The men in the room were looking on with fevered eyes. One of the men had his hand inside his pants and was squeezing his prick. Another had delivered a plastic gallon jug to Ulana. It was filled with a dark liquid. He was pouring the contents into two bright gold chalices while the old woman was hovering her hands over it, her eyes closed, and mumbling some form of incantation.
A feeling of dread welled up in Lucy as she realized that she and Zara were about to be fed some kind of potion. Losing her mind to some dark magic was far more terrifying to her than being whipped or killed. She strained at her bonds. Her arms were held straight out to either side in a mockery of crucifixion. Her neck was strained from the noose and she was barely able to keep her balance on her widespread knees
