The Immortal Circus: Act Two (8 page)

I open my eyes at the pale blue sky. It’s still early.
Wicked early. I should go.

I lean my head to the side to find the trailers. I don’t.

Instead, I see Sara.

She’s lying beside me in the grass, inches away. Her eyes
are open and staring straight at me, which makes me do a small jump.

“Morning, creeper,” I say. My voice is thick. I hope I don’t
have morning breath.

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t blink. Something about her
looks familiar—the brown curls, the tilt of her head. It reminds me of someone
I should know…

The screaming in the back of my mind is getting louder, now.
The haze of waking is slipping aside.

I push myself to sitting. My hands squelch in the mud.

But it’s not mud. It’s blood. A lot of blood.

I yelp, and my heart races. I skitter backward.

Sara’s lying in a pool of blood. Three long daggers stick
out from her heart: the throwing knives she’s been practicing with. Their
handles are stained red.

I look down at my arms. They’re covered in scratches, purple
welts. And I know they weren’t there before. I look back at Sara, and I’m
already stammering. The blood. The blood everywhere: on my hands, on my body,
on the ground, on her chest.

I’m shaking. Shaking. But there’s no light, no power, no
flood. Memory crashes, and suddenly I remember her kneeling beside me in the
night.
“Are you okay? I thought I heard someone crying. What are you doing
out here?”

And I remember how her throat felt between my hands. I
remember how the blades felt slipping beneath her skin. I stare at my hands,
shaking, shaking.

They’re red.

And I remember. I remember how her blood tasted. Like
chocolate. Like ecstasy. It’s how all their blood tasted.

Sabina and Roman and Sara … their blood tasted like bliss.

To be continued in the next episode. Your book will be automatically updated with Episode Three and you can continue reading from this page.

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