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“God, I fucking hate her,” a young man mumbled, slumping against the dirt wall.
There were silent, disgruntled nods of agreement and grunts of approval that followed as the others collapsed against the floor and walls, bodies utterly spent. Some stretched, others massaged their achy muscles, groaning in pain.
The young man squinted up at the glaring floodlight that kept the tunnel lit. How long had it been since he’d last seen the sun? He couldn’t recall.
Every day there was just more and more excavation to be done. They’d moved miles and miles deep into the earth. He was sure they’d run into magma soon. The air felt stale and damp, pressing in on the dust that coated his lungs.
A girl next to him inspected her nails. Dirt and blood was caked beneath them, her hands blistered and calloused from the physical labor they were subjected to on a daily basis.
… Daily being a bit of a stretch, as they had no idea when the sun was actually rising and setting.
How had they gotten here? How had they gone from worrying about studying and final exams to their indentured servitude to an evil… demon? God? He wasn’t sure.
The girl seemed unbothered, idly picking at the skin peeling from her palms.
“Don’t you hate her too?”
She shrugged, nodding.
“Yeah, sure. I mean, she’s practically Satan’s evil-er mistress. But at least she’s nice to look at.”
Chuckles broke out nearby. Some nodded in agreement, others looked disgusted.
“How can you find her attractive when she’s basically torturing us?”
She shrugged again.
“I don’t know. All I know is this: she’s hotter than the hell we’re digging towards. I’d let her fucking stab me. And I would probably thank her.”
A cloudy, shadowy mist swirled in tendrils from the floor in front of her.
Deep red lips hovered a breadth’s width from hers, the edges curling into a smile. Gunmetal-blue eyes flashed before hers in a way that made her stomach churn.
She gasped at the sharp stinging that radiated from her stomach.
A hot, threatening laugh heated the shell of her ear as warm blood flooded down the front of her shirt.
“ That can be arranged, my dear.”
The glistening silver dagger now buried to the hilt in the soft flesh of her stomach was the last thing she saw before her world spun and went black.
A gurgled “thank you” bubbled up from her lips with a ragged, blood-filled cough and her body tipped sideways, hitting the floor with a solid thud.
Blood dripped from the knife the woman held, coating the hilt, dripping onto her fingers. She smiled.
“Any other volunteers?”
The scuff of her shoe against the dirt was the only thing that could be heard as she swiveled to look at the young students before her.
What a pathetic group of imbeciles , she thought, tilting her head as her eyes zeroed-in on the… rather talkative young man.
She sauntered forward, the skirt of her dress seeming to float over the dusty floor, fabrics somehow too rich to be soiled by the earth.
“How about you? Don’t you just hate all of this? Hmm?” She hummed.
She watched his pulse race in his throat, as she ghosted the tip of the knife down his cheek.
His eyes were wide, his breaths now nearly matching his pulse.
“No? I suppose you don’t need more time to chat then. It would appear that you’re all ready for another shift.”
The students stifled a groan as the pulled themselves up, trudging back down the tunnel.
Back still pressed to the dirt wall, the boy looked toward the others, eyes avoiding looking at the crimson-haired woman before him.
Her lips quirked into a malicious smile.
She tilted his chin, pulling eyes to meet hers.
The sinister smile on her face grew as she brought the knife to her lips, dragging her tongue over the bloody blade. A grimace made its way across the boy’s face, his eyes closing as he tried to clear his mind of what he’d seen.
In an instant, her arm swung back and before he knew it, his throat had been opened, spurting blood onto the dirt floor, mixing into a thick, sanguine mud.
A cloud of dust rose as his body hit the floor and the Dean disappeared in a cloud of mist darker than night.
The sharp clack of high-heeled shoes on hardwood floors echoed around the mansion, leaving a dusty trail behind them with every step.
Blood dripped from her fingertips, still gripping tightly to the silver blade in her hand. Her whole body hummed with the thrill of a fresh kill, her muscles twitching, aching for more action.
Mattie heard the shuffle of the woman’s shoes and she knew: The Dean had arrived. She touched the edge of her locket, now jagged from having been broken. She gulped at the sinking feeling that filled her gut.
She felt a hard grip on her shoulder as she was spun around, a sticky-wet hand gripping her chin, fingertips digging into her skin before lips covered hers.
Lips that tasted of blood and adrenaline, curled into an infinitely pleased smile at the way Mattie’s body immediately responded to her touch. The Dean’s hand moved to the woman’s neck, leaving a trail of drying blood behind it.
Had there been any breath left in Mattie’s lungs, it would’ve been easily stolen.
Slate-blue eyes met hers for a moment, then sharp teeth bruised the skin of her neck, hands greedily moving to pull at her dress.
Lips left her neck only briefly enough to breathe,
“Take me to bed.”