Page 258 of Sinister

Her eyes are dead, empty. She’s just a vessel for violence.

Sin smiles. “I’ve always loved a good challenge.”

He urges me to get back while he takes off his coat, folding it and placing it in my arms. “Take care of this for me. It’s a rather rare model,” he adds with a wink.

A wink?

I stare in shock at him. Does he think this is a game?

“Sin . . .”

“Ah, I see now who you are,” Snowden laughs. “That odd one, what was your name? Kimar something.” He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Bad energy, both of you.”

Sin chuckles. “As if you could recognize any type of energy.”

Snowden reddens in anger; it seems this is a sore spot.

“I will deal with you later. But first . . .” He gives Sin a harsh look before turning to Leah and Arnoult. He casually checks his pocket watch and . . . waits?

I frown. The others seem just as confused about what’s going on.

It’s not until . . .

“S-Sinclair,” Leah speaks in a low, trembling voice. “S-something is w-w-wrong.”

“What? What are you talking about?” he asks, his voice full of concern.

Snowden, meanwhile, continues to smirk as he watches the unfolding scene.

“I—” Leah starts, but on the next breath, she starts coughing blood. She wraps her arms around her abdomen as she continues to throw up a brownish-red liquid.

“What did you do?” Arnoult demands. He’s holding tightly onto Leah, but even in the dim lighting coming from a faraway streetlight, I can see the paleness of her pallor.

“No blood of mine will mingle with yours,” Snowden spits out, malice dripping from his words.

“You . . . You . . . No . . .” Arnoult mutters, now utterly panicked as he crouches next to Leah on the grass. She can no longer speak. Every breath is labored and accompanied by bouts of bloody cough.

“You poisoned your own daughter?” I ask in shock.

Snowden shrugs. “She brought this onto herself for dallying with that devil. Now, she will suffer the consequences. And you—” he glances at Arnoult— “you will suffer all the same knowing it’s because of you that she died.”

“Leah, please,” Arnoult tries to get her to react, but it’s too late.

Her entire body has gone slack, her eyes empty.

I press my hand to my mouth in shock. She falls against Arnoult’s chest like a lifeless doll. She’s dead. Her own father killed her.

“Now that that’s out of the way, I believe you and I have some unfinished business, Arnoult,” Snowden adds nonchalantly.

71

PETRA

Arnoult is still for moments on end, cradling Leah’s head, tears streaming down his cheeks. A loud, earth-shattering wail erupts from him before he carefully lays her down and directs his attention toward Snowden.

“How could you? She was your daughter!” he snarls in anguish.

“And she went and got pregnant with your child. I daresay she is just a casualty. The real target was your unborn child,” Snowden scoffs.