Page 67 of Vasmora

Seconds ticked.

The charnelyths slapped the ground, hissing at me, but never dared to move closer.

At last, the girl’s body stilled and she sighed one long exhale.

“You are a merciful goddess,” the ghost behind me said.

“I am no goddess.” I gently laid her hand onto the caps of the fungi beside her. How peaceful she looked right then. As if she were only sleeping. “I didn’t even know her name.”

“All names are forgotten in this place.”

“What was your name in life?” I asked.

“Vaelora,” the ghost answered in a somber tone. “Vaelora Vexmoor.”

“I will not let your name be forgotten, Vaelora.”

When I twisted toward her, she was gone.

A new scream echoed from the cave, the voice familiar.

Melantha.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

MAEVYTH

“Help me! Please!” Melantha cried out.

The large males darted for separate tunnels toward her screams. There was no helping her—not with two of them. The best thing I could do right then was search for a way out, and in scanning the cave’s perimeter, my gaze caught on a smaller tunnel at the opposite side.

Just behind the female.

I couldn’t imagine where it might lead, but I doubted it could be any worse than where I was. Or what fate awaited me, if Loyce managed to get her hands on me again.

Unfortunately, the nest was well-placed. I’d have to try to lure the female away from it somehow, but I hadn’t yet gotten a sense of her temperament. Whether she was more, or less, aggressive than the males I’d already fought.

A low growling dragged my attention back to the dead servant beside me. Her belly rippled and pressed outward, bulging and stretching the skin into the crude shape of an opened mouth. The protrusion shifted from one side to the other, like something inside of her was frantically trying to escape. The sound seemed to alert the female charnelyth, who lifted her head, eyes narrowing with interest on the woman.

An opportunity to sneak past for that tunnel.

Teeth grinding hard enough that pain throbbed in my skull, I held my knife-like fingernails over the girl’s pale belly. I’d be damned if I’d let another one of those wretched things enter the world.

The female charnelyth hissed and uncoiled from her nest.

“Your bastard child is calling for you.” I stabbed my nails into the woman’s belly, and the creature within writhed frantically as the metal sank into its body. Swiping my claws, I ignored the screaming pain of my broken finger and tore a gash that split the woman’s flesh open. The small beast spilled out onto the ground beside her, writhing and squirming as it bled out. Before its mother could arrive, I scooped up the newborn serpent and hurled it toward one of the caves.

The female let out a roar, and as she chased after it, I darted in the other direction, toward the tunnel behind her nest.

A feminine scream reverberated through the grotto, and I ground to a halt, turning to see one of the males carrying Melantha through the cavern, her body stiff and motionless as she dangled from its mouth.

The serpent deposited her on a separate bed of fungi, not far from where the first woman lay.

At the mouth of the cavern, the female craned her neck toward Melantha, the baby I’d discarded dangling in bloody strips from her maw.

I clamped my eyes and turned my attention back toward the tunnel.

Escape. Go! Now!