Page 128
Killian gathers the small brass bells that hung loosely on a leather cord, before draping it around everyone’s neck.
“What’s the bell for?” I ask as he rests one around my neck. It’s becoming too ritual-like for my comfort.
“Electronics don’t work where demons stride. The bells are to alert the others of location in the event of trouble. Use your bell sparingly.”
My gaze flickers to Christian who is already staring at me. He winks. I open my mouth to say something, but Kieran has already noticed the interaction.
I avert my attention to the rest of the group; their features were eager for whatever this is.
Why a hunt when Kieran can simply catch the creatures and lock them away? Kieran walks over and holds out a familiar long blade to me. It’s the one from the night I was attacked by the creature—his blade.
“Tonight, our lessons begin.” He closes his hand over mine, resting it reverently.
“Finally.” I trace my fingers over the hilt then survey the glinting silver of the sharp edge. “But what about the firearm?”
“We don’t have enough of those to last between us. Besides, it’s more fun this way,” he replies with a wink.
The forest looms ahead, the trees tall and dark, their branches arching like the ribs of a giant beast. Standing here, staring up at its capaciousness, hiding peril in the muscles of its body makes my finger fidget with the handle of my blade. Sweat beads at the nape of my neck. I ready myself for the inevitable. And everyone seems to shift, ready for this festivity.
Truly, we’re going hunting for innocents. Kieran though, he isn’t going hunting like the rest of them. I give him a sidelong glance, surveying the way he stands straight, hands hidden within his pockets. His eyes are steady and faintly inscrutable.
“Tonight, we hold nothing back. We’ve been waiting years to find the very thing I’ve shown you all. But we need as much harvested Immorcantem as we can procure. And tonight, we are welcoming Marisa into the fold.”
The blood in the chambers, Immorcantem is its name.
I keep my gaze locked on Christian as he twirls a knife in his hands.
Click. Clack. Click.
He approaches Kieran with an unbothered ease. The two face one another, shoulders wide, lean legs radiating tension.
“You better not be lying, Lazarus.” Christian’s tone is a warning.
Observing the pair shows enemies; beneath their angry surfaces however, lays something far more delicate. Why had these two held on to one another despite all that I’ve heard?
In the cool, silver lighting both appear to be of the same cut. If someone else were to quickly glance between the pair you could mistake them for brothers or the same person.
A creature shrieks from within the canopy, high and jagged, rattling the branches. The wind shifts and carries the thick rot-smell of decaying flesh. The group tapers off, each running toward the sounds with their knives in hand. Cassandra lingers in the periphery, chugging a bottle of champagne like her life depended on it.
Christian moves behind me, gripping my waist. “Stay with me, if anything or anyone touches you tonight, they die.”
A figure lunges from between the trees. Long hair clings to her body like kelp dragged from deep water. Her movements jitter violently, limbs like broken marionette joints, skin dripping with black ichor. Her eyes lock onto me. She charges.
“Wow! They’re brave.” Cassandra giggles, dodging the approaching creature. The sound of her bell trails after her as she runs into the forest, leaving the creature barreling towards us.
I raise the blade Kieran gave me, but Christian yanks me against him, spinning us away from her reach. He slashes his silver blade across her throat. Black liquid spills onto the snow, sizzling like acid. The creature gargles then collapses. We tumble backward into the sharp bushes with a collective exhale.
“I like a man who keeps his promises.” Adrenaline thrums through my body as he lifts me to my feet.
“Quick, help me lift her body and rest it against the bannister.” Christian moves to take ahold of her legs and I slip my hands into hers.
My breath trembles in short bursts as we pull her body upright. “Why are we doing this?” The creature lays limp, skin still intact. Her eyes remain open. She was once someone who mattered—another’s child, sibling, or partner. I reach over and close her vacant eyes. Her cold skin sends a sting across my fingertips.
My gaze darts around the rear of the house. There will be more.
“We need her blood.” Christian makes quick work of pulling out a dated set of needles and murky tubes from a pouch, crouching down to insert them into her neck. “Grab that basin.” He points to a neatly stacked set of scratched silver basins. They look more like something that would belong on a sacred altar than being remanded to the elements.
I hurry toward the bowls and tuck them against my chest. One clatters from my arms and bounces noisily against the stoned patio. “Fucking hell.” I crouch to the ground and grab ahold it before it makes more noise. My gaze darts to the tree line ahead noticing it’s already too late. One of the creatures is stealthily making its way across the clearing toward us.
