt his perfect maniacal scheme. And there was still no sign of Terra.

While I had no intention of having Dmitry remove the curse, I still needed to find out how to do it before I blasted his ass to smithereens. At this point, we were flying blind and hoping for the best outcome. So, when the doors to the gallery opened, I was forced to get a grip and pretend I had my shit together. It was more for Vincent than anyone else.

The room looked the same as I remembered, like a bizarre museum with misshapen contraptions dangling over our heads and faces etched in marble watching through unmoving eyes. My gaze automatically landed on the endless staircase, but I didn't waste time gawking. Instead, I scanned the room for the source of the tortured growls. The problem was, I couldn't hear anything now. Only deathly quiet.

A shiver wracked my body, and I hugged myself as that urgent feeling returned with a vengeance. Of course, Vincent noticed my unease and slipped an arm around my shoulder. Dmitry said nothing as he brushed his fingers affectionately across the metal spokes of the staircase, drawing us deeper into the room, and my uneasy feeling grew.

Vincent's sudden intake of breath, had me slowing down, and when I glanced at him, the expression on his face forced another shiver through me. This one felt as cold as ice despite the intense heat I was holding inside my clenched fists. With a mixture of reluctance and desperation, I followed his gaze.

Dmitry had come to stand beside a large, rectangular box constructed of wooden slats. Standing on its long end, the box could accommodate a full-sized body, and that's what I found when I blinked my eyes to take in the surreal sight. Terra stood inside the box, which had the clear markings of a torture device.

The only body part that remained outside the slats was her head, separated by a thick plank of wood where a hole had been cut, allowing just enough room for her neck. Her toes barely touched the floor, forcing her to rely on her head to hold her up when her legs became too tired.

And that wasn't the worst of it. Another torture device surrounded her head. This one I recognized. It was a scold's bridle, used in the sixteenth century to punish women for speaking out against their husbands, or anyone else who didn't approve. Made of iron, a framework of bars crisscrossed Terra's head and a muzzle covered her lips. Attached to the muzzle was a bridle bit that entered her mouth, and based on the dried blood covering her chin, this version had a spike on the end that pierced the tongue if she tried to speak.

Due to the weight of the bridle, Terra's head was forced to one side, and her lids were closed. Dark, sunken flesh circled her eye sockets, and her cheeks looked hollow. Through the slats, I could see her bones sucked tight to her skin. Clearly, she had been starved. Was this the cause of the urgency I'd been feeling since we arrived? Was I too late?

I stood gaping at the macabre scene, hoping to find signs of life, while Dmitry wore a smug expression as he rapped on the box with his knuckles. "I believe you have all met, dah?" he said snidely.

I wanted nothing more than to rap on his face with my knuckles, but I wasn't going to blow our plan now. We had come too far, although that didn't mean I had to pretend not to hate him with every fiber of my being. "You're a loathsome piece of scum."

He shrugged. "I have heard worse. Actually, Terra has quite a filthy mouth. Zat is vhy I had to ensure she didn't tire herself out cursing me every time I came for a visit." He knocked on the box again, and Terra protested with a whimper. I was never so glad to hear a tortured groan in my life, and I stood in Terra's line of sight as her eyes fluttered open.