Fangs—I have fangs—sink deeply, rupturing his artery and splitting his flesh.
Blood rushes into my mouth and down my chin, covering me in warmth like a soft blanket against my skin.
The hollowness is gone.
I feel right. I feel whole. This sense rises deep within me until…pain.
My shoulder suddenly contorts, convulsing as though it were not mine, and suddenly the world tilts.
Darkness crawls at the edges of my periphery, and the chanting fades into static.
And then…nothing.
Chapter 12
Cage
WE RECEIVED INTEL FROM THE perimeter guards on the eastern side of the city—near Briarmere Forest—that those cattle had been found slaughtered. Kalix was the first to get the news and had already geared up to investigate.
I set out through the halls, searching for Millicent. She had taken to eating her dinners outside, and I knew exactly where to find her.
Stepping through an open archway, I emerge into the crisp night air, and the garden unfolds before me in moonlit silence. Sure enough, my guess is correct. Obsidian-black curls spill over the back of the stone bench. The unruly depth of their darkness is unmistakable.
“Up, little witch. Dinner is over…we need to go.” My voice is firm, loud enough to carry over the bench as I approach.
She does not move. She doesn’t snap at me.
Odd.
We have been avoiding each other, and I welcomed the reprieve while it lasted. But there was work to be done, and she had a purpose here—whether she liked it or not—whether I liked it or not. We cannot afford to dance around each other indefinitely.
“Le strange,” I call out louder, my voice cutting through the stillness as I move around the bench.
No response.
My irritation sharpens. “Quit playing games,” I snap, stepping in front of her.
Then I see it.
Her hands clutch her knees so tightly that her knuckles have turned bone white. Her eyes—normally burning with defiance—are empty voids locked on the darkness ahead.
Expecting to see something, I follow her gaze into the garden.
Nothing.
“Well? What the hell is it, witch?” My impatience flares. Crouching to her height, I snap my fingers in front of her face.
She jerks back, her eyes suddenly sharpening into focus, back to the ice blue I’m familiar with from years ago. A sharp inhale rattles her chest as she gasps for air, like someone resurfacing after being held underwater too long.
Panic.
A raw vulnerability flickers in her eyes, something I didn't think possible before. A crack in the iron fortress that she wears like armor. It’s fleeting, as in the next breath; rage floods in, swallowing the fear as her defenses snap back into place.
Before I can react, she shoves me hard.
I stumble back, landing unceremoniously on my ass.
She points a finger at me and yells, “What the hell!”
