Page 71 of Savage Torment

Each figure is draped in a forest-green gown, similar to the ones I saw The Renegades wear. They stop in the middle of the floor and Whitmore steps back to give them space as they form a circle among them.

The room is swept with silence as the figures mutter words under their breath. I glance around the space, watching for what’s going to happen, and I’m almost certain nothing will as time stretches out until a golden symbol suddenly appears, shining and floating in the open air above the impending doom below.

It burns brighter and brighter until it suddenly extinguishes, and with a snap that rings around the room, twelve students suddenly stand. My heart hammers in my chest as they each make their way to the center of the room, eyes focused, determination in their stride.

“Are they?—”

“Their blood kin is among them,” Bryony whispers, answering the question I didn’t get a chance to finish.

Twelve students. Six blood kin ties.

A tremor runs down my spine and I have to sit on my hands to hide the shake of my fingertips.

“Wonderful,” Professor Whitmore says with a clap. “We have twelve fantastic students who are ready to advance to the next step of their journey. For those who have never witnessed such magic before, I will quickly explain. The first stipulation of the curse has been lifted, marking the twelve students with a symbol that only one other may bear at the same time: their blood kin. This symbol will be unique to the two of them, acknowledging not only their bond, but also the countdown that has now begun. If you become the lone survivor, the symbol will vanish with the curse. After fifty-two weeks, the emblem must exist on only one body, or both will die. Any questions?” he asks, peering around the room as he waits five seconds before proceeding. “Now, let’sallow our students to find out who among them is their blood kin,” he declares, clapping once as the witches begin to chant, only louder this time.

I’m not the only one enraptured. We all are. Not a single person is lost in their own world or gossiping with friends. Everyone is silent, waiting for the “chaos” to come, as Minnie put it.

As the chanting gets louder, the students all suddenly sink to their knees, a hiss of pain slipping from their lips, but it’s not from the floor biting against their skin. They each desperately pull up the sleeve on their left arm, revealing a glowing mark.

I can’t see the distinctive differences between them, but it seems they can.

One by one, they stand, eyes flicking between their emblem and those that mar the skin of the others. My heart lurches in my chest as I watch them each still when they find the one that matches theirs.

Their chests heave as they stumble to stand toe to toe with their blood kin. Some gape in horror, some bolt for the door immediately, while others charge.

Everything happens so fast that I don’t know where to look.

Someone screams as another student chases them, fangs elongated and red-rimmed eyes consuming their face as they try to claim their victim.

My hand flies to my mouth, a gasp burning my throat as I stare in disbelief.

The student who took off for the door first doesn’t make it far before a student who wasn’t one of the selected twelve shoulder checks them, knocking them to the ground.

What the hell?

“Why did they do that?” I blurt, peering at Bryony with wide eyes, and she at least has the decency to grimace as she explains.

“They probably know their blood kin and want to help them,” she offers, and my jaw falls slack.

I never considered that.

What will I do when it’smyfriends standing up there? Will I help them kill someone else?

There’s no time to consider an answer when my next breath is stolen as someone comes barreling into me. My back hits the floor with a thud, the girl on top of me in no hurry to move as I flail, arms and legs swinging in every direction as I try to free myself.

“Fuck yeah!” someone cheers above me, arms in the air as they pay me no mind. Despite the carnage, I capture the moment the symbol on their arm disappears without a trace.

Which would mean…

“No. No. No. No. No,” I chant, finally managing to heave the body off me, and she slumps to the floor beside me. “Oh my God,” I grimace, turning away as my eyelids fall closed and my heart thunders wildly in my chest. But it’s too late, her face, her vacant eyes, they’ll forever be imprinted in my mind.

Spinning on the spot, I search for Bryony, desperate to feel grounded by her familiarity, but no matter which way I turn, I can’t see her. I can’t find Foster either.

People move in every direction, pushing and shoving. Some to get in on the action, others attempting to run from it. I think I’d rather be with the latter, but that still entails making my way to the exit, and from here, it feels like a million miles away.

Another knock to my side, and I stumble again, only this time I manage to catch myself on the only chair still remaining upright. Taking a backward step, I glance around the room, seeing nothing but bodies, and I feel like I can’t breathe as bedlam unravels.

Fists are flying, battle cries echoing around the room, and I’m confident it’s far more than those with symbols that arefighting now. Any attempt at trying to take a calming breath is short-lived as I begin to make some kind of progress toward the exit.

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