The Crimson Covenant: The Complete Duet

Chapter 9

Iknow I’m in a bed. The mattress is soft, and the sheet over my body is smooth. I hate the space I feel. All the space around me. The chill of the open air.

Not safe… not safe…

Without opening my eyes, I slide off and feel the safety of the floor. The solidness of the ground.

But arms meet me before I can get underneath the bed.

‘You’re not going back under the bed. We’re going to talk about this, Pixie,’ Shaw says as he returns me to the edge of the bed. I sit there. My eyes closed to avoid the agony the light offers. My body is so spent he has to hold me upright. ‘I know you’re in pain, but we must discuss this.’

‘W-will your blood help me?’ I ask, lowering my head and wishing that the red-hot agony inside would end. ‘It really hurts.’

‘No. It won’t help. Not with this. All witches go through this when they connect to their Kindred. Only time and practice will help you with the pain.’

I slump and find myself meeting his chest. I have no energy to pull away. He lets me fall into him.

‘Tell us when you connected to your other Kindred,’ he says, his tone low and soft. ‘The dark mirror. Tell us.’

‘I didn’t,’ I reply. ‘I hadn’t.’

‘Please,’ he sighs, his hand resting on my back. ‘Don’t lie to me. I don’t want to force you to answer.’

‘I swear it, Shaw.’ My voice breaks as it all sinks in. It really hits me, and the weight of everything becomes too much to bear. ‘I thought I was an Earth Witch. I was going to marry Cole. I didn’t have a Kindred. I’ve never connected to anything. I shouldn’t be here. None of this should be happening.’

My tears soak into his shirt, and when I start to openly sob, his entire frame goes utterly rigid around me.

‘It’s okay, Pixie,’ Archie soothes. ‘You didn’t want to marry an entitled little shit like Cole anyways.’

‘Oh,’ I sniff. ‘I wasn’t going to. Not since I caught him fucking my best friend in the arse the day before the rite.’

‘He did what now?’ he asks, his voice slightly higher.

‘I told him to keep his shit-covered dick away from me, and I punched him in the face. Worst birthday of my life.’

‘Bet he took that well.’ Shaw lifts my chin. ‘Is that why you were running away from him?’

‘Running?’

‘I saw you hit the barrier surrounding your village,’ he tells me. ‘You fell as you struck it.’

‘The man under the hood,’ I realise. ‘You were standing beyond the barrier. You tried to get me to stop from hitting it. Why?’

‘I knew it would have you on your pretty little backside,’ he teases. But his eyes narrow, and his ease fades. ‘You ran, Pixie. That’s punishable by death. To attempt to pass through the barrier without your leader’s consent is-’

‘Sometimes, death is preferable,’ I cut in. ‘Sometimes, death is worth risking… for freedom.’

‘Are you not free back home, Pixie?’ Archie asks.

‘Please,’ Dorian scoffs before I can answer. ‘She’s lived a life of privilege. If all she had to do was marry a prick like Cole as punishment, then she had it good.’

I laugh. My head feels like it’s cracking when I do, but the idea of me living a privileged life demands laughter.

‘Tell us then,’ Dorian jeers, his arms folding across his chest. ‘Tell us why you tried to run. Tell us of your woeful life.’

‘None of your business.’

‘She’s a liar, Shaw,’ Dorian insists. ‘She is not just a blood witch. You know what those Kindreds mean. You know what that makes her.’

‘What does it make me?’ I look between them.

‘You think it a joke?’ Dorian growls. ‘You think that you can lie to us… to me… About what you are? About what you can do?’

‘I’m not lying.’

‘I know what it is to be hounded by the shadows. To be haunted by the dead.’ He storms towards me, anger brimming in the dark recesses of his endless eyes. ‘You would be mad by now if you had not known how to protect yourself from them.’ He fiddles with the many talismans and charms around his wrist. ‘You would be insane. You must know what you are and how to control it. Necromancer.’

I manage to summon the strength to sit on my own.

‘I have nothing to say to you, shadow master.’

‘Oh. But you do.’ He pulls a doll from his pocket and grips it tightly. ‘You will tell me.’ He squeezes. My chest feels as if his arms are around me, not the doll. ‘Tell the truth, Poppet. Or I will break you into pieces.’

I fall to the floor, my bones creaking deep inside me.

‘Tell me why you ran.’

‘F-f-fuck you!’ I double over.

He leans down.

‘Tell me why you ran on the day of the Rite. It was because you knew what the fire would declare you. You knew-’

‘Cole threatened to have all his friends hunt me down on the Rite if I refused to be his wife,’ I reply with a painful groan. ‘And my father was determined to sell me off to the highest bidder, no matter what.’ I look up at him. ‘HAPPY?!’ He eases his grip on the Poppet.

‘Why did you steal their Grimoire? If what you say is true and you’re just a simple witch, you’re not powerful enough to use it. It’s useless to you.’

‘Because fuck them. That’s why. They turn on me, I take their fucking Grimoire. If they want it back, they can come and beg you for it. Or you can burn it and send them the ashes. Whatever hurts them most.’

‘Are you not worried that you left your father behind? The Coven will kill him.’

‘Let them,’ I reply quietly, avoiding meeting their gaze. ‘My father’s just as bad as the rest of them.’

I blink and feel a few warm tears slide down my cheek. My fucking father, who traded me for wealth and position, then abandoned me to a long and painful death at the hand of my coven. Who took off and left me to these monsters.

The image of him running away as they tied me to that tree will never leave me.

‘Did you know about the Dark Mirror Kindred?’ Dorian asks, his fingers flexing on my doll.

I shake my head and feel him start to squeeze.

‘You can crush me all you like, Shadow Master,’ I warn. ‘But unless you want me to lie to you, that’s my only answer.’ I force myself up. The room spins as I face them, but I’ll be damned if I’m on my knees at their mercy. Shaw is on his feet, too, and all three watch me closely. ‘Use your claim to order me to speak. Break my bones. I am not lying!’

‘The claim marks control actions,’ Shaw tells me. ‘Not words. And it also protects us from your blood magic.’

I shrug and throw my arms up in defeat.

‘Then you will have to take my word for it.’

Shaw looks at the two others, his brow raised. They both nod.

‘Then you leave us little choice.’

There’s a loud thud. Then another. Shaw has slammed his foot on the floor in a very familiar rhythm.

‘No…’ I whisper. ‘Don’t.’

‘Furatus aer,’ he says.

I react on instinct, going to Shaw and kneeling before him. I look up, the obedient slave. His possession.

How did he know about this? Only my father knows it. This isn’t possible.

‘Shaw. She’s choking,’ Archie says, charging forwards. ‘She’s not bloody breathing!’

‘Your commands are to answer my questions truthfully. As long as you do, I permit you to breathe. Understand?’

I nod and gasp in the air.

‘Tell me about the Dark Mirror Kindred,’ Shaw commands.

My words aren’t my own. Nothing of me is. It’s his, just as it was my father’s.

‘I see shadows in the mirror,’ I reply, words spilling from my lips with no command from me. ‘I have for as long as I can remember.’

‘That’s why you wanted me to remove the mirror yesterday?’

I nod.

‘Tell us more.’

‘I hear them sometimes, speaking to me. I feel what they felt when they died. The longer I look at them, the louder they get. The more I hear them, the more real they become.’

‘What do you mean?’ he asks, stepping closer.

‘I feel what they felt.’ I groan as I try to fight it. But there is no fighting it. There never was, and there never will be. ‘The rope around their neck. The fires on their skin. The stones crushing their bones. The water filling their lungs.’

‘When did you link to this Kindred?’

‘I DON’T KNOW!’ I yell back, spit flying from my lips. ‘I keep telling you!’

‘She’s telling the truth. She can’t lie to me when triggered like this,’ Shaw says.

‘How do you know about this?’ I demand. ‘Did my father tell you about the trigger?’

‘I saw it in your dreams. I didn’t want to use this, but we need answers, and there was no other way to get the truth from you.’

‘But there are no marks on her, Ronan,’ Archie reminds him. ‘Her skin is unblemished. Utterly clean. No marks whatsoever. If she has had blood magic and a dark mirror kindred since childhood, someone performed the Rite with her as an infant to unlock her blood magic.’

Shaw steps closer and scans my face.

‘And she knows nothing of it, or she would be telling us so. This trigger is old magic, and none can fight it.’ Shaw looks down at me, still kneeling. ‘It takes years to get a woman under control like this. Many spells and potions. Your father was determined to get you under control.’

‘Many females of my coven are given a trigger, Shaw. It’s not uncommon. Especially the unruly ones.’

‘You, unruly?’ he smiles. ‘That I can believe.’ He looks me over again. ‘The fact remains that you have the black mirror Kindred and no marks to show it. Not even your necromancy kindred mark has appeared from the cat. How?’

‘A glamour?’ Dorian suggests. ‘Would be a powerful one, but she could have a glamour on her?’

Shaw takes off my engagement ring and, seeing no change, shoves it in his pocket. He then runs his fingers over my bracelet and stills.

'This has magic. Who gave you this, Pixie?’

‘My mother.’

‘Have you ever taken it off?’

‘No. I swore to…’ My words trail off as a painful realisation hits me. I look up at Shaw. ‘She made me swear never to take it off.’

‘Who?’

‘My mother.’

He grips it.

‘I’m going to take it off, okay?’ he says.

I get the feeling his asking isn’t really asking. I nod and take a shaky breath.

He slides it off.

‘Fucking hell…’ Dorian whispers, his eyes wide as he looks at me. ‘Ronan…’

Shaw takes my chin between his fingers and lifts it. His lips are parted, and his brow furrowed as he examines me, slowly moving my face from left to right.

‘What the…’ he mutters.

Dorian lifts my left arm.

‘Look.’

They inspect my arm. When I look, my stomach drops.

‘What is that?’ I ask.

My arms are covered in scars and markings. More than one. Dozens, all over me. I pull up my sleeves, horrified to see them go higher.

‘What have you done to me?!’ I look up at them.

They stare at me like I’m a wounded animal, desperate to be put out of its misery.

‘Not us,’ Dorian says, holding up the bracelet my mother gave me, looking at it with disgust. ‘That’s one powerful glamour, Ronan.’ He sniffs it. ‘Potent earth magic created this.’ He scans the scars. ‘Who the fuck did this to you?’ he whispers so quietly, I don’t think it was even intentional.

I keep looking at my body. There are so many scars and marks on me. I remember my father pushing me down the stairs one night when he was drunk. I cut my arm so badly that he had to sew me up. I was amazed that after the cut healed, there was no scar.

But there is. A long and jagged line straight down my forearm.

And so many others.

‘I… I don’t scar…’ I manage. ‘You did this. It’s a trick.’

I never have scarred. No matter how deep the cut or hot the burn. My skin is pure and unblemished. It always has been

‘You do,’ Shaw corrects me. ‘The bracelet conceals them. You’re smothered in scars, Pixie.’ He sounds sad.

‘A glamour…’ I repeat in a hush, my brain trying hard to catch up and understand. My gaze becomes transfixed on the dark red marks like lightning under my wrist. They create an intricate pattern. ‘W-what…’

‘Those are your kindred marks,’ Archie says, biting his thumbnail. ‘Fucking hell. I don’t think I have seen so many scars on another in my entire-’

‘Enough, Archie!’ Shaw orders. ‘You can stand. I’m finished.’ He sits and looks at the two others. ‘Her earth witch mother knew what she was and hid it. Put that glamour on her to hide the blood magic Kindred.’

‘Clever. And powerful,’ Dorian says, still looking at my mother’s bracelet.

‘I need a punishment,’ I tell them in a shameful hush.

‘Sorry?’ Shaw asks with a raised brow.

‘I obeyed your command. But I need a punishment before the trigger can be ended. A punishment for needing to be commanded to obey, or in a second, I won’t be able to breathe again.’

‘What kind of punishment?’

I shrug, not eager to give him any ideas. ‘It has to hurt.’

‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

And that’s it. The trigger takes hold, and I can’t fucking breathe.

In a quick move, I pull off Ronan’s belt from his middle and thrust it into his hands. I assume the position.

I'm on my knees with my head protected by my arms. Ready.

But no strike comes. No lashing.

I violently flinch when I’m touched. But it’s his hands, not the belt. He makes me sit.

‘I said I am not going to hit you.’

My eyes remain glued to the belt. He looks at it. I shove it towards him, feeling the lack of air taking hold.

‘You triggered her and didn’t know she needed to be beaten afterwards?’ Archie snaps. ‘For fuck sake, Shaw.’ He furiously grabs my dress and tears it down the middle, exposing the back I offer. ‘What the fuck!’ Archie hisses, falling to his knees beside me. His hand runs along my spine, making me wince. ‘What the fuck is this!?’

Shaw hoists me up and grips my arms tightly.

In a low growl that makes my insides cold, he demands, ‘Was this your father? Who else?’

All I can do is suffocate.

Dorian takes my face and forces me to look at him. ‘No one is beating you. Breathe!’

‘She won’t breathe until the punishment is done,’ Shaw says. ‘How long has he been doing this to her?’

‘Judging from the mess of her back, years,’ Dorian replies. ‘Her lips are going blue. Shaw, you gotta do something.’

‘Breathe!’ Archie commands, his claim burning.

Nothing.

Shaw retakes my face in his hands and looks deep into my eyes.

‘Can I choose the weapon?’ he asks. When I don’t answer, he shakes me. ‘CAN I CHOOSE?’

I nod. But I don’t want him to choose. The belt is what I want. It will break my skin but not my bones.

‘How many, Pixie?’ he urges.

I start to fall, and my vision is fading.

‘HOW MANY HAVE YOU BEEN CONDITIONED TO TAKE?!’

I hold up ten fingers.

‘He will pay for doing this to you,’ he says before flipping me over his knee.

His palm slaps my backside hard. As soon as he strikes me, I take in a deep gasp. Air floods my body, and the room spins from the sudden influx of oxygen. I break into sobs. Confused, shameful and overwhelmed sobs.

Could I get any lower? Could I lose anything more?

‘Count,’ Shaw orders.

‘O-one,’ I reply through my sobs.

Smack.

‘Two.’

‘This is fucking sick. Even for me,’ Archie mutters, taking my hand as I count. I bury my face and try to pull away. ‘She’s programmed to be hurt, or she can’t breathe?’

He grips my hand as if in encouragement and comfort.

Smack.

‘Three…’ I breathe, the harsh slap radiating through my entire body. Sweat builds on my brow, and my fingernails dig into his palm. He only holds me tighter. ‘This is so humiliating.’

‘Don’t you dare feel shame. Not for this.’

After every blow, I count. Shaw hits me hard, but not as hard as he could. And nowhere near as hard as my father would.

There’s pain. There has to be pain, or it doesn’t count.

Tears spill mercilessly down my cheeks, and I fall limp, lost to the pain and the utter shame of this whole thing. Laid over his knees and being spanked by my kidnapper.

Smack.

‘Six…’ I whimper.

His palm rests on my backside, giving me a firm caress.

‘Relax,’ he says gently before delivering another blow, making me whimper. ‘Count, Pixie.’

‘S-Seven.’

Smack.

Dorian growls and paces the room. ‘Not so hard,’ he snaps.

‘It’s as hard as it needs to be without leaving a mark.’

Eight. Smack. Nine. Smack.

I can’t even move.

I have nothing left. No sobs. No screams. Silent tear after silent tear falls.

Smack.

‘Ten,’ I whisper through my dry throat.

I go to move away. But Shaw holds me down.

‘Stay still, Pixie,’ he orders, pulling down my dress. ‘Just stay still and catch your breath. You’re okay.’

‘Okay?’ Archie hisses. ‘She’s not okay. Have you seen the state of her body? Those scars go back years.’

‘I see it, Arch. I had no idea the covens still did this. It was outlawed.’

‘This isn’t what was supposed to happen, Ronan. She’s not what she’s supposed to be. A brat. A cold-hearted, lying, entitled princess. A blood witch. Just like the others were. Evil and cold. That’s what you said. She’s sobbing, Shaw. She’s so afraid, I can smell it. She's so… broken.’

‘Archie. Now is not the time.’

‘When is the time, Ronan? When she tries to cut her throat as she hides under one of our beds? After someone triggers her, and we have to beat the hell out of her before she suffocates? Or maybe when a spirit possesses her? She’s been given Skullcap wine. We all know what that stuff does and why it’s used. I was okay with keeping her locked up when she was the enemy, but she’s not the enemy, Ronan. She’s not like the others.’

‘Enough!’ Ronan’s word reverbs off the stonewalls. ‘That’s enough,’ he sighs. His fingers run down my skin again.

I got such comfort from my bracelet. My mother made it for me when I was little. It meant something. It meant she loved me.

Now, it means something much darker. And I don’t know what, exactly. Did she know it was a glamour? What was she trying to hide? The scars? The Kindred markings? I’ve worn it since I was a child. Since she healed me as a baby and made me swear never to take it off.

Shaw examines my body, running his finger along the various scars he’s found. I don’t want to look. Seeing the state of my arm was enough.

I sit. Shaw remains on his knees but gives me my personal space. I hold my torn dress to my chest and struggle to look any of them in the eye.

I wish they would leave. I don’t want them to see me like this. I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.

The room is silent. All I feel are their eyes on me.

‘Did your father give anyone else your trigger?’ Shaw asks finally.

‘I don’t know.’ I sniff and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. My gaze lands on the bracelet.

I struggle to get myself onto my feet, swaying as I stand. Shaw rises with me, his arms rigid as if ready to catch me.

‘You’re not looking too good there, Pixie,’ Archie says. ‘You’ve gone pale… er.’

My legs give way.

I’m caught by three sets of arms and never meet the floor.