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Please forgive me.
Moving the bowl to my lips, iron lubricates the base of my tongue, flowing down my throat like a glass of claret, only, unlike Vaden, there’s flinching on my part.
My nose wrinkles as I pass the bowl down. Stella swallows without hesitation, the corner of her mouth turning up in a merciless smirk.Menace.
Dad steps forward once we’re finished. “The first stage is complete. The second…” He pauses, resting on each of us before moving to the next. “You are to bring us the body of your first kill. Place their remains inside the grail of birth and death, where a bed of Carva will be scattered.” Carva is a sacred herb which is only grown in Perdita, but for the most part it’s a mystery. “Go.”
Shifting around to follow orders, it’s the first time we’re able to take in the magnitude of our audience. It’s no wonder the EKC have the name they do if this is how many people are connected to the ten Founding Families. It’s surprising that we’ve not already taken over the world.
Following the line ahead toward the exit, I ignore the descriptive graphic sacrifices illustrated over the ground. When we near the end of a steep incline to the exit, I hit a wall. Vaden’s wide frame blocks my view, so I bend to the side to find Priest motionless, looking directly ahead.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise when Priest deliberately angles his head to our left.
Painted with the Rebellis skull, each eye is drawn with four pointed ends to epitomize the other side to their family—the Kiznitch side from Midnight Mayhem.
Kyrin and Lilith, the two who make up the throuple with Uncle Eli. With Lilith’s silver hair and Kyrin’s brooding energy, they’re hard to miss. But that’s not why Priest stopped.
It’s the girl standing closest to the aisle beside them. His head cocks to the side, as if studying a foreign animal.
“Priest!” The soles of my feet are aching already. The sooner we get this done the better. “Kind of want to get this shit done ASAP.” He draws his attention from her, continuing to lead the way as if it didn’t happen.
Before passing their row completely, my curiosity is insatiable. “It’s been a while, Nala.” The nickname we all called her growing up before Priest decided he found a better one to torment her with that includes her name and ends with ‘tic’. It had been years since she disappeared, but once you’d met her, it was easy enough to spot her in any room.
Luna doesn’t move but the corner of her skull-covered lip widens in a smile. “A lot to catch up on.”
“See you soon?” The question comes out hastily as my feet patter to catch up to Vaden’s long strides, leaving her answer behind.
“What was that about?” Stella asks from behind after finally catching up with Vaden. “Wait, was that Luna?”
Stella must stop walking because River growls, “Move.”
“Yes!” Luna was a friend to all of us, even to Priest at one point. The term isn’t what he would call her today.
We hit the top of the stairs and tread back through the entrance. Cool wind billows through the rustling trees before I inhale it into my lungs. “I just buried mine. He’s going to be ripe. Gross.”
“Gross. Even for me.” Stella smiles wide, showcasing sharp fangs.
The boys are quiet as we pass the headstones of residents who have passed over the years, stopping when we hit the boundary made up of historic stonework.
All the blood leaves my face.
Shit.
They’re going to see who I shot that night. What if they know the man he resembles? They’d connect the dots the same way I did. They’d surely know, since nothing passes the Kings. Which means they cannot see his face.
“This place is in serious need of an upgrade.” River leaps over the edge first.
Landing with shock waves over the soles of my feet, I dust off my hands. Grass and overgrown weeds blanket the unmarked gravesites, except mine.
He’s not going to be decomposed enough. Dammit.
Cursing my ancestors, I shuffle out of my robe and grab one of the shovels that are leaning against the boundary. Brushing my hair to the top of my head in a high pony, I unclip the robe and let it fall to the ground, exposing my clothes underneath.
“What the fuck are you doing?” War’s tone has more bite than the cool breeze.
“I’m being practical, War. You should try it sometime.” Forcing the spade into the bed of loose soil, I start shoveling fresh dirt.
“Oh, so practical, wearing ten-thousand-dollar shoes to dig up the corpse of your first victim.”
