Page 114 of Savage Sacrifice
“Just a pinprick,” he repeats, digging a hand into his pocket to reveal a flash of gold. “Hold on to this; it will always protect you, okay?”
He holds out a gold coin, and I watch in awe as it shimmers under the sun. Taking it from his grasp, I bring it closer, noting the pattern on one side of it. It’s etched so delicately that it’s not easy to make out at first, but it almost looks as though it’s the face of a joker. A silly hat with bells on the ends and a long face, just like the ones we’ve read about in books, from times when blood curses didn’t hold us all captive.
Turning it over in my hand, initials adorn the other side and nothing else.
T.K.O.G.
“Now, are we ready to get this part over with so we can move on to the birthday party for the princess herself?”
My eyes ping open as I dig my hand into my pocket, feeling the familiar weight of my coin. It hasn’t been in my pocket for so long, I almost forgot what it feels like to draw strength from it, but Blaze insisted we all carry them now, just in case, and I’ve never been more grateful.
The outline that presses into my skin is different, but it fuels my strength more because I know it’s for me.
It’s no longer a coin from my father to me, but a coin that represents my destiny.
It’s always been my coin, but now, it’s truly mine.
“Let them know where we’re going,” I state, my voice clearer than ever as I take off with purposeful strides toward the witches’ basement.
As I approach the door, Lincoln tries to side-step me to get it, but I lift my hand, halting him in place. I don’t speak, I just look at him, watching as he tries to dissect the look in my eyes before he nods, taking a step back.
Leading the way, I swing the door open, eyeing the dark steps leading down, but I don’t pause for more than a second. Instead, I channel the empowerment flooding through me and begin my descent. As I reach the bottom, the door straight ahead is open, dimly lit with flames burning around the ceiling.
It’s just as I remember it.
Only this time, Bryony isn’t hidden among her coven, and I’m not seated with a bag over my head. Instead, she’s standing between Professor Whitmore and Professor Juniper.
Now they’re all together, it makes sense.
I don’t shy away from their presence, moving to the center of the room with Tatum and Lincoln a step behind, but I don’t miss the cloaked shadows in the background, lining the exterior.
They’re not alone; their coven is here too.
Refusing to falter now, I look Bryony dead in the eyes. “What is this?”
She clears her throat. “I think we all know.”
“I don’t think we do, so how about you explain it to me?” I insist, and Professor Juniper sighs in frustration.
“Death dances closer with every beat of your heart, and I’m here to wield the sword that does it, Polaris.” Her voice is different. Strong, unwavering, and she looks different too. She always seemed timid and soft, but now, she’s all jagged and harsh. Her glasses are gone, her nose is pointed up at the air as she looks down at me with a withering stare, and her demeanor is riddled with anger.
“I already met my end, yet here I stand,” I goad, cocking a brow at her, and she snarls.
Professor Whitmore claps his hands together twice in a condescending applause that draws my attention to him. “For the first time in almost five hundred years, someone weaved their way through the curse. You should be proud, but I can’t allow it to continue, Polaris.”
“Allow what to continue?” I push for clarity, and his smile grows more strained.
“You, your coven, the binding of the spell you threaten to unravel,” he offers freely, but the truth still feels disguised.
“And whose spell is that?” I ask, tilting my head at them, and Juniper scoffs.
“Sorry?”
“The blood kin curse, who created it?” I reiterate, eager for the answer, and she shakes her head in disbelief.
“We all know who created it,” she alleges, and my eyebrows rise in surprise.
“Do we? Or is it a guise you’ve created to hide your true ulterior motives?” I push back, and she gapes at me in horror as Bryony gulps and Whitmore swipes a hand down his face.
