Night of the Tiger(3)

Aimee suddenly realized she’d moved her hands. She was no longer frozen in place. Somehow, the lament of the beasts had broken the spell she’d been under. Not taking her eyes off the devil in front of her, she lowered her hands from her ears and took a step backward. Something crunched beneath her foot, but she didn’t look down, telling herself it was stone, not bits of bone from others who had been lured to this place.

She had to escape.

He smiled at her, sweeping out his arms to encompass the creatures around him. “There is no escape, sweet Aimee. Unless I allow it.” His taunting smile had anger bubbling up inside her, shoving aside some of the fear surrounding her.

He wouldn’t allow. This was her dream. Hers. She was in control here.

Like Dorothy in the Land of Oz, she closed her eyes and concentrated on being tucked safely back in her bed. She even thought about clicking her heels together even though she was barefoot and there wasn’t a pair of ruby slippers in sight. Everything went silent and she breathed a sigh of relief before opening her eyes again.

She screamed. Or rather she tried to. Sheer terror tightened her vocal cords, making her scream sound more like the squeak of a mouse. And that’s what she felt like—a small, brown mouse in the presence of a great, hungry cat.

Hades’ cruel smile mocked her attempt to escape. He leaned forward, his breath hot on her face. “This isn’t Oz, and you most certainly aren’t Dorothy.”

Oh, crap, he can read my thoughts. There was no other way he could have known about her Wizard of Oz reference. No wonder he’d laughed when she’d thought that evil should be ugly. He knew exactly what he looked like.

He brushed his finger over her jaw and down her neck, leaving a sizzling brand on her flesh as he went. She flinched, but didn’t cry out.

“So brave.” Lowering his hand, he studied her. “How much courage will you have when the beast comes for you? Will you trade your life for his?”

“What beast?” She hadn’t meant to ask, but the question was past her lips before she could stop it.

Hades shrugged. “Who knows? Only you can decide that. You hold the fate of the beast in your hands.” He wrapped his fingers around hers, squeezing tight. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying. His touch burned. A whisper of singed flesh assailed her nostrils. “Such small hands. Weak.”

Cruel pleasure lit his dark eyes. “You will be the new lady of the beast, at least for one of them.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. It was filled with a cruel expectation that froze her from the inside out. Even the demons ringed around them shrank back at the sound.

“I don’t understand.” There was something important happening here. Something she needed to know. She gave herself a mental shake, dismissing the thought. The only thing she needed to be concerned about at this moment was getting out of this nightmare.

“That’s right,” he crooned as he released her fingers. She pulled her stinging hands close to her chest, cradling them there as he continued. “You just have to worry about yourself. Serve up the beast to save yourself, and everything will be just fine.” Hades leaned down and stared directly into her eyes.

Flames jumped in the depths of his pupils. Or maybe it was his irises. His eyes were so black it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Aimee could see her death reflected there.

It was a horrible, never-ending torture. Her flesh burned from her body, only to regenerate and burn yet again. Over and over, it went on for all eternity. She could smell her scorched skin, hear the sizzle of her hair before it went up in smoke, feel the flames eating her internal organs and continuing on all the way to her bones until all that was left was ash.

“That’s right,” he whispered in her ear like a lover, his hot breath searing the delicate skin. “That is your fate if you don’t give me what I want.” He took a step back and glared down at her. “Don’t disappoint me.”

The air thickened, becoming too hot to breathe. Aimee coughed and began to choke as it filled her lungs. Her head swam and she fell to her knees. Her vision dimmed. Voices filled her head, promising torture and death. She had to get up. She couldn’t stay here. She didn’t belong in this antechamber of Hell.

Desperately, she pushed herself up, only to stumble and fall again. Her hand skidded on the damp earth and her face hit the ground. It was less stifling here, the air not quite so hot. She dug her fingers into the cool dirt and hauled herself forward. It was only a few inches, but it was a start.

It would be so easy to lay her head down on the ground, to just give in to the forces surrounding her, to accept her fate. She could hear the hiss of voices behind her encouraging her to quit fighting, to accept the inevitable.