Page 113 of The Blood we Crave

“I’m interested in speaking to all of you, actually.”

Impressive how she hit a wall in trying to intimidate me and quickly readjusted, working her attention towards those she feels I care for. To her credit, she’d done her research, probably knows how intertwined all of us are.

On paper, she probably thought she had all my weak spots tucked in her pocket. But I’m impervious to her mediocre game of chess. I even have a rook for her knight, and if he keeps staring at me, I’ll let my game piece set him on fire.

Odette stares kindly in Lyra’s direction, her small body swiveled around in the chair. With a gentle movement, the detective reaches her hand forward, offering the pale card.

It’s pure instinct. I barely notice the movement myself. My hand curls around the metal of Lyra’s chair, myarm blocking her body from the offered card.

I regret it the moment I see the detective’s eyes sharpen, a knowing grin tugging on the edge of her lips. She quickly changes directions. Instead of handing it to only Lyra, she slips the paper onto the table.

“Call me if you hear anything useful.” She pulls away, straightening her jacket. “Thatcher, I’ll be seeing you.”

It’s several moments later before I make it out to my car, finally able to leave after making sure everyone, mostly the girls, know not to speak to anyone without a lawyer present.

My mistake of showing the detective that I unfortunately have a weakness makes my palms itch. One that I can no longer deny. One that would never be on paper but had bloomed inside of me like a vicious ivy.

Lyra and Lyra only. My instinctual need to shield her had opened a doorway with enough room for Odette to use her against me. My jaw aches with tension after clenching my teeth together for too long.

I sling my car door open, sinking into the leather seat and pressing my palms into my eyes as I lean back on the headrest. My head thrums with regret.

How had I let her get this close? How could I have been so weak?

Those questions feel so trivial now that I’ve allowed myself to be in this position. I am here and need to find a way out of this web Lyra has woven me into. I’ve let her haunt me far longer than I should’ve.

It’s time for an exorcism.

I can’t trust myself around her because she’s so overwhelming that all I can seem to think about is her when she is in my vicinity. Not my safety or the secrets that could send me to prison.

Just her.

This is a game of survival, and if something makes you weak, you cut it off. And that’s exactly what I need to do to Lyra. Cleave her off me, removed with a swift, clean slice. It will only put both of us in danger if we continue. Her life and my freedom are at risk.

This is my only choice.

And as if to solidify my decision to amputate her from my life, when I open my eyes, in my passenger seat lies a present that hadn’t been there when I’d arrived earlier.

A severed human hand rest on the brown leather, a neat bow tied around one finger, a fresh rose resting alongside it, and a note just off to the side that reads in stark letters:

I warned you.

spider bites

TWENTY-TWO

lyra

I can’t find him.

It’s been nearly two weeks since I last saw him, last spoke to him. All my calls were left unanswered, text messages delivered without a single reply.

There hadn’t been a whisper of him on campus or anywhere in Ponderosa Springs for weeks.

Not at the coffee shop on Fifth, where he pays five dollars for an Americano every Tuesday and Thursday when he has an eight a.m. class. The gallery his family owns that he goes to on Saturday mornings was void of his presence.

He hadn’t been jogging, not on his regular path or any path, as far as I knew. I’d woken up every day with the hope he would be there, but I always left with sore feet and a solemn heart.

When I’d asked Alistair where he’d gone, his reply was void of answers or hints. He simply looked at me and said, “We don’t ask questions, Lyra. He tells us what he wants. We know what he needs. We don’t question why.”