Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Wild wind drove leaves ahead of me to skitter across the lawn. The frost-crusted blades sparkled and crunched like snow beneath my heavy footfall. There seemed to be an even thicker dusting of ice this close to the tall hedge. I almost thought I saw ice freezing the ground solid, spearing outward like cracks in a windshield, off-shooting from the main impact of a stone hurtled against it.
As I stalked over to Tabitha and wailing Toolface, the blood in my veins ran cold and my heart hammered loudly in my ears making it hard to even think. Bitterly cold wind stirred my straggly hair and prickled my skin into gooseflesh.
Tabitha stood over Toolface, taller in those weird shoes of hers with their even weirder tire-tread soles. Her white socks were neatly turned-down and her sexy as hells bare legs were exposed to the elements. The naturally golden skin of hers was dimmed by the oppressive shadow cast by the looming mansion. Her striking features in her heart-shaped face slackened as she watched the soccer ball slowly roll to a stop. Then she reacted and snatched the wooden spoon from the belt of her woolen jacket with one of her mitten hands, the string pulling taut between the two.
Behind me, I heard a whistle ring out, long and hard, and a piercing cry of, "Penalty!"
I shouldn't be thrusting myself into Tabitha's world and her personal affairs, but I couldn't stop my legs from carrying me toward her. At the very least, I had a somewhat decent cover-up story for my presence by accidentally kicking Tomas in the face with the soccer ball.
The teenagers I'd joined, purely because they were the closest to Tabitha, were standing around blatantly staring at me in interest, and I was conscious of a few nearby onlookers stealing glances too. In the corner of my eye, I noted the game carrying on with a penalty kick from that Wallace kid I'd saved from Jurgana's oil-slick beasts. With the chaotic noise coming from the soccer match I was pretty sure no one would be taking much notice, much less hear our conversation if I could get amongst the pair of them to talk.
Tomas looked forlornly down at his stupid boyband attire, the matching denim jacket and jeans with drops of blood marring the blue material. He'd even, like a douche, had his gold chain necklace pulled out to hang on top of the front of the jacket, instead of tucked inside like any other man.
"I'm okay. It just hurts like hells," Tomas reassured Tabitha, his nasally voice stuffy as he tugged a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and used it to mop up the blood dripping from his nose. "I'm just worried it'll permanently ruin my looks."
"Your nose is going to be just fine," Tabitha soothed. "Our physician will set it straight."
Tomas stared up at Tabitha from where he was sitting on the frosted grass with a cocky hopeful look, but with all the blood splattered over his face and the brutal swelling and fresh blooming bruises, I couldn't be so sure. "Maybe you could take me to the infirmary and sit beside me. Maybe you'd like to hold my hand and nurse me back to health, Tabitha?"
