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Bleeding made sense. A hailstorm of debris had hit me when Grandpa’s brother’s family had invaded the great dining hall by blowing out one of the sidewalls I’d been sitting near.
My palm trembled as I prodded my hair, checking for more wounds, and rubble dust fell from the ratted strands, landing on the frayed and grimy hem of my dress. As if they were lethal, I kicked the chunks of wall away with a bare, scraped toe before I tucked my leg back under my skirt and returned myself to the fetal position, hugging my knees and rocking again.
Distant bellows and shrieks began to fade further away. I hummed to myself—just inside my mind though, so no one else could hear it—to block out the rest of the world.
But that didn’t help. Jolting when a shout sounded from nearby, I sucked in an involuntary gasp. Boots pounded closer. I tensed, fearing I’d been discovered. But the clanging of metal and swords slamming together told me the runner had been fleeing from someone else, and they weren’t coming for me.
I had no idea who was fighting this time. Honestly, it no longer mattered. As soon as my grandfather’s brother Orick and his family had invaded, everyone had turned on everyone else. It was impossible to know who to trust anymore. To know who was good.
One minute, Grandpa Obediah had been raising his goblet with a toast and smiling to celebrate Grandma’s birthday, then a loud boom made my ears ring. Dust clogged my vision, and the next thing I knew, Grandpa’s head had landed on the floor, no longer connected to his body.
Utter madness followed. Brother turned against sister, husband against wife, mother against son.
I’d been so stunned watching my cousins Queen and Quote stabbing each other to death, I hadn’t even noticed my own brother Quatro charging toward me with a raised dagger until Mama screamed a warning. I’d turned just in time to see her thrust a sword into the center of his back to stop him.
Frozen, I gaped as the blade emerged through the front of his chest and blood bloomed across the cloth of his tunic. My mother had murdered one of my brothers. To save me.
I would’ve remained stupefied even longer, trying to process what was happening, but Mama had roared, “Run, Quilla, run!” just as Daddy rushed at her from behind, spear raised, only for Uncle Palmer to slay him with a battle-ax before he could reach her.
A whimper filled my throat. My entire family had gone insane. It could only mean one thing.
Another reaping had begun.
Grandpa had taught us all about the reapings. He’d survived one already, back when he was twenty-nine, he claimed, before he’d met Grandma or the rest of us were born. Before even Daddy was born.
With the curse that had plagued our family for centuries, the bloodlust for power and magic would sometimes seize a member of House Graykey until they could no longer control the insatiable thirst for more, and they attacked the rest of the family, intent to consume their abilities and take them for themselves.
From the moment that first strike in a reaping came, a struggle for dominance and control took hold of the rest of us until only the strongest survived. Just a rare few Graykey members were able to avoid that unquenchable hunger for more power whenever a reaping began. Grandpa Obediah claimed to be immune. He was still a carrier, though, so he had passed the curse down through the generations to the rest of us.
I slowly twisted my wrist until I exposed the smooth, hairless inside of my forearm where a light blue vein ran through the center of the tattoo I bore. I’d been born with the pentagram with the letter G in the center, a mark that signified I came from the Graykey line, and therefore I carried the Graykey curse.
Meaning I should be filled with bloodlust right now, too, murdering the rest of my family like everyone else.
But I didn’t feel like killing anyone. Especially anyone in my own family, who had raised me and protected me and nurtured me my entire life. The idea actually turned my stomach sour.
Did this mean I was immune to the bloodlust too? Just like Grandpa Obediah had been in the last reaping?
I hoped so. I didn’t want to become feral.
“Why won’t you just die already?” a man roared over the sound of clanging metal.
I knew his voice. Daddy’s middle brother, Uncle Palmer, had always kind of scared me.
After seeing the way he’d cut down my father only minutes ago, that fear wasn’t going to fade anytime soon either.
“You first,” a woman answered, straining and panting from the effort she must be putting into fighting him off.
I sucked in a breath, also recognizing her voice. Uncle Palmer’s wife, Taiki, was my favorite aunt. She always took the time to pause whatever she was doing to teach me something new and interesting. And she smiled and laughed when she did it, as if she truly enjoyed my company. Usually, I just annoyed everyone with my relentless questions and curiosity. But Aunt Taiki called me refreshing.
I bolted upright when she cried out after a particularly loud thump.
If Aunt Taiki died, who would be left?
Only the frightening murderers, that’s who. Certainly no one who’d walk down to the stream with me and try to spot minnows and crawlers in the water. Certainly no one who’d snuggle close to me in front of a warm fire when it was storming outside and tell me funny stories to keep me from being scared. Certainly no one who enjoyed my questions and called me refreshing or could make an entire room seem as if th
e sun had just come out from behind a cloud whenever they smiled.
Aunt Taiki couldn’t die, too. She just couldn’t.
