Bloodline (Paranormal Romance, Dark & Twisted) Saving Demons Series Book 1

"I'm really sorry, Isabelle," Aine said, while she synched the rope tight around Isabelle's wrists. "This was so not my idea." Aine had said this to Izzy about twenty times now, but it didn't make Isabelle feel any better about the situation she was in.

  Everything went dark when Aine wrapped a black bandana around Isabelle's eyes and tied it at the back of her head.

  "I really thought you wanted to talk about your salvation, Aine," Isabelle said with a sniffle. One moment Isabelle remembered standing excitedly in front of Aine, about to open the bible to the book of John, in Chapter Three, verse sixteen, and read to Aine, when suddenly Aine grabbed her by the hands and started tying her wrists together with rope.

  "I do!" Aine put Isabelle in the back of Aine's black Explorer and closed the door. Isabelle realized that her other senses were heightened, now that her ability to see had been taken away. She could hear Aine's boots crushing gravel as she walked to the driver's side door, the little click from the hinge as she opened it, the soft swish of fabric as she slid behind the wheel. "I just can't talk to you about it tonight, Isabelle. Devine gave me strict orders to bring you straight to her."

  "Why did you blind fold me?" Isabelle asked, shifting uncomfortably in the seat. It was difficult to sit this way with her hands tied behind her back.

  "I'm not really sure," Aine said. She started the engine. "Oh, crap! I almost forgot!" Aine got back out of the truck, opened up the door beside Isabelle and dug around in what sounded like a backpack or a cloth bag. "Isabelle, you're probably going to hate me for this, but I gotta do it, ok?"

  "Do what?" Isabelle tensed, not knowing what to expect next. When Aine took Isabelle's forearm, Isabelle jumped.

  "It's not going to hurt, ok? It's just a little prick. I'm so sorry. For real! I really don't want to do this, Isabelle. But if I don't, I'll get in really big trouble."

  Something tightened around the upper part of Isabelle's arm. There was a clinking sound, followed by a light tapping sound. Then there was nothing but silence for a few, short seconds. Aine took Isabelle by the forearm again. "Just relax, ok? It's just a prick."

  Something sharp poked the underside of Isabelle's elbow and then slid into her skin.

  "Hold still, or you'll hurt yourself," Aine warned. But it was hard for Isabelle to hold still. Isabelle was scared and confused and wanted to know what was happening to her. Her body was shivering. She couldn't hold still even if she wanted to. The Coven of Hallows was kidnaping her, tonight was the blue moon, and Luna was the last of the Lanchesters and---

  "Whoa!" Isabelle felt a dizzying rush spiral through her body. "What was that?" she asked Aine. Then everything inside of her started to feel soft and mushy. Every muscle felt dizzy and squishy.

  "Just a little something to take the edge off," Aine said.

  Isabelle's heightened senses were now smearing together. The truck took off down the road. The bumps felt like jiggling Jell-O, the strawberry kind. No, the chocolate kind. Isabelle could taste the bumps on her tongue. She giggled. The sound of chocolate Jell-O smelled funny in her ears. She laughed, knowing this did not make any sense, but she didn't care. Aine was right. The edge was gone. Now everything was fluffy and soft.

  Even though it felt like the truck had just taken off down the road, it was already coming to a stop. "We're here, Isabelle," Aine said. The door opened beside Isabelle, and time seemed to jump ahead. Isabelle was now walking. No, she was floating. On a cloud of blueberry marshmallows. With legs that felt like cotton candy, but smelled like pizza.

  There were now other voices moving around her. Isabel recognized them as belonging to Devine, Psyche and Dionysus. But whatever they were saying was being gobbled up by the purple polka dots that were now floating around behind the black bandana that still covered her eyes. In the back of Isabelle's mind she was glad she couldn't see. Adding any more confusion to her already confused mind would have been a sensory overload she was certain she wouldn't have been able to handle.

  Isabelle was moving again. No, flying, slowly, but without wings. Wait, she did have wings, she could feel them flapping behind her ears. Nope, that was her hair.

  "Hairy wings!" Isabelle said with a giggle. Her voice echoed back to her. She could hear the sound of dripping water in the distance somewhere. She could feel moist air pressing against her, licking the flesh on her arms, lapping the skin on her ankles.

  The bandana was lifted from Isabelle's face, and like a splattering water balloon, a sudden splash of colors burst into view. She was in a cave. There were candles flickering everywhere, shadows dancing like spooky ghosts on the stalactite ceilings above, a circle of light twitching on the floor of the cave, an altar glowing, filled with shimmering, magical tools and there were witches in deep, black and rich, purple velvet cloaks moving about with a mysterious purpose and grace that almost looked like something out of a fairytale book, the kind that gave children nightmares at bedtime.

  Isabelle was taken to the far corner, away from the circle and into the darker part of the cave by a man whose face was hidden in the dark depths of his hood, but Isabelle did not need to see his face to know who he was.

  "Hi, Dionysus," Isabelle said with a smile that felt like it was waving at him. The man ignored Isabelle as he tied her bound wrists to a thin, wooden log. He squatted to secure her ankles to the log. "Not that I believe you are really Dionysus. I don't believe in animistisism. Yes, I know that's not really a word, but it is my word. Have you ever tried this stuff they gave me?" Isabelle giggled. She was right about the sensory overload. She could smell Dionysus' cologne, and it tasted like the fuzzy, black velvet of his cloak, except, it had a cottony feel on her tongue.

  When Dionysus moved away from Isabelle, he left tracers behind him, like parts of his body were slower than others at keeping up with him. It was very difficult understanding or comprehending what was going on and what was being said, but Isabelle wasn't bothered by this. There was only a little part of her mind, maybe the size of a mustard seed, that clung to reality and fought to grasp a hold on something rational or remotely solid. Her bones, her muscles and even her brain felt slushy and mushy now.

  One thing Isabelle knew for certain was that something bad was about to happen, and that this wasn't impacting her the way that it should have been.

  The witches moved about in the circle of candle lights, chanting, like music, in unison. No one was paying attention to her, except for the black ghosts that were wriggling through the stalactites above her. But Isabelle tried the warrior face anyway, the one Luna said she wore so well. She crunched up her brows, squeezed her eyes into slits. It felt right. It felt ruthless.

  A tear trickled down Isabelle's cheek. "Darn it!" she cried.

  "Isabelle," said a familiar voice. It sounded so close that Isabelle cranked her head one way and then the other, expecting to find someone standing close to her. But no one was there.

  "Isabelle," the voice said again.

  "What!" Isabelle shouted, looking all around and still finding no one.

  "Isabelle, close your eyes," said the voice.

  Isabelle did not hesitate. She closed her eyes. "Ashmodai! Oh, it's so good to see you! I mean, hear you. Where are you? Please say that you've come to spank these naughty witches, because they're bad, Ashmodai. Bad! And I really don't think their mommas spanked them very much when they were little, because if they had, they wouldn't be so mean."

  "Isabelle, talk to me with your mouth closed," Ashmodai said.

  "An, hm d I d at?" Isabelle said, trying to keep her lips closed. "It just isn't happening, Ashmodai! I just can't do it!"

  "Just think, don't speak," Ashmodai instructed.

  "I can't think, Ashmodai! They gave me drugs. Funny drugs. Everything is funny now," Isabelle said in her mind.

  "Yes, but this will be easy. All you have to do is stall Luna. This is important, all right? Stall Luna, Isabelle."

  "But Luna's not even here!" Isabelle spoke out loud. She opened her eyes and looked around. "Is she? I don't se
e her, Ashmodai. Luna isn't here. How in the world am I supposed to stall her if she isn't even here? Luna? Luna! Are you here?"

  "No, Isabelle," Ashmodai grumbled loudly, causing Isabelle to flinch with a squeak. "Luna is not here, but she will be soon. Something bad is going to happen if you do not stall her. You will know exactly what I mean when the time comes."

  "No, I won't! Ashmodai, I've been drugged. I can't even find my fingers or my hands or even my arms! Oh, sweat mercy, I don't have any arms! How in the world am I supposed to remember anything important?" Isabelle said, feeling a little panicked because it wasn't until she said this that she realized she had missing limbs.

  "You are not missing your arms, Isabelle. Your hands are tied behind your back. Now remember to stall Luna," Ashmodai said. Then he disappeared, leaving Isabelle all alone.

  Isabelle tugged at her hands. Yup, there they were, just like Ashmodai said, tied behind her back. She could feel the prickly rope that tightly wrapped her wrists and secured her hands behind her.

  Suddenly, it was all just too much for her. She was going to throw up. Her stomach twisted into knots. The cave began to turn in a slow circle. Then Isabelle's head swivelled over her shoulders. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a deep, trance-like sleep.

  ****

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Luna