Page 99 of Reaper’s Curse

“Stop him.”

The guards swiftly moved, creating a flesh-and-blood wall between me and the prince.

My feet stopped moving. “What’s going on?”

The general man-handled my arm by way of silent answer and directed me inside, denying me the chance to witness the conclusion of Winter’s standoff with the guards in black.

My insides tingled, didn’t feel right, as my attention remained glued to Winter, the desire to witness what was about to transpire…possibly help him…weighted.

Under the general’s forced guidance, we moved into the warehouse. My steps were less than graceful, my bodily motion torn between being tugged forward while wanting to turn back and help Winter.

The oversized doors closed behind us, cutting off my view…and escape. Daylight shone from above through a roof of networked windows, all dirty, many cracked, several broken, and very few standing the test of time.

“What about the prince?” I asked. “What are your men going to do?”

General Beckett wordlessly led me to the edge of a long platform lining the front of the large space, and…

What the reaping hell?

My question, my previous worry, evaporated from my thoughts. From where we stood, we could view the rest of the wide-open interior, eight or so feet below, free of furniture and equipment, but filled…utterly filled…to capacity with afflicted.

They—the guards or whoever—had gathered together a warehouse full of zombified citizens. Basically shoved them all into a pit. And for what? To keep them separated from the general population, or something more nefarious?

I swept my gaze over the crowd. So many people, all in a less-than-alive state, like Earl and Myla. Although I didn’t see them, and I hoped that meant they weren’t somewhere in the horde.

“What’s going on here?” I turned back to the general.

Four guards flanked him, two on either side.

“The royal healer, by order of the queen, shared all your files with my team,” he said. “We have a theory about the first successful healing.”

“Do you now?” My information had been shared with more palace personnel than I had realized, but if they could steer me in the right direction to help lost souls like Earl, I would listen. “Let’s hear it.”

Beckett scratched his chin and regarded me. “You have been trying to recreate that first healing time and time again, have you not? Each time without success?”

I didn’t respond because if he had my files like he said he did, then he already knew, and the question…questions…were rhetorical.

He barely waited a breath before continuing. “We believe that you have been missing one major element.”

I tilted my head and pushed forward, my eyebrows arching. “Which is?”

“Your blood.”

I gasped. Drew back. Right into the grip of two guards. They grabbed my wrists and held me tight and steady.

“What the hell?”

I’d noted them moving during my little chat with the general, but I assumed they were trying to get a better look at the afflicted in the pit. I should have been more aware. Should have kept my beak and feathers sharp.

Should have never assumed.

Only, the general wasn’t supposed to be the enemy. Not if he worked for the Crown, and I had an understanding with said Crown.

I struggled against their hold. “What are you doing?

“Testing a theory.” A cloth dropped over my vision. “I apologize for the method, but it seemed to be the quickest and most productive. Or so we hope.”

My collector’s eye began to burn, yet the cloth prevented me from finding a target. Had they known about the reaper tool? Was that the reason for the blindfold?