Shock and embarrassment hollowed me out. They had flown under my radar since the beginning. Going unnoticed as simple students when the truth was written in the darkness, and I’d blatantly ignored it all so I wouldn’t be lonely.
A sob rattled out of me, giving me away.
Timothy’s head whipped toward me, and his pupils blew wide with predatory delight. His cold, vicious grin split his face, and the firelight distorted his features into something sinister. He stepped out of the circle, approaching me with measured intent. The chanting silenced on an eerie note, leaving the cavern in unholy silence.
I squirmed, failing to move in an inch as instinct begged me to flee. The rope was too tight, and escape felt hopeless. Luther still hadn’t moved or indicated any sign of life. Shuffling on the rough ground, I ignored the jab and pinch of rocks and rubble as I twisted away. Numbness settled over me, and I went as still as prey coming to terms with death in the jaws of a monster when Timothy came to a stop beside me.
He kneeled on the rough ground, and I gulped down the whimper threatening to escape. Then his hand reached over, fingers running through the wild, tangled strands of my hair. My entire body went still, and panic prickled in my blood. Then he jerked my hair, exerting enough power to yank my head up and elicit a sharp yell from me.
“Hello, Blondie,” he smirked, and it made my insides queasy. He tipped his head as another approached, speaking to them. “It feels good to finally be here after all the waiting we’ve endured. Doesn’t it?”
I swallowed, excruciatingly aware of the pain on my scalp as Jeniffer came to stand behind him. They shared a meaningful glance.
“All those nights enduring this insufferable bitch, you mean?” she snickered, and the sound was a slap to the face.
Timothy turned his gleaming yellow eyes back to me, snatching his hand from my hair as if I burned him. His lips peeled away from his teeth, displaying a predatory grin. “Oh, she wasn’t all that bad. We had fun, Blondie. Don’t you think so?”
He dropped his hand to skim a finger across my brow, brushing damp hair from my temple. The touch rattled me and set my teeth on edge.
My courage faltered, but words bubbled up in a last-ditch plea. “You… you don’t need to do this. I don’t want any part of this. Please… please, let me go. We can forget all this—”
“Forget all this?” Jeniffer spat. Her eyes gleamed like candlelight. “The Ashcrofts are traitors and—”
Timothy’s arm shot out, effectively cutting her off.
In the split second of silence I sputtered, “You know I’m only here for school. I don’t have anything to do with my family history!”
He tsked, shaking his head as if disappointed in me. His shoulders sagged, and he moved closer, towering over me and casting me in the darkness of his shadow. A shiver ripped down my spine.
“The Ashcrofts were a founding family, Ophelia. Therein, your blood belongs to Kilbride and always has. More importantly, your blood belongs to Moloch. Your grandfather wronged us, betrayed his master, and doomed your family by breaking the bond his ancestors forged with our god.” Timothy stood, wearing the mask of someone not half as upset as he wanted to seem. The glowing triumph in his eyes burned brighter than his feigned remorse. “There must be retribution for the wrongs committed against Him. And with your family’s atonement comes His rebirth.”
“N-no, please, no, no, no. Don’t do this. Let us go!”
“Us?” Jeniffer hissed, and her gaze cut to Luther’s limp form. She tilted her head and studied the history professor withowlishly round eyes. Then she barked a mocking laugh. “Begging for your own life is one thing, but sobbing for the bastard who hunts Moloch’s most devoted? You’re pathetic, you—”
“Niffy…” Timothy drawled her name with a warning threaded in.
She bristled in return, gesturing at the unconscious man on the ground. “How many of our kind has he slaughtered over the years, especially in recent weeks since she arrived? You know as well as I do that he killed Talon!”
Her foot jerked out, connecting with his stomach.
The blunt sound of impact and his drawn-out groan muffled my gasp.
Luther didn’t move, and in the darkness, I would have sworn he wasn’t even breathing. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, and a sob built in my chest. I tried to speak, but the words lodged in my throat. Adrenaline and fear mixed into a treacherous fog that delayed my reactions.
“Save your tears,” Timothy crooned, wiping a thumb across my cheek. He studied the wetness before rubbing his fingers together. He stood to his full height, staring down at me with nothing short of firm resolve in his eyes. “Tonight, you will be the ultimate sacrifice. The blood of a traitor as recompense, and a death to pay for a life. Tonight, the gate opens, and our master comes.”
A visceral sob wrenched from my chest as Timothy turned on his heel and strode toward the circle of watchers. Jeniffer curled her lip and hissed at me before spitting at the ground near Luther. Then she flounced away to rejoin the other apostles.
Most of my life I’d fixated on history and how one incident could alter the tide of the future. Reading history books had been a safe harbor in a world of treacherous fantasies. Yet there I was, bound, pitiful, hollow, and destined to become a cataclysm I would have once luxuriated in reading about. A helpless sacrificedoomed to be the key in a world-altering event that would welcome suffering and endless agony.
Because this would alter not just Kilbride and its citizens but the whole world. For the worst. A horrible, infernal god of demons and monsters stepping foot onto our plane of reality and granting his apostles immense, terrible power… the impending devastation was unfathomable. And my blood, my final breath, would unlock the door holding Him back.
A pawn. A fool. I would die, leaving behind a footnote in the annals of history as a traitor’s descendant righting the wrong of his broken vow.
My heart hammered, and acrid tears blurred my vision. The weight of impotence settled on me like a boulder of failure, crushing my skin and bones, leaving me as a pathetic heap on the chilly cavern ground.
The apostles renewed their chanting, reciting an ancient language, with their hands weaving around them. Air crackled, and the fire sparked.
