Page 36 of Surviving Hallow Hill
Twelve
She’s moremetal than person, if she could ever have been considered a person to begin with. Her skin, a once-pale color, has now become the blue of a corpse. I’ve seen enough of the dead to recognize the pallor of her skin for what it is... or rather, should be.
Because we’d killed her.
Yet here she is, held up by the scuttling metal tail, little more than a bag of bones and rotting flesh.
Orochimaru-looking bitch, my mind screams.
“Miss Lucero.” Her bluish lips say my name perfectly, but the emotions of her face are lost within the bloating and bruising that line her once-sharp features.
The beautiful woman I met when I walked into the academy all that time ago is gone. She’s died. But Hyde clearly couldn’t bear to bury her.
To let her rest.
Her mechanical tail that once swooped and swished with arrogance drags the ground behind jarring steps as she makes her way over to where I lie. My instinct is to put space between her and me, but I remain protectively over Amrose’s still-unmoving body.
Where are the others? How much time will pass before I can count on them as backup?
When the fuck did I start counting on people?
When?
When you stupidly fell in love with three men.
Oh. Right.
“It’s good to see you again,” I say conversationally.
“Is it?” she quips.
I mean... yeah, we did kind of murder you once upon a time, but... that’s in the past. Like... a couple weeks ago. Details, details.
Her deep-sea eyes are sunken, but they still manage to narrow on me.
Clearly, it’s not that far in the past.
“You appear to be our winner. It’s a shame, really. I was hoping we’d have one more game before naming a victor.” Her long blonde hair falls across her petite shoulders, and it strikes me that her locks are shining and flawless, brushed and well-cared-for.
Lady of Darkness Hyde is such a disturbing fuck.
I don't dare mention the men who are on their way as we speak. Instead, I stall.
“Amrose is still alive.” My hands haven't left her body as I lean against the skinwalker like she’s a sturdy desk. “I’m not the victor if there are two from different teams.”
“Then finish her.” The Headmistress doesn’t blink a hazy eye.
“Fuck you,” I blurt before my mind can think better of it.
Her fat lips tweak into a painful smile. Her shining red heels clack unsteadily over the smooth flooring until she’s staring down on me like a god preparing to smite.
Smite me, you battery-operated bitch.
Her leg rears back and as she flings it forward toward my jaw, my own boot collides with that pretty red heels.
Hyde might have dressed her to impress, but he dressed me for combat.
Her weak legs stagger and metal clashes with dozens of needles and articulate cutting knives clattering to the floor as she clings to a table with medical supplies now scattered everywhere.
