Grave Visions(103)

Ryese switched his grip so only one hand held my throat. I managed a trickle of air, but the world was fuzzy now, my arms not responding. With his free hand, he dug in his coat. I tried to focus, but darkness clung all around me. My blink seemed too long, and I was sure I’d lost seconds.

“Her knight is a problem, though. I had hoped the challengers would soften him up more than they have. As you’ve probably noticed, I’m no fighter. In a fair duel I have no chance of winning against him. But he has a weakness.” Ryese pulled three vials of glittery red liquid from his pocket. “You are his weakness.”

Ryese uncorked the first vial with his teeth. I had a sinking suspicion I knew what he planned.

No. Oh no.

I pressed my lips together hard. No. No. No.

I was hurt, and I hadn’t had enough air in some time now. Ryese pulled the corks on all three vials. He smiled at me, all malicious delight. Then he released my throat and pinched my nose with one hand before lifting his weight off my chest.

I needed air. Needed to breathe. It had been too long. My body betrayed me, my mouth splitting. Ryese didn’t hesitate, but upended all three vials into my mouth.

I tried to spit. Fought the liquid dribbling into my throat.

I lost.

The Glitter was between me and much needed oxygen. My body swallowed compulsively before sucking in a jagged breath.

No.

Ryese’s smile spread further, the poisonous look of a happy snake. Then he rose in one fluid movement.

“I’ll leave you to it then, Lexi,” he said, striding toward the door. He paused before vanishing into the threshold and turned. “Enjoy your nightmares.”

Then he was gone.





Chapter 31





I lay on the floor gasping for several ragged breaths. Then I rolled onto my knees. My head spun, nausea sweeping over me. Actually, considering I’d just been force-fed an overdose, getting sick was probably a good idea.

I stoked the nauseated sensation, shoving my finger down my throat. The burn of bile crept up my esophagus, but as I doubled over, only dry heaves shook my body.

No. I couldn’t have absorbed the drug that quickly, could I? I didn’t know. I’d never used a recreational drug, and this one was a magical drug. Who knew how it behaved. That didn’t stop me from trying. But despite the growing sickness crawling through me, nothing left my body.

There was no help for it. I just had to get out of here. Get somewhere safe—which right now probably meant getting the hell out of Faerie. How long would it take for the drug to begin affecting my senses? I tried to remember anything useful from the victims I’d raised—but they’d all died. How helpful was that? Even the victims who hadn’t died from their hallucinations had died from some sort of magical burnout. I was fae, I had my own glamour, would that save me?

Three vials.

Shit.

I needed to get up. To get out. My head felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton, my thoughts sloughing through thick syrup to reach the front of my mind. I pushed upright and the world swam.

I swallowed hard, waiting for the dizziness clawing its way through my mind to clear. It took longer than I wanted, the moments passing with the pounding of my pulse in my temples.

My dagger was still several feet in front of me, and I crawled to it, picking it up. The familiar buzz against my hand, my mind, was reassuring. But what the hell could a dagger, even an enchanted, semicognizant one do to protect me from a drug?

Nothing. I had to get out of here. But I didn’t put the dagger away, instead I clutched it as I attempted to get my feet under me.

It took two attempts to climb to my feet, and as I finally reached them, a dry crackling sounded behind me. I stiffened, the skin along my spine going tight. I was alone in the room, I was sure of that. Which meant whatever made that sound, was probably created by the drugs.

I twisted, turning in slow motion, feeling like the extra in a horror movie. The stack of bones piled in the corner rustled, the entire pile shaking as if trying to dislodge the icy slush gathering on the bones. A skull tottered and then tumbled down the side of the stack. It rolled across the floor, stopping only a few feet from me, grinning its ghastly smile.

I stared at the skull for several panic-filled moments before my gaze darted back to the pile of bones. They rustled and cracked like dry reeds. Then a meaty hand burst from the center of the pile. A second hand followed, like a zombie clawing its way from a grave.

I backpedaled, trying to ignore the way the room lurched around me. I nearly fell twice, my feet tangling under me, my legs so very heavy.

I reached the far wall and glanced around. Ryese had gone this way, I knew he had. But now there was no threshold, no door.

Damn.

Had Faerie moved it? Or was I hallucinating it away?