Page 111 of Resurrection
My eyes flick up to check the ceiling in case someone is hiding there and ready to jump on top of me, but only the spotlights hanging from black metal brackets disturb the painted murals there. All done in earthy tones of burnt orange, muted yellow, and different shades of green, the ceiling would’ve made me admire it if I wasn’t fuming right now.
“Did Eddie tell you we had a chat?” I have no idea why I keep talking, but I can’t help myself.
The large, empty room is unnerving for whatever reason.
“He ran like a coward, too,” I tell the still air. “Must’ve gotten that from you.”
I’m already halfway down the narrow path, but it seems I’m the only one here. Maybe there was another door out there I missed. I was just about to turn back when a soft clink of something bumping against it pierces the disturbing emptiness. Cocking my head to the side, I wait, wiping the sticky blood off my chin with the back of my hand.
Nothing.
It falls back to how it was before the clink I heard, and I almost think I imagined it. Fed up with this shit, I straighten my shoulders, glaring at the damn curtain. If she did escape through a hidden passage everything I planned will go to shit.
“Show your fucking face, you bitch!” I snarl in anger. “Or are you brave enough to be near me only when my back is turned so you can stab me in it?”
“I’m not afraid of you, April.” Her soft, familiar voice is like a fist ripping my heart.
She steps out from the side of the curtain but doesn’t move away from it. Her hair is in a braid like I remember it, the shorter part escaping and curling around her face. She filled up her frame too, the curves more obvious now, and I can see her cheeks are bright red even from as far away as I’m standing. Despite all that, her chin is jutted out stubbornly, and her gaze is hard and unapologetic when it meets mine.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” she tells me all calm and collected, pissing me off.
“Yeah?” My voice is eerie when it passes my lips. “You shouldn’t have tried to kill me, yet here we are. All cozy and nice just like the good ol’ times.” My feet are sliding closer, hoping she won’t notice until it’s too late.
“You think it’s all about you, don’t you.” Sara has the gall to shake her head as if disappointed. “What happened in the throne room had nothing to do with you.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Another inch closer. “If you say it was about Sebastian, I swear I will prolong your death for eternity. I’ll turn you just so I can bring you to the brink of death over and over again.”
“You think I lied and hid things from you, yet it’s obvious they are doing the same.” Her face is pinched in frustration. “It had nothing to do with you or him.”
Oh, but it does. Yes, it does, I can see it. She hates me because she wanted him. All this because she can’t have Sebastian.
It’s disgusting.
What’s sad is I would’ve let her have him if only she told me the truth. I didn’t know him then like I do now. That ship sailed a while ago, however.
“What? You changed your mind and wanted Andrei instead?” I’m almost halfway to her now. “Let me tell you a secret, Sara. When you want a cock, it usually works if you tell whoever it’s attached to instead of trying to kill them and everyone around them. I could be wrong, but it’s a thought to consider.”
She says nothing, just sadly shakes her head at me.
I’ve had enough.
Lips curling in a snarl, I dart for her, blind rage pushing me faster than I thought I could move. Her body jerks in fright, but she doesn’t even try to defend herself, her arms hanging loosely to her sides. I should’ve known something was off and stopped if I didn’t already expect it. That familiar scent smacked me in the face stronger than before. Maybe I should’ve listened to Sebastian and stayed at his side, for that matter, but my mind was already made up when I followed Sara and there was noturning back. All I had to do was hope it works out for the best at the end.
All those thoughts zip through my head in less than a second, and the moment I reach her, no amount of regrets or rethinking can stop what happens. My hand reaches for her throat, but I never touch her.
Magic booms from under my feet, sending a bright orange glow up in the air around me. It lifts, forming a dome and closing with a snap, effectively trapping me inside it. My outstretched fingers graze the energy thrumming from it, and a scream is ripped from me when I feel the burn all the way to the tips of my toes. On top of all that, the bitch grins at me like I just told her the best news ever.
“I told you it’d work.” Sara claps her hands in excitement, all acts dropped in the blink of an eye.
“I’m going to feast on your flesh when I get my hands on you,” I tell her, cradling the hurt hand to my chest while suppressing the need to shout in excitement that this crazy plan might actually work. If she takes me to their hideout I might be able to put an end to it once and for all.
“Right.” Her mouth twists in a grimace like she just tasted something foul. “You know how annoying listening to you is?”
“Let’s hope I bore you to death so you can save yourself from misery.” No way she can ignore the promise in my tone but I do lower my gaze to my hurt hand so she doesn’t notice the calculations going through my mind. She is much smarter than I gave her credit for, so it’s about time I start making calculated moves as well.
“We can have this conversation later when the damn Italians are not about to descend on us like devils,” a man’s murmured voice says from behind me.
I turn my body sideways, not wanting to give Sara my back. The man that steps out from behind the curtain is in hismid to late fifties, with a balding head and a narrow face. He stomps when he walks, compensating for his unimpressive, thin body to try and be intimidating is my guess. The ill-fitting suit hangs limply from his shoulders, his lips are thin with wrinkles forming around them, and his nose is hookish and long. There is nothing noticeable about him apart from his beady eyes. Pitch black in color that you can’t tell the difference between the iris and the pupil, they are full to the brim with pure evil as he stares down his nose at me. His whole demeanor lacks any hint of refinement which I’d become accustomed to from the men around me lately, making him come across gauche and unpolished. At least that’s my impression of him at first glance.
