I thought the introduction wasthe welcome. I try not to look nervous as a few voices call out.
“Yes! Great idea, Sable.”
“It’s been too long.”
One of them finishes scraping her blade along a whetstone and holds it up. “I have the dagger.”
Across from her, another demon tips back the last of her drink and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Holding up her mug she says, “I got the Chalice.”
My stomach drops. What have I gotten myself into now?
Anatha leans over and whispers, “It’s tradition. We all share our blood as a sign of acceptance. It’s only a small cut. You’ll barely feel it.”
My hands go cold at the idea of cutting. This isn’t the same as before. I know that. But that feeling…what if it makes me want to cut again?
A table shifts next to me, bringing my focus back. Grabbing my cushion, I scoot as everyone forms a circle. The blonde female, Sable, ends up on my right, close enough that our knees touch.
Anatha already has the dagger and cup in her hand when she steps into the center. She raises her palm, giving me a warm smile. A faint metallic scent fills the tent as she makes a cut and squeezes her fist, allowing blood to drip into the chalice. She says something in another language and passes the cup to Beleth.
I try to make out the words every time they’re spoken, but my turn is edging closer and I have no idea what they’re saying. God, I wish Jess was here. I fidget with the hem of my shirt.Stay calm, Frankie. You can do this.
I barely register the movement when a hand closes over mine. Sable leans in and whispers, “In…san-GUI-ne…re-CI-pi-mus,” slowly breaking down the chant in syllables. She nods her head and smiles when I repeat the words back to her.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice low, as the cup stops in front of me. My throat feels tight, and for a second I just stare at the dark swirl inside.
The demon to my left nudges me and I take the cup and dagger from her. I hate that my hands are shaking.This isn’t the same.
Sable shifts closer. “You can do it.”
I pull in a breath and hold it as the blade presses into my palm, making the cut. The moment my skin splits, the old feeling hits. The rush, the pull that whispersjust a little deeper.
No! This is different. It has to be.
I breathe through my teeth, thankful when the feeling fades.
Holding my fist over the cup, I squeeze. Before the first drop falls, fingers close around my wrist—Sable’s fingers. Did I do something wrong?
Her voice is loud enough for the entire circle to hear. “Wait. Frankie, stop.”
Everything freezes. What’s happening?
She rises halfway, still holding my wrist. Her smile is soft, almost apologetic. “I know this was my idea. I just wanted her to feel welcome, and I thought it’d make Z happy.” Her eyes glisten with remorse. “But I should never have suggested this.”
What is she talking about? What’s wrong?
A few females murmur to one another as she lifts our joined hands, careful not to spill the cup. Her forked tongue slips against her teeth as she goes on. “We should think before we drink this. We all know what she is, right?”
Oh God! She seemed so nice. Why is she doing this?
The red-skinned female turns to Anatha. “What is she talking about?”
Someone else says, “What is she?”
Anatha steps forward, her expression firm. “Not now, Sable.”
She widens her eyes, all innocence. “I regret making a scene, Anatha, but they have a right to know.” She looks around the circle. “She’s the Realm Eater.”
My eyes close. I should’ve seen this coming. The cup falls when I yank my wrist away. Blood splashes across the ground as frightened gasps and whispers fill the tent. A female on the far side pulls her child behind her. “The Realm Eater?”
