Page 92 of Conjure

“Say it again,” he whispers, and my blood turns to ice when he opens his mouth to reveal a forked tongue.

“What the fuck?” I breathe, unable to believe my eyes. Then I let out another blood-curdling scream as he slides his serpent tongue up my throat and over my chin to taste the sweat on my skin. I struggle against him, sobbing uncontrollably when he grabs hold of my wrist and digs his fingers into the bandaged stump, a fiery pain spreading through my arm.

I’ll vomit.

I taste it in my mouth as he looks me in the eye. I’ve never felt pain like this. Never felt it consume me.

Through the intense agony, I become aware of a sharp prick at my neck as he inserts the syringe, tracking every flicker of fear. Every wince and swallow.

He holds the syringe steady. “You can feel it, can’t you? The life force draining from you.”

When I whimper, he hushes me again, his deathly cold breath whispering over my lips. “Your friends will think your heart gave out.”

“No, please,” I plead, my eyes burning with tears. “Don’t do this. I don’t want to die.”

He sniffs the air again, groaning deep in his chest. His forked tongue darts out and he drags it over my face in one long stroke. “I could feed on your fear for hours,” he says, revealing sharp, pointed teeth. When he eases back to look at me, my eyes widen with terror. “It’ll be over in minutes.”

I whimper as he grips my chin and pushes down on the syringe, injecting air bubbles into my bloodstream.

“That’s it,” he whispers, caressing my mouth with his thumb. “There’s a good girl.”

“No…” My voice breaks. I don’t want to die. My mom…my family…

He cradles my face the entire time, whispering sickening praise while we wait.

When pain begins to spread through my chest, my body seizes, and his smile widens as the black in his eyes intensifies until it bleeds down his cheeks like ink.

“Come to me,” he urges.

Intense, burning pressure radiates through my chest as my body spasms.

I convulse. Horror has hold of every muscle.

The ink crawls up my legs, starting at my feet and moving over my knees and thighs like a million little spiders or ants in a sea of black. It rises higher and higher, over my lips and in through my nostrils, until darkness is all I see.

TWENTY-SEVEN

CAMRYN

The following day,we gather in the library. Gwen lent me a set of crutches she had used after she broke her ankle the previous year. My injured leg throbs, but I was lucky to get away in one piece.

Aron sits at one of the tables and digs his laptop out of his backpack while Lily scours the old library records.

Gwen looks pale as she sits down beside Aron with a stack of books. The last week has taken its toll on us all. The horror of the situation is finally starting to sink in. Unless we do something, one of us could be next.

“How long are you staying at Gwen’s?” Lily asks, scrolling through news articles. “Will your mom not suspect something is wrong soon?”

Dominic is watching me like a hawk. I wish he wouldn’t treat me like porcelain. I’m fine. It was just a graze. At least, that’s what I tell myself, but I still wince when I sit down.

He walks past me to peruse the shelves, and I lean the crutches against the table before sliding my bag from my shoulder. When my laptop is firing up, I shrug. “Mom is busywith her new job at the hospital. I should get away with a few nights before she grows suspicious.”

“Long enough for you to put weight on your leg again without pulling a face.”

“I don’t understand why you don’t just tell her,” Lily says, pausing to peer at us over her shoulder. “Why the secrecy?”

Gwen rolls her eyes. “A man is dead, Lily. They broke into his house.”

“But they didn’t hurt him.”