Killing (And Other Games)

(Fourteen)

(Fourteen)

Zane cuts his hand open over the kitchen bench. He doesn't even wince as the razor sharp knife cuts into his strange hands, opening a river of blood right along one of the strange black paint-veins. Thick, black blood pours out into the bowl, filling it quicker than it should. Zane just licks the wound and hangs his hand over the sink. I gasp as the cut heals almost instantly, the glossy black skin of his palm crisscrossing until it's weaved together again. Zane wiggles his eyebrows at me as he cuts up the herbs for the blood.

"Remember when that Banshee girl we were friends with-what was her name?-did this and accidentally poisoned herself?" Danika laughs as she picks at the red plant that I've never seen in any food store. Its leaves look like holly but each leaf is connected by a thick vine that, when cut, produces a bloody sap.

"I remember," Charlie agrees, right on cue. "Her whole throat burnt, right? There were scabs inside and out."

"Thank you for that boost of confidence," Zane mutters, grounding up the herbs with the blood. The whole room smells like iron and rosemary. "Is this enough?"

"More," West instructs, pointing to a line in the Book of Blood. "It needs to be a paste." My stomach rolls a little at that comment but I've got a pretty strong stomach when it comes to this sort of stuff. My parents always used to say I'd make a good doctor because I was fine with blood, my counterargument being that I got a D in Biology.

"Hey, maybe we can save the leftovers to make pancakes or something," Danika chuckles, drawing a smile on the marble bench with a stray drop of blood.

"I don't know why you find this so amusing," Zane says, clearly amused.

"At least someone does," Danika notes. She glances over at Ryker who is trying to ignore the whole ordeal, and then to Charlie who is overseeing it with a sharp glint in his eye. I'm taking mental bets on who will object first.

"Done?" Zane asks, pushing the bowl towards West. West nods and indicates for me to come around to the other side. I sit down on the bench chair and look up at Zane, who is eyeing the blood and blood plant paste wearily. I guess he's having second thoughts. Will he be the one to say no? I'd lose money on that one.

Zane dabs his finger in the mixture and takes my right hand. He squeezes it for a second, giving me a reassuring look, then draws an oval with a circle inside just below my knuckles. The paste feels like paint, drying instantly, but it burns slightly and I wince. It fades into my skin almost immediately, melting away to reveal the image dyed into my skin.

Nobody told me this was a tattoo.

I'm about to demand why I wasn't told of the permanence of this but West starts speaking and I remember it's hardly the time. He says something unintelligible to Zane and for a moment I think I've miss heard. Then I realise they're speaking some other language. It's a brutal language, it sounds angry and bitter-not exactly Italian or French. Zane replies with one worded answers-ja or ziadny each time-whilst West barks out sentences of gibberish at him. I glance over at Danika who watches like she understands but Charlie is frowning and looking left out. So this must be some language only Dark creatures can understand.

"What are they saying?" I whisper to Danika.

"Zane is swearing to protect you," she hisses back, waving me off so she can listen more. I hear the word onderworlden a few times but otherwise this language is completely unrecognisable. Eventually West pats Zane on the shoulder and Zane pours the remaining contents of the bowl into his mouth, unceremoniously. He gags a bit but keeps it together. Honestly, a week ago when Zane told me he had to drink his blood I didn't think it'd be a whole meal full. I thought maybe a drop or two would suffice but I guess the underworld doesn't do things in halves.