Page 56 of Marked By His Hunger

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Like it was waiting.

“So, new girl doesn’t trust us with her secrets?” Dietrich teased.

“Um, she’s not the only new girl,” Sapphire snapped.

“No offense, Dietrich, but I don’t know you,” I replied evenly.

And I didn’t.

Trust had cost me too much growing up.

Buckie’s Tavern stood crooked and warm beneath carved eaves.

Inside was laughter, ale foam, wood smoke, roasted herbs.

Comforting.

But the ghosts were thick here.

Seven powerful manifestations.

Dozens fading.

I catalogued them automatically.

Clear ones were newly dead or emotionally anchored.

Blurry ones were drifting.

I’d created that system at eight years old to stay sane.

But that wasn’t the only strange occurrence at Buckie’s.

See, I felt it again then.

That awareness.

Like something enormous had just turned its attention toward me.

Not a ghost.

Not a spectre.

Something alive.

And hungry.

It was there.

Watching.

My skin prickled.

“Water for me,” I said quickly.

I had a thing about drugs and alcohol. See, after being forced to take so many different medications when I was younger I preferred to remain in full control of my faculties at all times.

So booze? Recreational drugs? Hard pass on both.

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