Chapter IX

Her  head was throbbing. Just when she thought she was safe, she was at the mercy of the insane Michael once again. This time, she found herself lying on the cold, stone floor, her hands and feet tied to wooden posts, her body spread open as if she were a starfish. 

The rancid smell of rotten flesh and blood made her gag, but she had no time to react as she saw Michael hover over her, his crimson gaze glowing in the dark. 

"I see you're awake, my darling." he said with a smile. "I apologize for being too harsh, but then again, you have forced my hand." In his hand was Dorothy's journal, and he leafed through it, his facial expression changing from a smile to a frown, and an angry scowl as he threw the journal to the side. 

"What do you hope to achieve?" he asked, crouching down so his face was inches away from hers. "Why are you running? Why do you hate me so?"

She frowned in confusion. Was it not obvious enough that she hated him for keeping her there? For wanting to possibly take advantage of her and sacrifice her to some darker entity, based on the remains of the occult ritual she saw. 

"I... I want to get out of here..." she said, weakly. This wasn't the right answer, as Michael's face twisted in anger, and the way it changed terrified her. His already pale face grew paler, and the whites of his eyes blackened, the red irises seemingly floating amidst a sea of black. Thin, black veins ran from both sides of his face, making it seem like his face was falling apart. His arms grew blackened and seemingly rotten. 

"Look at all I had to do... all I had to go through!" he roared, his voice distorted and booming. "Look!!" He nearly ripped his shirt open, revealing a fist-sized hole on the spot where his heart was. The flesh there, much like everything else, was partially rotting and very pale. 

"I gave everything... everything, in order for you to come back... There was nothing I wasn't willing to do!" he said, closing his shirt. "But yet, you refuse to see my efforts. You do not even think to appreciate my sacrifices!" 

"And who asked you to rip your heart out and become a... a..." She tried to find the right words. 

"A monster!" 

The silence was deafening. Michael's crimson gaze narrowed in hate and anger at the sound of the word. Unable to contain himself, he slapped her across the face. Despite how rotten his hands and arms looked, he was surprisingly strong. She was sure her head would've flown off to the other side with the force of that smack. 

"Well, the way you think of me no longer matters." he said. "I'll get what I want, eventually. I always do." He drew out a long dagger from his inner pocket. The blade glinted against the candle light, revealing some dried bloodstains. "This will only hurt a bit, my love." He said gently as he gripped her right wrist and placed the blade against the skin of her wrist. 

"P-please... please don't..." she whimpered as she struggled against the restraints.

"Just a drop, my love. It won't hurt much, I promise you." Without a second thought, he cut a deep line across her wrist, the blood flowing through the cut. At this point she couldn't muster a scream as she was in so much shock from the pain. 

"Don't struggle..." he said, licking the blood off the blade as he set it aside and took a small, bronze bowl. He loosened the rope on her wrist and set the bowl close, making sure to fill it with her blood. "Now... the first step is done --- oh, what is this?" 

He noticed the glinting crystal key in her coat pocket and took it. "What could this be?" he said. "A way out? I think not!" He threw the key down, shattering it into a million pieces. This elicited a scream of horror from her as he tightened the rope again.

"Did that hurt, my love?" he said with a maniacal smile. "Well, it's nothing compared to what I have gone through. Now, I must be off once again. There are... a couple of things I need to care of. Please try not to escape again or else ---" 

He walked up to her and held her chin tightly. "---or else, I'll find you, dismember you, and drink your blood." He smiled, planting a kiss on her lips, as he walked away, laughing madly before disappearing in a cloud of black smoke. 

- - -

This is it then, she thought. Looks like there really is no escape. Her wrist still hurt from getting slashed, and worse, she couldn't dislocate it anymore. She was stuck there, tied to the ground in some dark, bloody basement, about to be sacrificed to the Devil or whatever dark entity Michael had struck a deal with. 

Her mind went back to the tapestry she saw. It depicted somebody seemingly exchanging something with the Devil. This might have been the very meaning of that tapestry, that indeed Michael had struck a demonic pact with Hell. But for what? That part still didn't make sense. He kept talking about 'bringing her back' and 'fixing everything'. 

Did it have something to do with the letter, she thought, remembering the old letter she saw in Michael's coffin. She recalled that it contained something about a cover-up. Also, the journal entry in the ruined study gave her some semblance of an insight towards what was happening.

Then it all made sense. 

Michael had failed in running the family business, if she understood everything right, and the 'deaths' in the letters must've been due to some contamination. On top of that, Dorothy died, but that part was still a mystery to her. 

How far is he willing to go, she thought to herself as she began to tug against the ropes, but this time, to no avail. He really made it tight this time around. I guess I'll find out when he gets back. After all, there's no escape for me. 

- - -

"You're still insisting on this silly mission of yours?" Basil said, chiding his brother Emile, who was getting ready to find the young lady again. "If the master finds you, you'll be twice as damned!"

"Listen, brother, Master Lucas tasked me to help her, and I shall do so to the best of my ability. If you choose to stay and slaver away to the bottle, it is your choice." Emile answered calmly. "After all, we are both dead anyway, and you need not worry about alcohol poisoning, while I have no need to worry about being hurt."

Basil sighed as he took another bottle. Despite being dead, the curse somewhat kept him and Emile corporeal enough to drink away. "Do whatever you want, but don't let the Master get you."