share a little bit about my pathetic excuse for a childhood.”
Lucas once more taps his fingers against the table. It’s something I never noticed before, but is now blatantly obvious—it’s his tell, the only indication that he’s worried or anxious or fearful or anything besides an emotionless robot. Someone must’ve updated his programming while I was away.
“To be completely honest, I’m surprised you’re telling me any of this,” he continues slowly. Only his eyes twitch to survey my expression, but I take a page out of his playbook and keep my features neutral. I swear I see his lips begin to form into the beginnings of a smile, but it must be a trick of the light. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that he doesn’t know how to use his facial muscles. Except for that one smile… “There’s a lot I can do with this information.”
I laugh bitterly. “What are you going to do? Tell someone? No one will believe you.”
This time, I’m definitely not mistaken. There’s a very clear upwards tilt to his lips. “Maybe I plan to hunt you down for myself.”
His words make my body grow cold, as if I was plunged headfirst in the Arctic Ocean. My hands shake, dropping the French fry my fingers were brutalizing. Immediately, that minuscule smile on his face fades, replaced by an intensity that threatens to steal my breath and stop my heart like a lethal injection.
“Don’t joke.” I search his gaze somewhat desperately, only relaxing marginally when a myriad of emotions flit across his face faster than the wings on a hummingbird. Confusion. Shock. And then anger.
“There are people who hunt witches, aren’t there?” he questions.
I nod once. “There are normal witch hunters—humans who see us as monsters. They seem to think that the monsters you see in movies…I mean, read in literature are real. But they aren’t. Not really. They’re all variations of witches. Some witches are extremely powerful and can take the form of animals, hence the superstition of werewolves and shapeshifters. Some witches are even gifted familiars, though I don’t know anyone who’s had one in centuries. And finally, there are Bloods.”
“Bloods?”
I swallow. “They’re witches who have been tainted by blood magic. Dark magic. It usually involves the sacrifice of humans…and in most recent cases, witches. It gives the witches performing the ritual immortality, but in return…”
“They have to live off blood,” Lucas finishes. “Like vampires.”
I tremble slightly as terror unfurls in my stomach. “No one will believe you if you tell them the truth, but—”
“The people who might hurt you will believe me,” Lucas finishes with a contemplative expression.
“Lucas, I’m being serious.”
“As am I.” His face is graver than I ever remember it being. Even more so than when I threw fruit punch on his shirt in seventh grade. “No harm will come to you, Peony Simone.” This time, there’s no mistaking the malevolent grin that contorts his features. It’s all sharp teeth and deadly intent—the smile of an apex predator. “I’ll kill anyone who even tries.”
Chapter 31
Cassian stops me before first hour. I can see him storming down the hall, his intent clear in every hard, taut muscle of his body. Pure, unrestrained anger emanates back at me from his dark gaze as he slams his hand against the locker over my head.
“We need to talk,” he murmurs harshly. Mariabella, standing beside me, flashes me a worried look, but I smile to reassure her, as if I’m not going to be murdered today and have my body hidden in the bushes outside of school.
Probably not.
“I’ll be right back,” I assure my friend softly before following Cassian down the numerous hallways until we reach an empty classroom. The light is off when we enter, and that somehow makes everything seem even more eerie. At this early hour, the sun still has yet to rise, painting everything in shades of black and dark gray. A skeleton sits in the corner of the room with eggshell-colored bones and a creepy grin that causes goosebumps to skitter up my spine and both my arms.
Cassian doesn’t bother to turn on the light as he begins to pace in front of the teacher’s desk.
A sort of quietness fills the room that has every hair on my body standing on end. It’s that inevitable moment during a hunt, where the predator is stalking its prey through the forest’s underbrush. A knife in a killer’s hand, seconds before it plunges downwards and pierces your heart. It embodies nightmares and monsters and the things