Page 58 of Psycho Gods

I was at the back, surrounded by shadows.

The twins guarded my front, and the kings guarded my back. Intensity radiated off them as they slunk silently through the snowy night.

Dread slithered down my spine.

The Necklace of Death pulsed, warm, against my sternum like it was trying to reassure me.

It didn’t work.

I breathed shakily.

As soon as we’d RJE’d and climbed over the high wall of the empty courtyard, the men’s energy had changed. Even John was different.

They’d shed their masks of civility. They were no longer the men I spent my days arguing and laughing with.

They were draconian, more killers than men.

And I was one of them.

We were like the soulmancers of lore, a people so deadly and terrifying they were more myth than reality.

The monsters of all monsters.

Air left my lips in frosty puffs. Thighs trembling, sweat streaking down my forehead, I squatted low and moved swiftly with daggers clenched between frozen fingers.

My eyes watered from the frozen air.

Snow drifted down lazily, and I blinked to clear the wetness off my eyelashes.

The pine trees in the courtyard were wrapped in fairy lights, and the distracting shards of light streaked across my peripheral vision. Bricks were warm beneath my heavy combat boots.

Tendrils of steam evaporated into the starry night.

Jax’s voice was loud and crisp through my earpiece as he whispered, “There are four entrance points. Everyone stays as a group like we planned. Sadie in the front, and no splitting up. Follow me.”

We entered the compound and walked directly into a long, windowless brick corridor.

I shivered as the temperature plummeted and a heavy stone floor blocked the steam and heat from the ground. The only light was flickering torches.

It was musty.

Damp.

Insidious.

My lungs rattled loudly in the quiet, and I held my breath.

One. Three. Six. Nine. Eleven. Thirteen. Fifteen. Seventeen. I counted in odd numbers as we moved silently, a unit of highly trained murderers.

There were no doors, and we appeared to be inside an endless stretch of silent corridor. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought we were in an abandoned building.

Goose bumps broke out across the back of my neck. How could anyone live in this austere, rank atmosphere?

From the quiet, the infected must have a lunar sleep cycle.

At the front of the group, Jax stopped suddenly and held up his hand. Surrounded by darkness, I could barely make out him signaling that the corridor branched off up ahead.

We followed him as he made a sharp right.

---