Because, from what I could see gathered around in the basement, it seemed like most—if not all—of the Sacrifices before me had been tossed in this basement to rot for some untold amount of time.
Until, one day, they were gone from here.
And I couldn't help but wonder how and why.
Where did they go?
What had been done to them?
Surely, the demons wouldn't take a Sacrifice each generation only to throw them in a basement to die of old age.
That didn't seem in-line with what demons were known for.
Evil.
Then again, what was more evil than taking a witch away from her coven, from her community, and her family, and sticking her down in a basement to feel her life slipping away day after day, week after week, year after year?
Maybe they fed off the misery.
Why, then, did Ly bring me out of the basement when my misery was blanketing the world in rain? Shouldn't they have been reveling in that grief?
None of it made any sense.
As much as I could tell, none of the witches had left behind accounts of their lives. There were no instruments to write with down here, and if they weren't given the freedom to roam, there would have been no way to find something to write with.
The murals on the walls had been made with berries of some sort, precious bits of food they could have eaten to sustain their bodies in the cold, damp space. But they used them to create some beauty in their dark world, to honor the world they came from.
My heart ached for them as I kneeled down in front of the altar, running my hand over the items carefully gathered there.
"Fucking what now?" Ly's voice growled as he charged down the stairs, his heavy boots clomping down the steps.
"What?" I asked, startled. My hand went to my hammering heart as I took a steadying breath.
"Ace is going to lose his shit if the rain keeps going."
"Oh," I said glancing over toward the window, seeing the fat raindrops already falling.
"We have company tonight. We can't have it fucking pouring again. It would ruin the mood."
"I... I can't just turn it off," I told him. I never could. When my cat passed away when I was a girl, I wept for a week straight, causing floods that washed out part of our winter food storage. Nothing anyone did could stop it. "I have never had great control over my powers," I admitted.
"Or your emotions. Fucking witches," Ly growled, raking a hand through his hair. "Do you need a bath?" he asked.
"Baths aren't the magical cure to bad moods, you know," I informed him. "Back in my coven, they were simply a part of daily life."
"It worked last time."
"That was different. I felt different. I was sad for different reasons."
To that, I got a sigh before he reached out, grabbing my arm, pulling me up the stairs.
"Lycus!" Ace roared from his usual position in his library.
"I'm working on it," Ly called back.
"Work faster. We were supposed to open the pool and hot tub for the party."
"What kind of party?" I asked as Ly pulled me into the kitchen.
"A party party."
"For what occasion?"
"No occasion."
"You are not celebrating anything?"
"No. We are having people over to eat and drink and dance and flirt and fight and fuck. You know... party."
"Can I come?"
"To the party?" he asked, eyes squinting.
"Yes, to the party. Having something to look forward to may help my bad mood."
I was being manipulative. I remember Marianne throwing that word at me a lot as a teenager when I managed to convince the girls my age to do chores I didn't like for me or join in on my little acts of rebellion.
I had always been good at convincing people to do things I wanted, even when I knew it was not the kind thing to do.
It was yet another reason I was here with the demons.
But it was also a way for me to make a bad situation a bit more tolerable.
Making demands had gotten me out of the basement for some part of the day. It got me the garden. It allowed me to prepare my own foods.
I had no idea what may lie ahead for me, but at least until then, I could enjoy a halfway tolerable existence.
"Ace won't like it."
"Does Ace have to know?" I asked.
"It's not like you blend in with normal human beings."
"I won't speak to anyone."
"That would be a welcome change," he grumbled. "This," he went on, waving toward my body, clad in my white gown.
"If I had something else to wear, I would."
"I will think about it. Is that good enough?" he asked, looking out the window. "Fuck. Guess not," he hissed, shaking his head. "Fine. Fucking fine. You can come. I will have to go and find you something to wear. You will need to keep your head down, stay away from everyone. Just watch."