Page 169 of The Harbinger
I clenched my jaw, my muscle cramping as I pressed down hard, my teeth grinding as I shucked his hand off once more. “I’m aware.”
“As your High Priest and leader, I demand you have her retested.”
My skin flushed, and a hot, prickly sweat trailed the length of my spine as I clenched my fist, my knuckles popping. “It’s a waste of time, but if it will make you drop it, fine.”
“Where is the girl now?”
“She isn’t feeling well,” I repeated the lie for the second time tonight, confirming I made the right decision to have her sit this night out. I stepped away from him, the urge to go to her tugged at me like a lifeline on the verge of snapping.
What if the initial test was wrong? What if she is who Ina predicted? Who would I have to kill to prevent anyone from taking her from me?
Tink. Tink. Tink.
Marina, my mama’s best friend who hadn’t visited since her stroke four months ago, stood at the front of the gardens, a vision in black. Her silver hair was styled in a sleek bob, her wrinkles adding character to her face. She held a champagne glass in her hand, the crystal catching the firelight, which cast a warm glow on her face. Her eyes were steady as she surveyed the crowd, then cleared her throat.
“My dear friends and family,” she said, “I know this is a difficult day for us all, but I believe it is also a day for celebration. My dear friend would have wanted us to remember her with joy, not sorrow. So, I propose a toast to the life of a great prophet.”
I bit back a scoff as she lifted her glass, and the crowd followed suit, the sound of glasses clinking filling the air. She took a sip and continued, “And now, I have one more thing to announce. I have decided to offer my eldest for this year’s Remembrance sacrifice to honor her memory.”
Her words were met with applause and murmurs of approval. She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, before raising her glass once more. “So, my dear friends, let us celebrate the life of a wonderful woman and the good deeds she will continue to do, even in death.” She took a sip of her champagne, then stepped down from the podium.
“Did you know about this?” I asked Ruslan.
“No.”
“Well, it seems someone is running for Ina’s position, and she offered her daughter’s life to get there.”
Chapter 42
Mia
Isatonmybed, and my eyes fixated on the clock on the wall. Each tick of the second hand was like a knife twisting deeper into my heart. He’d left me alone for uncounted hours in my room, confined to wait for his return… again.
What was he feeling right now?
I stood and paced the floors, passing by my untouched meals.
Each time Katya brought me a new one, she’d try striking up a conversation, but my stomach couldn’t handle her flippant behavior to death and betrayal.
Did she not see how her words broke me?
The sun had gone, leaving only darkness outside with the tails of flickering lights in the garden to glow on my side of the windows. Long cast shadows drenched across the forest floor, but it did little to help the overactive stimulation.
Then there was the hangover effect from the cocaine.
My brain screamed for relief until I finally broke down and asked Katya for a pill to tame it down.
I turned on my heel, ready to make the fiftieth counted pass, when the little black book caught my eye.
It had been taunting me, teasing me with its mysterious black cover, but something about it had me rejecting any notion of touching it… until now.
I passed my turning point and found myself standing before it, my finger on the oversize spine, pulling it from its snug space. It was heavy and thick. Its deep black color was faded with age, and its edges were rough and worn. I opened it up, the pages crinkling softly in my hands. Each one was filled with neat Cyrillic handwriting in faded black ink. I carefully flipped through the pages, captivated by the words written within. Chills ran down my spine as I dove deeper and deeper into its pages, the handwriting changing several times. The ink on the back of the book was fresher than the front.
Someone had recently written in this…
Grabbing the dictionary off the shelf, I sat in my chair, flipped to the latest entries, and translated.
31 December 2017