Page 71 of Sloth
“I know that, sugar, but you haven’t been signed out and we have procedures to adhere to. Sir,” she said to Max. “If you could follow me to the administration building, we’ll get Beatrix all signed out.”
“I’ll do it,” Sloan offered.
“No.” Alarm pricked in the dean’s eyes. “I asked the gentleman to do it.”
Had his unsettled stomach not still been there, Max might have laughed at the poor dean. Telling Sloan tonotdo something was the easiest way to get her to actually do it.
Seeing Sloan’s lip twitch in irritation, the dean added, “I apologize if that came out rash. It’s just, the girl’s father mentioned a man would pick her up. A Maximilian Johnson? I need the signature of that person.”
Neither of them wanted to cause a scene, and the quicker they got out of there, the safer Beatrix would be, but Sloan was the one with the supernatural radar. He met her gaze and waited for permission. It took her a moment to realize what he was doing, and then she huffed.
“Fine. You go, I’ll wait here.” She opened the car door and ushered Beatrix inside. “Don’t be long.”
Max opened the trunk of the car and hoisted the luggage in. Once he was done, he bent low toward Sloan as she strapped herself into the driver side. He tucked his finger under her chin and titled her lips to meet his in a slow kiss. When he drew back, and her eyes glazed and softened, he was glad he took the moment. “Don’t go anywhere. Keep the doors locked.”
Still smiling to himself, Max followed the dean halfway back to the admin building, and then stopped. His smile dropped. The hairs on his neck stood to attention. Wind caressed his face, bringing with it air laced with something unnatural. A chemical. What made him stop? What was that smell? Kerosene? He craned his neck back, but noticed nothing in his periphery except the school buildings and empty grounds. Standing there, frozen solid, he listened.
The girls who went to the lake weren’t chattering anymore. Were they out of earshot, or…
“Please, sir,” the dean’s voice wavered. “This way.”
His sight landed on the sweat beading across her forehead. It was a hot day, but notthathot. It had cooled considerably since the morning, yet she had a green tinge to her skin. The yellow ribbon in her hair was loose. When she darted her eyes back to the school’s entrance, Max received a jolt of adrenaline.
Get out!his instincts screamed.Run!
He reached for his gun and pivoted. Pushing off on strong legs, he ran back to the car. But when he arrived and tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. He slammed his palm on the window. “Open up.”
Inside, Sloan tried in vain to open her door. She pumped the handle.
Locked.
How could it be locked?
Max tried another door. Locked.
He ran to the opposite side. Still locked. It was then he caught the view over the car. Walking at an unhurried pace, coming down the steps of the dormitory, were two Faithful, and Sloan’s sister Daisy. Must be her. She wore the bird mask to cover half her face, white leather outfit—neck to toe. Red spatters marred the sleeves and a bullwhip hung at her hip. The Faithful, dressed in their white robes and white faceless masks flanked Daisy down from the dormitory.
The dean looked like she was about to pee herself. Clasping her hands together, she prayed to the white woman. “I tried to get him to come, he wouldn’t…”
Daisy didn’t answer, just had eyes for Max. Violet eyes full of rage, yet her face was slack.
“Will you let the children go?” the dean asked, voice shaking.
Daisy refused to reply. The way she walked with purpose toward Max, not Sloan or Beatrix, had his heart hammering.
He aimed his weapon. “Stop right there, or I shoot.”
A banging in the car told Max that Sloan still couldn’t get out. They’d done something to the locks and windows.
A few feet from where he stood, Daisy stopped. Her foot soldiers kept walking toward the car. They had a container in their hands. A metal can… similar to the type that held kerosene. He swung the gun their way.
“Stop. I swear to God, I’ll shoot.”
“You won’t shoot.” Daisy’s low and monotone voice was devoid of life. Her long white hair swayed on a phantom breeze. “You won’t shoot because, unlike me, you feel something for the people in the car.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with these men and their intent.”
“My soldiers are doused with fuel. You shoot them, you’ll set them aflame. They’ll run straight to the car and… well, I think you can use your imagination.”
