Page 61 of The Souls Harvest
“As much as I want to kill you right now, with my own hands, I think we need to set your fucking betrayal aside and run.” I glare at him sideways, but my eyes fall on the red stain on his shirt that spreads quickly, soaking the fabric.
I point a finger at his face, craning my neck to look him in the eyes, “Do not bleed out until we get away from here. I will not allow it. Youoweme answers. Lots of them.”
His voice is feeble; I hardly hear it when he says, with a grimace more than a smile, “Fine, lead the way, but I want you to have this.”
He searches for something on his back, and when I hold up ahand, flexing my fingers to hurry him, Galen produces a gun—the same he used to kill the Herionos.
“Don’t wait to see someone else pointing a gun at you. If you feel threatened—use it.”
“Don’t give me ideas you may regret,” I snatch the gun from his hand and lower it at my side. “Thanks,” I add, hating the tone of my voice, which is still used to sound friendly when speaking with him.
The rain has stopped completely, and the smell of burning is nearly unbearable. Tongues of flames erupt from the Wise’s head, the tops of its towers swallowed by columns of dark smoke.
We both look up.
We managed to stop them…
“I’m not waiting for the others,” I snap.
“I understand.”
“And you’re not either.”
Galen sighs and drops his shoulders. “They can take care of themselves.”
I bite my lip; my feet refuse to move. “Was Popplewish there—You know what? I don’t want to know.”
“Sof, what do you want me to do?” Galen sounds exhausted, and the air from his mouth has turned dangerously pale.
I grunt in distress. “Just shut up, and let’s get away from this place before it buries us. I hope you appreciate the fact I still have a speck of morality, unlike you, and I’m not leaving you here to die.”
Conscious of his wound, I grab his hand and pull him towardsthe small black gate at the back of the castle.
As if to end our discussion, a couple of bricks fall a few inches from us, exploding in a cloud of dark red powder.
For once, I have to slow down to let him keep up. My run changes to a brisk walk, then weakens to a sudden stop. We’ve left the main building behind, its five towers only an intricate mass of black smoke and orange sparks. But we’re still inside the perimeter of the Wise.
A tall enclosure of black metal bars surrounds us, topped by spiky ends in the shape of miniature towers. The main gate seems so far away, but I keep going because I know that the path running up the hill, beyond that gate, is a longer way to the shore, but it is also isolated and has a few good hiding spots.
I ask, between laboured breaths, “Why the shore?” I don’t know where all my energy is coming from, but it’s liberating to speak freely with Galen once again, even if not for the right reason— even if I want to stop and slap his face hard enough to leave a mark.
But he doesn’t reply and only gives me a look that makes me wonder if I should knock him out and take the opposite direction.
“It is not a trap,” Galen mutters as if reading my mind.
We both pant loudly, studying each other like wolves who used to belong to the same pack. I can’t help but throw quick looks at his wound. It hasn’t spread, but Galen’s face is worryingly pale.
I nod, bracing my hands on my knees. “Right. You’re lucky my only alternative is to go back to that nightmare of flames andsmoke. Can you walk or—”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Oh, I’m not. I don’t want you to slow me down,” I sound so bitter, I surprise myself.
But Galen looks at me through his dark lashes with a smirk.
I keep my expression flat but hurry to loop an arm around his, trying my best to hold him up as I start again for the gate, and to ignore the pain in my shoulder.
“I can see the path of trees that run down the hill towards the shore. We’re nearly there.” A pep talk for us both.
