My voice was hoarse and grating, my screams disintegrating into ragged sobs. Artoz wiped his hands on a towel as he moved away from me. My blood seemed dark against the white of his uniform. Thus far he seemed far more interested in hurting me than actually asking me questions.
He picked up the glass flask that held about a pint of my blood and held it up to the light. “Tell me, hiexě, is it true what our mutual friend has said? Is this blood a miracle cure?”
hiexěThe table was tilted at a forty-five-degree angle, with my head on the bottom, which did nothing to help the booming headache I’d been left with after Katyk’s recent attempt at breaking my mind open. My ragged back was pressed against it, laying down a bass beat of pain to underscore the day’s melody being played on my hands. T
