Page 6 of Savage Sacrifice
“Let’s go,” Lincoln grunts, cutting through my thoughts as he drapes an arm around Minnie’s shoulder.
I note the small smile she offers Bryony, but she remains tucked under her brother’s arm as everyone files out of theassembly hall. I bring up the rear, waiting for Bryony to follow, but she seems unsure. I don’t have time to deal with uncertainty, so I leave her there.
Following the wolves toward the exit, a thought comes to mind and I stop dead in my tracks.
“Wait,” I holler, and everyone pauses, peering back at me with a mixture of confusion and irritation. “Where’s Polaris’s body?”
I was being held back. One minute she was there, the next she was gone.
“Magic,” Tatum murmurs solemnly, and I frown at him. “It’s like she vanished into thin air,” he offers as an explanation, but it still doesn’t help.
“What about the others? Ben was right fucking there with that stupid fucking knife that?—”
“He vanished too. It’s like they last thirty seconds before they’re just… gone.”
Fuck.
“Do we need to be heading to the medical center, or?—”
Wylder’s question is cut off when footsteps rush from behind me. I frown, glancing over my shoulder, but the steps don’t draw any closer and I find a man stumbling over himself.
Running my gaze over him, I spy worn sneakers, simple denim jeans, and a tatty brown blazer. Black-rimmed glasses frame his eyes, and cropped peppery hair matches his beard. He all but launches himself against the wall, needing the stability to remain on his feet, but it does nothing to aid his labored breathing or the beads of sweat gathering at his temples.
He splays his fingers out along the wall, searching for purchase, but struggles to gain any. He leans forward, bracing himself as he tries to calm his breathing. If anything, it only becomes more jagged.
I’m ready to turn and give the guy some privacy. I've got more important shit to be dealing with. But Bryony steps out of the assembly hall a moment later, and when her eyes latch onto his, Bryony’s widen with surprise.
I can’t decide if it’s hope or panic that washes over her face as she hurries toward him. She practically skids to a stop in front of him, hands on her hips as she tilts her head. “What’s your name?”
It’s a demand, not a question.
She doesn’t even segway into it by checking that he’s alright, and it’s clear he’s not, but there’s no time to waste.
I don’t glance back at the wolves. Instead, I follow my gut and move toward Bryony as she taps her foot impatiently.
“I asked you a question,” she states, and he feebly waves her off, struggling to breathe.
As I near, the clear distress and panic pours from him. “I think he’s a little preoccupied right now, witch,” I grunt, and she rolls her eyes at me.
“He’s also The Keeper Of the Games, Blaze. I want his name,” she snaps, certain of herself, and my eyebrows rise in surprise.
The Keeper Of the Games.
I’ve never really paid attention to him, he’s never really mattered, but it seems he does to her.
“Why?” I ask, and she glares at me.
“Why what?”
“Why does it matter?”
Her pulse quickens, her heart thundering as she presses her lips into a thin line before slowly exhaling. Instead of answering, she crouches down beside him, looking up to meet his gaze instead. “Do you have children?”
Ah, fuck. I really don’t have time for this. Following my gut usually steers me right, but this is pointless.
Shaking my head, I turn away from them, ready to get the hell out of here, when she bombards him even further.
“I’m asking because my friend, she had a vision of you, a memory, and for a girl who attended Florentine’s, those memories are pretty sacred,” she states, her voice softer now, and I spin back around to face them.
