The Monster strains and howls, railing against its confinement as it had a hundred times before. The knife in its stomach burns with an unnatural chill, and The Monster struggles to get away from the awful, killing cold.
As a hundred times before, it fails. Even the strength of the desperate damned cannot free wrists and ankles nailed to an ebony table with iron spikes nearly the size of tent stakes, and it howls a piteous, feminine cry of anguish as the sable-skinned woman above her slowly buries the athamé to the hilt in her trim, silky flesh. She felt her stolen life leaking away, taken to fuel the Dark Lady's power, and tears carve through the filth and blood on her face as she struggles. Bones grind, muscles tear, and the back of her head beats a rapid tattoo on the old, scarred wood as she thrashes.
But she cannot break free.
Two days she has spent like this, confined and tortured for some dark and terrible purpose. The Dark Lady laughs often, and loudest when The Monster's screams fade away to the broken sobs of a terrified girl calling out for her friend. In those moments, when the pain recedes enough for fear to take its share and The Monster retreats, Calista wishes for Robyn. Lying in pools of her own dried blood, hearing the screams echoing throughout the House of Pain and fearing that maybe this time would be the last time, maybe this time Melissa would pass even her incredible limits, Calista calls out into the dark for her friend and lover, then curses her weakness and prays Robyn will not come.
Then the pain starts again, and the virus keeps her alive despite the endless torment and as the cycle begins anew Calista's mind frays and warps and snaps, leaving the awful instinct-driven hunter of men in its wake. She struggles with the terrible strength of a vampire, but Melissa knows her craft well, and the bindings mystical and physical are too much for the badly-depleted girl to overcome. If she had fed, perhaps then things would be different. Then she could quicken her muscles and empower her magic and shatter her bindings with borrowed power.
But Calista is starving. Melissa has stolen her blood with her ritual blade, taking its power for use in whatever grand working she was attempting just out of Calista's sight, and without it Calista's magic and muscles were too, too weak. Three times Melissa has brought in a victim for her to feed upon, giving her enough blood and power to keep the virus strong, to keep her body intact, but never enough to muster the power to break free.
The bodies of her three victims, two nameless teenagers and Holly, Valerian house's youngest adept, lay in the corner where Melissa had casually tossed them. They lay naked and broken, staring with horrified dead eyes at the vampiress who had killed them.
The knife comes out again, and Melissa whispers, "Soon, pet, soon it will all be over and you can go back to playing at being more than just a pet." She stroked Calista's hair, eliciting a low whine and a full-body shudder as her ensorcelled touch sends sparks of pleasure to dance amongst the threads of agony permeating the bound girl's mind, further weakening her resolve and warping her thoughts. "You're being very good, pet-" Calista howls again, cutting Melissa off as she finds some deeper reserve to try her bindings once more. Melissa drives the knife in again, higher this time, cutting off Calista's shriek in a welter of blood and snarls, "Be silent! If not for you then a dozen more children would be dead to realize my work! Is that what you want?"
Calista quiets, trembling violently and shakes her head. Blood runs from the corner of her mouth and Melissa stares down at her with hard, pale eyes until she chokes out, "No, mistress."
Melissa nods, satisfied. "Good. Now say you're sorry."
"I'm...sorry...I'll be...good..." the words are heavy and wet-sounding, the blood in her throat and lungs choking her voice and the pain and pleasure and fatigue and horror dulling her mind. She continues shaking, but her struggles have ceased, and she lies slack on the table, crying softly as the athamé comes down again.
"Robyn...help..."