He ducks offstage through a black velvet curtain. His flaming black lion goes with him. As soon as he’s gone, I hop up, weaving through the frozen crowd, and run after him.
I have no clue what I’ll do when I catch him, but I got to do something. I burst through the curtain and into a hallway embossed with a black rose design. My feet hit the dark hardwood floor, but I don’t see Malcolm anywhere. I flinch when I notice that the roses on the wall drip blood from their petals. Real blood. It falls like raindrops, and my heels slap into it as I race down the hall.
My steps skid over the floor, every now and then making a splashing sound when my shoes hit a puddle of red. I hear something move behind me. And then roar.
I look back over my shoulder. A shadow moves in the distance, low on all fours. It wasn’t there before. Fear claws at my throat and fills my mouth. I regret leaving my seat.
The black lion turns slowly. The flames outlining its body flicker like candles on a birthday cake—for a party in hell.
My heart kicks the back of my rib cage. The lion’s head rises to sniff loudly. I freeze, spine tight against the wall of bleeding roses. Feeling their gooey wetness on the back of my red gown.
I put my palm up, ready to try to use my power.
The lion’s eyes glow as it inches closer to me. Sweat beads on my back, and goose bumps rise on my arms with a rush that makes me gasp.
The lion turns its fiery body. Its glowing eyes sear into me as its furry bulk pivots.
I wedge myself even tighter against the wall, and my back jams into something. A doorknob. I turn the knob, rush inside, and slam and lockthe door. There’s no way out. The room is small, painted black with gold runes. Shadows hang in the corners, as dark and eerie as death. The shelves on one side are lined with jars of herbs, potions, and dead frogs floating in murky gray fluid. And on the other…
The shelves are filled with bamboo cages full of ravens. Inside, the birds flutter shiny black wings. I shudder at the sight of them. I frantically look around for a weapon but see only nubs of candles, old animal skulls, snakeskin, and a piece of bone on a small table by the door. Beside the table are small drums made from dried hides. I look closer. The skulls appear to be stained with blood. Did they cast some type of spell in here?
I grab the bone and a drum and hold them close to me, though I have no clue how I can use them in my defense. Would the bone distract the lion so I can hit it with a drum? Do lions even like bones?
The door panel shakes, and I back away, moving toward the ravens and putting space between myself and the lion on the other side of the thin door.
A loud crack echoes, and the door splinters open in a storm of wood, smoke, and snarls. The lion snaps at me, half in and half out of the narrow, charring frame. Saliva drips from its snarling mouth, turning to steam when it meets the fire that outlines the lion’s body. The beast chews at the door around it.
The lion is covered with black fur, tipped in red flame. Fire rolls in its gaze. It stares at me like a predator looking at lunch.
“Stop!” a voice yells.
The lion inches backward, its fiery eyes still fixed on me, lips rolled back to reveal its yellow fangs. It lowers its head, clearly pissed off at my intrusion into its territory.
I look up and see the source of the voice. Malcolm Davenport, still shirtless. He enters the room and leans against the table, looking relaxed and dripping motorcycle grease. My pulse races—and not just from almost being eaten by that lion.
His hair is cut in low waves, and a tattoo with the wordsONLY GOD CAN JUDGE MEruns across his muscular forearm. A crooked smile slinks across his lips. And even though I’m impressed with his strong presence and abilityto control this wild animal, I want to punch him in his face. Decorate his perfect lips with blood.
I’m overcome by the dark urge to crack his neck. I step back, surprised. Is this the bloodlust? I look away, panting until the curse tugs at me a little less. I fight off violent impulses and get myself together because I need him to undo whatever he’s done to Demetri and the crowd.
The lion has taken a seat nearby on the floor, rubbing its massive head on the leg of Malcolm’s dark jeans.
Malcolm looks at me.
And my heart drops, but I suppress it, wondering if he is affected by the violent pull of the curse too.
I look away from him and focus on the blazing animal that is scorching the floor where it sits by Malcolm’s boots. It twitches a sparking black tail, still eyeing me like lunch.
His head cocks to the side. “Are you…”
“Yes, I’m Emma Baldwin.”
CHAPTER SEVENMalcolm DavenportPHILADELPHIA, 2024
I got Tethered yesterday, and now I have Emma Baldwin in front of me for the first time. She’s wearing the same shiny red dress she wore in my vision, but now she looks furious. She’s more beautiful than any picture. Her leg has threads woven in and out of her flesh in a gold ankle band. Big-Mama was right. Emma’s Tethered, too.
Shit. She’s my competitor.
I should scare her off so nobody gets hurt. “What are you doing here, Emma?”
