Body Tox (The Bodies duet #1)

Chapter 29

I walked upstairs, my body swimming in the liquor. I tipped the bottle, unable to get any more nectar of the gods.

Stupid bottle,” I mumbled, chucking the empty container into a corner and hearing the glass shards sprinkle on the wooden floor.

I made my way back up to the torture bed. Echo would finish snooping soon and come up to find that I was, in fact, a good boy and put myself to bed. I looped my hands in the taut chains, pulling my muscles and making them ache instantly.

I thought about my Little Wraiths taste. Her sweetness made me drool.

“Dammit, woman, hurry up.”

I made sure the chains were tight enough to keep me unable to wiggle my way out and do something dumb, like chasing down the woman to fuck her on a cross in the main hall.

That sounded exciting. What a devilish treat.

Lord knew I wasn’t an angel, but I was pretty sure sister Beatrice would crucify me for real if she ever found out.

I couldn’t hear anything over the crackling of the thunder, the damn weather rumbling the whole church, making it vibrate.

The chains made a soft noise, protesting from the horrible weather. It was so much louder up here from the broken window, and the rain was pouring in through the hole.

It made it cold up here, and I was starting to regret chaining myself past my ability to escape.

“Dammit, Echo, come snuggle. I need your ‘breast-esses’ to keep me warm.” I slurred, envisioning using Echos rack as a pillow.

I knew she’d punch me for trying, and the thought made me smile.

What the fuck? Since when did I smile at being punched?

“Stop thinking like that, you dumb fuck.” I chastised myself, my dick already popping up at the idea.

“No,” I said out loud.

Whether I was talking to my sudden hard-on or my frazzled brain, I didn’t know.

I listened to the raindrops dripping onto the wooden attic floor. The makeshift candle holders Echo had stuck under the problem areas were catching the drops and making a blip noise.

Those sounds felt like a clock ticking away.

Where the fuck was she?

“Little Wraith?” I hollered, hearing my drunk voice echo off the attic walls.

I frowned when a ‘shut your face’ wasn’t hollered back at me. I tested the chains, my adrenaline spiking at her non-answer. Did she get lost in this damn maze of a church?

It was huge. There were at least five hundred pews alone, much less all the little doors we saw at the staircases.

Had she gone to snoop in one of the rooms?

I tried to recall where I last saw her. She was walking down the east staircase, using her foot to knock at the doors.

Most were locked, and I had gotten bored. I didn’t follow her after that and instead went back up the staircase.

Those statues of holy people freaked me the fuck out. Now I was regretting my leaving her to fend for herself. I thought about my knowledge of this place.

There wasn’t much I knew.

Shit, I never veered too far in here. In fact, most of the girls I saved were outside. They were always walking back to that creepy as fuck cellar near the woods in the back or in the parking lot, going to some undisclosed location for “purification.”

I lost a few marks that way.

They had stuck the girls in their fancy-ass limos and drove off, leaving me to watch the terrified women’s faces in their white nightgowns.

“Fuck,” I said. I’d left Echo in an occult church because I wanted to get laid…I shook my head, sobering up by the minute.

“Echo!” I said again, louder, the sound vibrating my chains.

Again, there was no answer.

“Fuck!” I cursed. I knew this shit was going to fucking hurt. I braced myself, suddenly happy for the buzz of the alcohol in my system.

An artist gave some chick his ear. Would Echo appreciate me giving her my thumbs?

The crack made me wince, the chains falling to the wood floor. I stared down at my mangled thumbs, bent at awkward angles.

I didn’t have time to focus on that. I bolted down the shit staircase, hopping three steps at a time, yelling for Echo with everything I had in me.

The grand staircase was dark now.

The thunder and lightning died down. I couldn’t see all that well, and I relied solely on the candles below lighting up the room in a flickering orange glow.

I didn’t bother being slow and quiet. I ran to each door and kicked the fucker in.

I searched six rooms on the west side of the staircase, not finding shit but old papers, ointments, candles, and a bunch of church shit.

I could see a door ajar on the eastern side of the large prayer area, and I took off in a sprint, hopping over the ledge of the staircase and landing on my feet at a dead run to that door.

When I got there, it was so dark. The candles were not reaching the area like they needed to, and the room was filled with pews.

I got on my knees, crawling forward and smacking into a shit ton of metal candle holders and feeling papers on the ground under my hands. I ignored the papers, slowly moving forward and feeling for her heat, searching the air for her scent.

“Echo? Where are you, my Little Wraith?” I said, my voice faltering with the fear that crept up my spine.

Finally, toward the back, I felt her silky hair in the darkest corner. It was wet, and my stomach dropped.

I could smell the blood.

My hands coated in her sweet blood.

It was warm, with a spicy, sweet tang to the air that made me physically drool. I panted, the intense need to lick the floor so potent I had to bite my lip and hold my breath. If there was this much delicious blood…Echo was hurt.

I shook my head, my concern for Echo overpowering my need to bathe in her blood.

“Echo. Oh fuck, Little Wraith. I got you. It’s okay.”

I picked her up, nearly tripping over a toppled table on the ground and so many damn papers I felt like I was skating to the doorway.

I could hear her little moans of pain, her head lolling to the side, and her heartbeat pushing blood onto my forearm.

Shit.

I got to the doorway, her body lit up by that glow of the candles. She felt cold. Her face was frozen in horror. Her eyes were half open and half closed, bouncing around and seeing nothing.

“Echo,” I said as soothingly as I could manage.

“It’s okay,” I assured her, walking toward the warmth of those flames.

I picked up one of the candles and brought it close to her, examining her wounds.

She looked like she rolled on the ground. She had random papers sticking to her body. Her head was the only injury that she had that I could see in the dim light. That was when I realized that a toppled table must have been the culprit. Maybe it was too dark, so she tripped over the papers on the ground.

“Elephant in a china shop,” I chastised with a smile.

I poured the wax of the candle onto her head. She hissed, and I shushed her, watching the bleeding wound seal close and the blood stopped seeping from her damn head finally.

“Alive,” she whispered, that haunted look still plaguing her features.

“Yes, you’re alive, clumsy ass,” I said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Score reads table one, Echo nill.”

I winced at my thumbs, the weight of her body pressing painfully on the cracked digits.

I dislocated them both, so in order to correct it, I needed her to snap out of it. I was no better than a damn rabbit right now, only able to paw at things.

How did animals live like this? No wonder gorillas were the only animals known to beat their meat like people.

“Alive!” she shouted, her sudden fear amped up, her delicate hands grabbing my jacket and shaking the hem.

I blinked, jolted by her sudden outburst. She was in a trance of sorts. She didn’t look like she realized she was in the church at all. Or with me.

“Echo…it’s okay. I am here. You’re safe.”

“He’s…alive,” her whispered words were a warning.

Who was ‘He’?

I tried to ask her, but her beautiful eyes closed, her breathing even and calm in my arms. I grunted, adjusting her in my grip, feeling truly handicapped. I wasn’t sticking around here to find out the mystery .

I needed to get her to the safety of the attic, where I knew she hid her fancy little dagger in a jewelry box she thought I hadn’t noticed. I carried her up the stairs, trying to find any sign that we were not alone. There was nothing. No footsteps, smells, or open entryways.

I frowned. Maybe she was having a nightmare from knocking herself out on that table. I took her to the attic, grabbing an old burlap sack used to hold tins of liquor and throwing it on the altar slab.

I laid her on the marble, stripping off my shirt and jacket and laying it over her.

She stopped shivering and seemed more peaceful. I smiled. She looked so fucking breathtaking lying here with the moonlight shining down on her face.

It was angelic.

I crawled beside her, her body warming me instantly.

I ignored the pain of my damn thumbs and focused on her breathing, her scent, the cool rain aroma, and the soft tinkling of the passing weather. Eventually, I closed my eyes and fell asleep, and my Little Wraith was in my arms where she belonged.