Anathema (Causal Enchantment #1)(31)

A chill ran down my spine as I ran our brief conversation through my head. I hadn’t given my name, had I?

He chuckled. “You really should be more careful, sharing information with strangers. Even sweet old ladies. Looks can be deceiving.” His smile sent a chill through me.

I managed a small gasp, shocked that the bird–feeding lady could be in league with them.

“When we saw you leave the leech house alone, we were intrigued. So we followed you here.” I remained silent but my bewilderment at their “leech” reference to Viggo and Mortimer’s place must have been evident, because the round–faced man cocked an eyebrow. “So they’ve kept their secret from you … interesting. They’re very good at it, aren’t they? And there aren’t as many telltale signs as the stories would have you believe.” He paused. “I can’t believe they allowed you out on your own, though … Why are you with them?”

I swallowed hard several times, struggling to form words. “I’m just visiting … I don’t know what they’ve done to upset you, but I have nothing to do with it.” I started trembling.

“On the contrary, we believe you have everything to do with it,” the woman interjected, her voice cold and detached. “You are here with Sofie, correct?”

I blinked. How do they know so much?

The woman closed the distance between us. Those eyes … hazel eyes with dark green flecks, like the old lady’s eyes. She must be a granddaughter. A grandmother–granddaughter criminal team—that had to be a first.

The woman paced around me slowly, like a cat circling its prey. “You’re human; I would know, otherwise.”

I fought hard to stave off tears. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Perhaps you don’t; it wouldn’t surprise me that Sofie didn’t inform you of her designs for you. She’s cunning, that one,” she mused. Her eyes darted to my pendant and she reached up, but her hand hovered over the stone, not touching it. “Incredible,” she murmured. Her mouth crooked in a smile of realization. “Do you know what she’s done to you?”

I noticed her eyes flicker toward the bushes; they narrowed suspiciously, and she started backing away. “So sorry, if you are indeed guiltless,” she said in a rush, nodding to the man with the gun.

He answered by raising the weapon to point at my chest.

I heard the click of the trigger.

Once, I had wondered what a bullet would feel like, tearing into my flesh and organs. I expected it would involve a considerable amount of pain. I didn’t expect that the impact would send my body flying as if hit by a train.

But it did. The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back some distance away, with a crushing weight in my chest. The bullet must have punctured my lung because I couldn’t inhale. This is what drowning in your own blood must feel like. I hoped it wouldn’t take too long. It was painful.

I was lying on a cushion of brittle leaves, staring up at the overcast sky as I made my peace with God, when the tightness in my chest began to subside. I found I could inhale again—small breaths at first, then increasingly normal ones. Maybe I would be okay. If I could get to a hospital. If I could get away from here.

I closed my eyes and remained still, feigning death until I was sure they were gone.

A wet nose poked against my cheek. Badger, checking to see if I’m dead yet. That mutt would surely give me away, I realized, fighting panic. I kept my eyes closed, trying to calm myself.

Another, more forceful nudge against my cheek— followed by a familiar whine. I dared to peek through one eye to see Max’s large snout. He was lying beside me. Three other massive black bodies surrounded us, on guard. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. The dogs must have scared off everyone.

“Oh, thank you, Max!” Propping myself up on one elbow, I reached over to stroke Max’s shoulder. I felt something warm and slick. I pulled my hand back, gasping when I saw the blood.

Examining Max’s fur, I found the tiny hole where a bullet had entered. The bullet that was meant for me, I realized then, checking my chest to see that I was unscathed. Well, almost unscathed. Max nosed my left hand, growling. It was covered in my own blood from a deep gash across my palm. I must have cut it on a rock when I fell. When Max crashed into me to take the bullet.

“I have no idea how you guys found me, but let’s get out of here before they come back,” I whispered, staggering to my feet.

My stomach lurched.

No one had left.

They wouldn’t be going anywhere, except in body bags.

Body parts were strewn everywhere, heads practically decapitated, necks torn wide open. And blood—pools of it. So much blood that it stained the forest floor bright crimson. I spotted Badger’s head lying three feet away from me, his lifeless eyes staring vacantly up at the sky, his tongue lolling out. His body was nowhere in sight.

The trees began whirling around me. I was unconscious before my body hit the ground.

Sitting on the leather couch in the library, I watched in silence as a diminutive, elderly woman cleaned and stitched the three–inch gash on the palm of my hand with skilled precision, her slender fingers weaving the needle in and out of my flesh. It should have been painful. Instead, I felt nothing.

I recall stirring only once after seeing the corpses, to find myself cradled in Leonardo’s gentle arms. When I came to again, I was lying on a sheet on the hardwood floor in Viggo and Mortimer’s library, a maid hovering over me with a set of blood–free clothes, adamant that I remove mine immediately. Once changed, I watched her toss the stained outfit and the sheet into the lit fireplace. Slightly dramatic, in my opinion, but the clothes were ruined so it didn’t matter.