Page 42

SACRIFICIAL LAMB

GRACE

W hen I wake, it’s to sunlight on my face. Night has officially passed, the sun has risen, and any hope of Sebastian coming back disappears. My bones ache as I shift into a seated position. A steady pulse beats against my skull, and my mouth is so dry it’s impossible to swallow.

I hope you all made it , I think distantly. I hope you killed as many of them as you could.

“You’re awake,” a voice says.

I startle, craning my neck to look at the doorway. Now that it’s daylight, I realize this building is even smaller than I originally believed. The stones are old and decrepit, with vines growing between the gaps and through the opened windows. Down the way, a cell identical to mine sits empty.

At the doorway, an older witch stands with exaggerated, stiff posture. She reminds me of an old-timey headmistress, the kind who’d make her students walk with books on their heads.

I don’t even know if that’s a real thing. If it is though, she fits the bill perfectly .

“Yes,” I say, stating the obvious, if only because she did first. “Who are you?”

“Your new guard.” She’s wearing bright and layered clothing, the colors of a vibrant autumn day. I always imagined Cora’s people—and mine, I guess—were dark and bleak like she is. I expected black clothing and neglected hair.

This woman is colorful. Full of personality. Of life.

“Brave,” I say. “Considering what my friends did to the last one.”

I want to smirk at her, to make it clear I’m taunting her, testing her. To show her they haven’t broken me like they hoped. Instead, I can’t muster even the barest amusement.

I slept for hours, and yet, I feel emotionally and physically drained. I think I gave away part of my soul last night, trying to escape this hellish place.

“Well, unfortunately for your friends, their greatest enemy is here to protect us,” she says.

She walks the length of the room, planting her heeled boots in front of my cell.

She’s pretty, for a miserable hag. She looks past me, out my window and to the glaring sun.

“By the time it’s safe for them to return, you’ll already be dead. ”

I suck in a hard breath. My last guard refused to tell me anything, and though I suspected this was their plan, I hoped it wasn’t. Suspecting something and having it confirmed are entirely different beasts.

Especially because this horrible woman is right. If they kill me now, there won’t be a thing Sebastian can do to stop it. He’s mortal in the sun. His army will literally burn in it. And Cora, powerful as she may be, can’t take down these people on her own.

She’d be suicidal to even try.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask .

I expect her to give me a mocking smile as her predecessor did.

At the very least, I assume she’ll waltz back to her post at the door.

Instead, she sits in the gravelly dirt, curling her bare legs to sit on them.

Her bright orange skirt flows over her lap, and she smooths it with her manicured fingers.

“What the Mother wants,” she says. She looks up at me, hazel eyes drifting over my clothes and undoubtedly wild hair. “It is She who decides, not us.”

“The Mother?” I repeat. This sounds like something out of a cult documentary, and my stomach sours at the thought. Only now do I realize how little I know about witches. Everything I saw from Cora aligns far more closely to the vampires than…whatever the hell these people are.

“Yes,” she says. She tips her nose up slightly. Rather than elaborating, she continues. “The Mother keeps our world in perfect harmony. Through her, and only her, we achieve balance, love, unity. Peace, Grace. Do you understand?”

“Does your Mother’s harmony often involve the death of an innocent?” I ask. I ignore the way my heart races, the way my muscles twitch, begging me to run. They don’t understand I have nowhere to go, that I cannot fight what is about to happen.

“I do not expect you to understand,” the woman continues. She speaks as if I’m a child, too naive to understand her grand knowledge. “But I thought you deserved to know. It is not your death we seek, but the harmony it will bring. The safety for all in the Echo, not only our coven’s.”

“You’re crazy,” I say. I move from the bars to slump against the nearest wall. My adrenaline is pumping too hard for me to feel tired, but I decide to trust Cora’s advice. I need this woman to believe I’m exhausted, that I’m nowhere near a threat .

I need her to leave me alone. I can’t think, let alone cast magic, with this psychotic woman staring at me.

“You look like your father,” she says. She gives me a soft smile, and I’m sure she thinks it looks like the perfect combination of empathy, sadness, and selflessness. Crazy. She looks freaking crazy. “Your father was a good man, Grace. I truly believe he would have understood our decision.”

“Clearly not enough to ask him,” I say. I tip my head back, looking at the cracked ceiling instead of her. “The dead seem to forgive far easier than the living.”

When I look back, the woman gives me a tight smile.

“You should rest,” she says. “This will all be over soon.”

She rises to her feet, moving swiftly for her post.

“How long?” I ask. She pauses, looking over her shoulder at me with a lifted eyebrow. “How long before you slaughter me like a sacrificial lamb?”

This time, she doesn’t answer. She turns away and slinks into a corner I can’t see. Apparently, she’s told me all I deserve to know.

As it turns out, my sacrifice is scheduled for the early afternoon. It’s long enough I can practice my magic, but nowhere near enough time to feel ready. My best chance at escaping is to make my move while they’re taking me to wherever I’ll be sacrificed.

Murdered .

I swallow, forcing the thought from my mind. There’s no time to be scared. I’ll only get one chance to escape, and if I miss it…

Do not think about it, Grace. You cannot think about it .

It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff and trying to keep your balance. If you look down, the fear of falling might make you stumble. If you don’t look, you don’t know to be scared. You’ll stand perfectly still, as easily as anywhere else.

“It’s time,” my guard says. She approaches me, flanked by two men. One is short and thin, the other tall with lean muscles. None of them look like they’d win a fight, but I know better than to judge a witch by their size.

The three work to undo whatever magic they’ve cast over my cell. They each hold a different herb and chant in eerie unison. I wonder, had Cora had those herbs, would her spell have worked? It’s useless knowledge now, but I try to memorize the way they look and smell all the same.

I shift on my feet, stepping back as the door opens. My cell reeks of pee, and despite everything, I’m tempted to apologize. I don’t let myself. I exit the cell with my chin lifted and my jaw clamped tight.

My plan isn’t elaborate, and it’s certainly not foolproof. There are a hundred things that could go wrong, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m dead either way. Let me at least fight. Let them all know I was outnumbered and overpowered, and that I still tried.

We walk from the dingy prison, out into a sprawling field of neatly trimmed grass and a path of square stones. The woman follows behind me, and the men flank me on either side.

I blink against the sun’s brightness. It feels too hot against my skin, and I’m reminded just how rarely I’ve been outside since coming to the Echo.

If by some miracle I survive, I am going to stand in the sun every day for hours.

I’ll soak up the warmth until it's embedded in my pale skin, until I can feel it even when I’m indoors.

After twenty minutes of fast-paced walking, we reach the top of a hill.

On its other side, a small town winds between a thick forest and a slow-moving river.

The streets are filled with witches, all wearing clothes and hairstyles as bright and lively as the three surrounding me.

Some, like my female guard, wear oranges and reds and golds.

Others wear cool shades of grey and white and dark blues.

Then more are lavender, pale pink, and pastel yellow. And finally, sky blue and bright green.

The seasons, I decide. They dress by season, and if that doesn’t show exactly how much of a cult these freaks are, I don’t know what would.

Few of them look at us, and I get the feeling they’ve been instructed to keep their distance. I look away from the town, studying the river and then the forest. I don’t know which direction leads back to the Night Realm. It was too dark last night, and my fear was too great to pay attention.

All those years of Dateline for nothing.

The men walk for the river, and I fall into step between them. We’re going to avoid the town altogether, it seems. I take another glance at the trees. Whether they lead toward the Night Realm or not, they seem like a safer bet. There are many places to hide in a forest, and I’m not a great swimmer.

A large bird flies overhead, momentarily blocking out the sun. I look up. The bird is gone, but I realize my guards have looked up too. They pause, turning toward the woman guard.

“Was that—” the short man asks.

“Let’s move faster,” the woman says from behind me. “We don’t want to keep the council waiting.”

Perhaps it was not a bird at all .

A spark of hope pulses up my spine. The vampires might not be able to help me now, but that doesn’t mean no one can. I scan the skies again, searching but there is only clear blue and wispy clouds.

The woman presses between my shoulders, urging me along. It’s the only confirmation I need: I am not alone out here.

By the time we reach the base of the hill, we’re jogging. I’m already covered in sweat and my limbs are shaking. I haven’t eaten in over a day, and my body is running on fumes. If we keep this pace, I’m going to pass out long before we reach our destination.

I gasp for breath as we move, keeping my eyes on the river and the forest and the sky.

Constantly waiting for a moment, even a split-second of opportunity.

Before I find my chance, the ritual comes into view.

A raised platform stands in the center of a barren patch of dirt.

The wooden structure is weathered and water-damaged, and it’s clearly older than I am.

I wonder if this is where they kill all their prisoners, if Cora ever feared this stage as I am now.

My mouth turns sour with the taste of my own bile. I fall to my knees and puke across the grass. The men yank me back to my feet, and the woman shoves my shoulders again.

“Keep moving,” she demands.

But she doesn’t understand. I can see it. The lifted stage, the dozens of witches standing before it. The same macabre artifacts Cora had during our attempt to break the curse. And there, in the center of it all, is a large rectangle of glass.

It’s deep and wide. Too large to be considered a bowl or even a container. It’s a freaking kiddie pool of glass.

For my blood.

Every last drop.

“Don’t make me,” I say, falling limp in their grip. They easily hold me between them, straining my shoulders at the joints. I’m crying so hard I can barely speak. “Please, don’t! ”

“If you comply, we will make it quick,” the woman says. She pauses the men, whipping to come in front of me. “Look at me, Grace Pruce. If you comply, it will be over before you realize it’s happening. We’ll make it painless. If you don’t?—”

It’s the perfect opening, and I force myself to take a deep breath.

“Did you make my father’s death painless?” I ask. My voice shakes, but I glare at her with every ounce of hatred I’ve built over the last few months.

They made my mother look crazy.

They stole my father from me.

He tried to protect me.

When he could have exposed my existence to save himself, he died silently, so they could never find me.

“Yes,” the woman replies. She speaks the word with more conviction and self-righteousness than should be possible. So arrogant, so superior as she looks down at me.

“You didn’t though,” I say. I blink, letting tears roll down my cheeks.

“Death is never painless. My mother felt the pain of losing him for the rest of her life. I’ve felt it too.

And even once I’m gone, my brother will feel it still.

Except worse, because now he’s lost his father and his sister to you monsters. ”

The woman stills. I’m only looking at her, my expression carefully twisted. Still, I feel the guards’ shock. All three of my captors have stopped moving.

I play the part I’ve mastered for years. The dumb blonde. The ditzy girl who’s oblivious to the world around her.

I have a brother , I chant inside my head. What? Is that a problem for your curse or something?

I blink innocently at the woman, showing only the anger and terror I still feel. I bury the fact I’m lying as deep as I can. For all I know, these witches can sense deception, so I can’t give them an ounce of uncertainty or guilt.

I have a brother , I repeat to myself. He’s Walter’s son too. He has Pruce blood too, and so long as he’s alive, your curse will be threatened. If you kill me, you’ll have no way of finding him.

“Brother,” the woman finally repeats. I don’t know if she thinks she’s being subtle, but she’s not. I can taste the panic radiating off her.

“Don’t you even think of touching him,” I say. “You already have me. So use me for whatever stupid magic you need, but don’t you dare think of hurting him.”

I bend my fingers, then straighten them. My magic may be weak, but if they don’t buy my lie, I’m ready to throw whatever I’ve got.

“She’s lying,” the man to my left says.

I pulse my fingers again. I don’t let myself react, too terrified I’ll give something away. If this man has some supernatural ability to catch lies, I’m screwed. But if not…

“Take her back,” the woman snaps. “Let me consult with the council.”

“Madam,” the other man starts.

“Not another word,” she snarls. She strides toward the ritual, waving her hand again. “Take. Her. Back.”

They do, and I’m shaking with too many emotions by the time I’m locked in my cell. I curl into the corner, facing away from them as they replace the trapping spell over my door. Soon enough, they leave.

I hear the men whispering about me, trading theories over whether I’m full of shit. I don’t engage. I just wait, trembling and hoping the woman doesn’t return before nightfall.