Page 8 of Savage Sacrifice (The Savage Six #4)

WYLDER

“ A re you sure we’re in the right place?” Lincoln murmurs, scrubbing at the back of his head as he eyes the row of houses before us.

Each one is symmetrical to the last—the perfect American suburb. It’s awful.

Where is the land? The trees? The animals? It’s not for me. Maybe it’s my wolf talking, but either way, I want the acreage. I long to see Polaris lying on a picnic blanket in a field of wildflowers, smiling up at the sun before I slip a hand beneath her dress and find euphoria.

My heart lurches at the thought. A void of negativity and despair looms over me, but I hold on, refusing to let it cripple me. The reality is, we could be mistaken here; Polaris might truly be gone, but we’re all delusional enough in our love for her to hope it’s a lie.

“This is where we were the last time,” Blaze states, pulling me from my thoughts. I turn to look at the rest of them.

Lincoln flanks Minnie on her left and Bryony on her right, while Blaze stands a step ahead, closer to the house, Asher right beside him with his hands folded over his chest, and Tatum hovers behind.

I shuffle a few steps closer and position myself beside Tatum.

If he notices, he doesn’t acknowledge me as Minnie clears her throat.

“What do we do now?” she asks, shuffling nervously from foot to foot, and Bryony drapes a comforting arm around her shoulder.

Lincoln glares at the contact. He definitely doesn’t trust Bryony right now, that much is for sure, but I can’t decide if his over-analysis of her actions is something to agree with or let be, since it really could be the blood kin curse consuming his thoughts.

“We stop waiting around,” Blaze grunts in response, and we all wordlessly head for the house. Uncertainty wars inside of me, but it’s outweighed by the hope that takes root.

We’re at the door in a heartbeat and Blaze wastes no time rapping his knuckles against the wood. The second he does, Minnie gasps, garnering everyone’s attention, but her stare is set on the vampire in front of her.

“What if she recognizes you for taking her coin? She’s never going to help us then,” she blurts, and Blaze shakes his head with a small eye roll.

“Please, I didn’t leave a mess. I compelled her,” he insists, and the door opens behind him.

Disappointment floods my veins when Krystal comes into view. Her long hair isn’t silver, her eyes aren’t the sharpest shade of blue, and her nervous smile doesn’t resonate in my chest.

It’s my own fault for subconsciously hoping Polaris would just be here, which would be the end of it all. Unfortunately, life is a little more cruel than that, and I should really know better.

“Is Polaris here?” Bryony asks when no one else says a word, and I peer at Tatum, noting his head tipped to the floor and his hands in his pockets. If I were to guess, I’d say we’re both feeling the exact same thing right now. Maybe the others, too, if their silence is anything to go by.

“Polaris?” Krystal repeats, her eyebrows gathering in confusion, and I clear my throat, but Lincoln speaks before I get a chance.

“Yeah. She’s about this tall,” he starts, measuring his hand against his chin. “Silver hair, shimmering blue eyes, and a pretty pink hue permanently etched in her cheeks,” he offers, and I have to fight against the pull to close my eyes and visualize her for myself.

Instead, I watch with more disappointment as Krystal shakes her head. “I have no idea who that is.”

“Are you sure?” Minnie asks, her voice breaking as a sob threatens to rattle from her, and Krystal’s frown deepens.

“Why would I lie?” She takes a step back, ready to slam the door in our faces, and my heart rate quickens.

No.

I’m not done here. Not yet. We obviously need another tactic, and fast.

My feet carry me before I even realize it, side-stepping the others in front of me until I’m right at the door, Blaze a step behind me.

I let the concern I feel inside reflect on my face, but for an entirely different reason. “Sorry, did you…were you…” I swipe a hand down my face, playing it up more before I lock my gaze on hers. “Were you in the hospital a few weeks back?”

She tilts her head to the side. “Yes.”

I let my jaw fall slack as my arms widen. “I thought I saw you there.”

“You were there?” she repeats, instinctively taking a step toward me as her assessment of me becomes more focused.

“Yeah, I uh, banged my head,” I mumble, tapping my temple, and she gapes at me.

“Did you lose your memory too?” she blurts, hands pinning to her chest, and I nod.

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, and I can see the heartache in her eyes.

Her memory recovery isn’t going well, and if what we think Polaris may have believed is true, then it goes a whole lot deeper than she realizes.

It’s not that she doesn’t remember her life from before; it’s because it never existed.

Everything she once knew, nothing is the same, and if she’s feeling this despair, and Polaris is potentially out there feeling the same… fuck.

I can’t stand it.

I try to offer a reassuring smile. “Have you managed to remember anything yet?”

“No, but my friend is in the same boat,” she offers, pointing over her shoulder. “We were in a car accident together, but we’re making it work. College isn’t so bad, and I’m taking each day as it comes,” she explains, but I see the truth in her eyes; she’s scrambling.

Instead of pointing out her lie, I nod. “If you ever remember anything, give me a call. I’m desperately hoping for the same.”

I take a card from my wallet, my number scribbled on the paper, and silently thank Lincoln’s obnoxiousness that insisted we get these done. It’s never come in handy until now, and it’s never been as important. I’m not thanking him, though. He doesn’t need an ego boost.

“Will do,” she breathes, and I nod, taking a step back, and she closes the door between us.

The second she does, Blaze whirls on me. “What the fuck was that?”

“Well, your way of dominating the situation wasn’t working,” I offer, and he rolls his eyes at me.

“Screw you,” he snaps back, and I shrug, which only seems to irritate him more. He steps closer so we’re toe to toe, but I don’t back down. The guy is clearly running on pure emotion, and I’m the closest target for him to unleash them on.

“If she’s not here, where do we go now?” Tatum asks, cutting through the tension, and my brows furrow with uncertainty.

“I don’t know. Maybe the house next door?” Minnie suggests, and everyone turns to her with questions in their eyes. “What? If Krystal is who we think she is, who Polaris believed she was, then who’s to say that they don’t just fill these homes with discarded supernaturals?”

My mouth opens to object, but no words come out.

She has a point.

“Wait, so you think they just fill up rows as they go?” Blaze asks, seeking clarification, and Minnie shrugs.

“Maybe.”

As if sensing our querying thoughts, the door to the house next door opens, stealing my breath, until an older couple steps out hand in hand. They don’t acknowledge our existence, too caught up in each other to see the rest of the world.

“That doesn’t look like her,” Lincoln mutters, and another wave of disappointment ripples through my bones.

Uncertainty wars inside of me, the next step in trying to find my Little Witch blurred.

“What about where the other coin was?” Blaze asks, piquing my interest.

“Yeah, let’s go and check there,” I agree, desperate to do anything to get one step closer to Polaris.

“Witch, witch us,” Lincoln grumbles, and Bryony scoffs at him, but doesn’t utter a word as we stalk down the street to a more private spot.

“Someone visualize the location,” Bryony murmurs, and Minnie nods.

“Got it.”

Everyone places a hand on Minnie. I hold her forearm and close my eyes as Bryony whispers under her breath. A soft breeze flutters around my neck before quickly settling back down, and I open my eyes to find the scenery around us is completely different.

There are no symmetrical houses here. It looks run down. Tall apartment blocks loom over us, blocking the sun from touching our skin, and an eerie feeling creeps over me.

Lincoln takes the lead this time, Minnie at his side, since they’ve been here before when they originally got the coin, and the rest of us follow in tandem.

As he nears the closest building, I can’t help but notice the boarded-up windows, shattered glass across the pavement, and burnt-out cars lining the road.

No one says a word as we head inside, taking the stairs two at a time until we reach the third floor. Lincoln stops in front of a door, but before he knocks, he turns to us, scrubbing the back of his head nervously.

“So about this,” he starts, and I raise an eyebrow in question.

“What did you do?” I ask, and he glares at me before sighing.

“We kind of left things messy,” he mutters, but he doesn’t offer any further explanation before he knocks on the door. A few moments pass with no noise from the other side, and he takes that as his cue to slam his shoulder into the wood.

The door busts open at his touch, revealing a small, open living area. The kitchen counters are cluttered with unwashed dishes and takeout boxes, while the sofa is hidden under piles of dirty clothes.

Lincoln ignores all of it, heading toward the door on the left, and I follow after him, an awful smell growing stronger with every step. I note the small wince on his face before he pries the door open to reveal a dead body splayed across the dirty mattress.

“I’d definitely say this is messy,” I mutter, eyeing the dead body, but I don’t recognize them.

“Does anyone know who it is?” Blaze asks, and everyone shakes their head.

The girls pinch their hands over their noses and hurry back to the living area.

“You really could have forewarned us about that before we left,” Bryony grumbles, and I agree, but opt to keep my mouth shut and focus on the task at hand.

There has to be something here.

Anything.

“Let’s look around and try to find something. We can’t leave empty-handed,” I insist, scanning the room. There’s a broken cell phone on the coffee table, lying on top of college campus documents, but otherwise, it looks like everything else in here is trash.

“There was a roommate, I believe,” Minnie states, pointing at the door on the other side of the room, and I nod, hurrying in that direction.

“They must not be here. Not with that smell,” I grumble, my nose curling with distaste, and she nods in agreement.

I knock out of courtesy, but no answer comes, so I turn the handle and the door creaks open.

My eyes immediately latch on to another dead body.

“Lincoln,” I grunt, gaping at the bloody scene before me, and he huffs.

“I didn’t do that!” he snaps, insistently, and the surprise on his face leaves no room to question him.

“Fuck.” I spin, finding the source of the curse, and my eyes land on Asher.

He shoulders his way through the crowd, stepping over the threshold into the room and shaking his head with every step.

“Asher?” I murmur when he stops beside the bed, turning to us with a mixture of anger and disbelief etched into his face.

He reaches for something beside the body and my heart sinks as he lifts a black feather in the air.

Fuck.

The mark of The Crow.