The Bloody Hand of Fate

An excerpt from The Bloody Hand of Fate

BONNNNNNG. The hammer struck the great gong again, shaking Franco like a rag doll. The blood flowed from his nose and mouth, making Ophelia shudder. He was unconscious now, she was sure, and could no longer feel the agony.

The doctor stepped back, letting the dripping blood fall upon the ancient stone dial. "Now, my lovely, the stage is set." Thick smoke began to waft from the incense braziers, clouding the cavern and making Ophelia lightheaded.

She coughed and shook off the effects, but when she looked at Doctor Troie, her vision was blurred. What was this... magic? some secret herb? Franco's blood flowed freely now, she saw. The spike which impaled him on the gong had pierced him completely; the violence of the gong with every strike driving it deeper until now it protruded from his gut. The red ichor dripped down his naked body on both sides, some of it falling onto the altar and some on the outstretched hand of the huge statue behind it.

The stinking haze of incense overcame the beautiful captive. She envisioned the great statue behind Doctor Troie opening its stone-lidded eyes and stare down upon her nakedness. It seemed to reach out for her, hungrily, angrily. Ophelia swooned and fell limp in her chains.

Before she lost consciousness, she saw it, huge and awful, with Troie's leering smile, looming over her, hands thick with blood, naked and protruding with monstrous intent.