Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“Get ready,” Andor says to me. “Pick off the easiest one. We’ll be waiting here for you when you get back with the egg.”
Then they enter our frame, the Sisters of the Highest Order, a dozen of them walking single file with large spaces between them, muttering a prayer over and over. I remember that prayer, the one that prayed for the wards to fall.
Their religion is based on the end of the world for everyone but them, I think bitterly. As if they’re that special.
We watch as they head toward the chapel. I don’t have much time to act.
I give the guys a knowing look and then we start running as quietly as possible along the backside of the dragons, between them and the obsidian walls.
I scurry along until I’m keeping pace with the last Sister in line, just before they’re all swallowed up by the mouth of the chapel. Then I quickly run across the aisle and grab her by the mouth, sword at her throat, pulling her back into the shadows before she has a chance to scream.
The woman squirms beneath my grip, but she’s weak, and I flip her over and press her to the cold floor, my hand still over her mouth, pressing the black veil into her lips as I straddle her. “I’m going to give you a choice,” I tell her, knowing I could just drag her back to Kirney for him to work his magic. “You make a sound, you die. You stay quiet, you just might live.”
The woman stops squirming and I take it as a sign that she wants to play nice. I remove the sword and my hand long enough to flip the veil up over her head.
And see Sister Marit staring back at me with cold beady eyes, her skin pale and sagging. Her eyes widen at the sight of me, but in pure fright. She wouldn’t recognize me with my long lilac hair.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” I sneer at her, holding the sword so the tip is pressed up under her chin. “But I remember you. The scars on my back remember you. The sound of a whip makes me remember you. And after this, you’ll certainly remember me.”
“I see,” she says, speaking slowly so that my sword doesn’t puncture her. “One of our flock who has fallen to the wolves.”
“I haven’t fallen to the wolves,” I sneer. “I am the wolf.”
She blinks at me, finally afraid.
I press the blade in deeper, enough to draw blood.
“Tell me where they keep the egg of immortality. Tell me and I won’t punish you in the way you deserve.”
“I would rather die,” Sister Marit says starkly, and in the coldness of her eyes, she means it.
She wants it. These lunatics have craved the superiority of death since the day they were born.
As much as I need—want—to slit her throat, I can’t give in to her.
“Andor, Kirney,” I whisper to the guys who have been hovering in the shadows. “Open her mouth.”
They don’t hesitate. They’re on her in a flash, Kirney grabbing hold of her top teeth, careful not to use his thumbs yet, while Andor grips her jaw open at the bottom. The woman starts to thrash and scream but I work fast, lodging the blade of my sword sideways into her mouth to muffle the sound. I’ve never cut out anyone’s tongue before and I know she’ll die from this in the end, but at least I’m making a point, even if it’s one that only has weight with me.
“This is for all of those you’ve silenced,” I tell her, and start sawing the sword in her mouth. It cuts through the corners, making blood pour down, and I think I only get halfway through her tongue before she starts to gurgle and cough on her blood.
I remove the sword and nod at Kirney. “Now.”
He places his thumb on the woman’s cheek and she goes limp and I quickly roll her over on her side so that the blood pours out of her mouth. Then, with the help of Andor, I start pulling her clothes off until I’ve removed her black robe and veil, leaving her in her shift. I try not to look at her frail, old body, try not to feel remorse for what I’ve just done, try to remember the monster that resides in this woman, the same monster that lives inside all the Sisters here.
But is it really her fault? Brainwashed by the cult, by the government? Did they not create the evil inside her?
I shake the thoughts out of my head. I can’t take it back and I have no time for guilt or reflection, not now.
I slip on her robe and veil, wrinkling my nose at the smell, like something astringent mixed with rotted herbs, and look at the guys, trying my best not to stare at her unconscious body as it bleeds out onto the floor.