Howling Sacrifices Read Online Free

held no physical dagger like the others, one hand was slowly working at his metaphorical one.
    Suddenly the chanting came to a stop. Even the men standing around Lucy paused. She moaned and shook her head in horrific expectation of what was to come.
    “Ancient Famora.” Their naked leader looked directly into the fire as if it was a doorway to hell and he was waiting for some acknowledgement from the netherworld. “As is holy and proper, the Order honors you on this most powerful of moons with our righteous sacrifice. We ask you to accept it and grant us your rewards for another year.”
    Suddenly the fire surged higher, its flames flashing a strange, almost fluorescent green. The dire words were followed by an impassioned resumption of the Gaelic refrain by the other priests as the spokesperson for the group dropped to his knees over the girl on the altar, becoming mostly hidden from Lucy’s view. Not that she needed—or wanted—to see what was happening. From the poor thing’s tortured screams it was all too obvious.
    A sob broke from her lips as Lucy felt the girl’s terror. It seemed to last forever, but her screams and pleading cries finally devolved into choked sobs and weak moans that shattered Lucy’s heart to pieces.
    She didn’t know what sick god or devil these freaks thought they were sacrificing to and she was way past caring. Lucy yanked on her bonds, scraping her skin raw against the rope until she felt blood coating her wrists. She glared up at Samuel, who sneered down at her as he chanted.
    “Stop this! You have to stop this now,” she demanded. “Please. How can you—”
    Suddenly the tone of the chanting changed, becoming faster. More frenzied.
    Oh Jesus, no. Somehow, Lucy knew without looking what was going to happen next. She couldn’t bear to see it and turned her head away, but Samuel laughed and closed a fist in her hair, viciously forcing her to look. With a cold shiver she witnessed all three daggers descending in exaggerated arcs over the other girl’s supine form.
    “No, please don’t!” The tears she’d been trying so hard to keep back poured down her face in wet tracks.
    Lucy watched in horror as the three long blades tore into the girl’s body. Her pelvis, her torso and through her neck. Her back bowed off the stone slab and she screamed again and again, her voice hoarse and ragged, splitting the night just like those knives cut through her. Like she was nothing.
    The sharp steel daggers lifted and fell again and again until the altar was covered in blood. The firelight turned it black, like an oil slick coating everything, running down the sides. It would soak into the ground, stain the earth. Contaminate it for all time.
    The girl’s screams had died off, but it was only when the one Lucy already thought of as a demon raised his arm over her that Lucy realized the poor girl was actually still alive. Through all of that, the priests must have strategically planned their jabs so that their sacrifice wouldn’t die too quickly or too easily.
    And it seemed that none of their blades had pierced her heart…because that final violation was left to the leader. He opened his hand for one of the daggers and when it was placed in his palm, closed his fingers around the hilt and plunged it straight down with a loud cry that sounded as if he reached orgasm doing it.
    Lucy clenched her eyes tightly closed, but it didn’t help. She has already the blood spraying up, the girl’s naked form covered in a blanket of her own blood. As much sorrow as she felt for her, Lucy also felt a bone-chilling fear stabbing her in the heart, because from the expectant looks she’d seen on the faces of her own triad of Satan worshippers, she was next in line for the personal treatment.
    She swallowed, her sorrow turning to rage. And she vowed that if she died here tonight, she was going to haunt these sick bastards until she’d driven each and every one of them insane and sent them tumbling,