Of the Blood | ✔️

Seventeen

I let out a breath and shake my head. "I don't know. If Mrs. Lloyd finds out, she'll demand we—" My voice trails off, but I don't need to finish. Thomas understands. "But we can't just leave that girl there. She's wasting away—I could see the veins beneath her skin. And all that blood..."

My eyes close as I struggle with what to do. We need to help her. If we don't, she'll die...if she hasn't already. Unless she's—

A shiver moves through me as I push the thought from my brain. Victor's ridiculous accusations are trying to get the best of me, but I'm not going to let them. Someone in this town needs to keep a level head. But who knew uncovering evidence would only make things more complicated?

Wind screams in my ears and I dip my chin inside my coat. "Who is she, and why is she there?"

Thomas shrugs. When he finally looks back at me, he shakes his head. "I honestly don't know."

But I can't let it go. I need Thomas to believe me. "I'm not making assumptions; Mr. Baptiste is involved. Please tell me you see that now."

He bites the inside of his cheek as if mulling over the question. "After what we just saw, it does seem like more than a coincidence."

A wave of relief crashes into me, nearly knocking me off my feet. I have no idea what to do next, but as long as Thomas is on my side, the outlook doesn't feel as bleak.

Up ahead, people are in the streets. Their voices carry as they hurry back and forth, but I can't make out what they're saying. Although, the closer we get, the more I sense something's wrong.

"They have torches!" Victor shouts at us from over his shoulder. Before I comprehend what he's said, he and Honor tear off towards the commotion.

My stomach tightens as we watch them disappear into the crowd. Some of the men carry rod-like pieces of wood, the ends ablaze with flames. Smoke and sulfur smolder in the air.

I don't like the looks of this. "Why would they need torches?"

"Let's find out." Thomas tightens his arm around my waist and a ribbon of heat coils in the center of my chest. I lean into him, using his body as an anchor to keep from falling over. By the time we make it onto Main Street, the townspeople are in a full-blown panic.

A woman rushes past us with a bundle of sticks in her arms. "What's happening?" I ask, trying to stop her.

"There's been another death."

My mouth falls open. "Who?" But she doesn't slow her pace. She weaves around a family of five, nearly knocking a toddler to the ground, until she's out of earshot.

Desperation clenches my chest. I untangle myself from Thomas' grasp and grab the sleeve of someone else. The man's eyes are wide, unfocused, and he's panting like a dog. "Please, sir. Can you tell us what's going on?"

He gapes at me in horror. With brute force, he yanks his arm away. When his strides widen into a sprint, one of his shoes slips out from underneath him and sticks in a rut of snow. He leaves it behind as he races down the road.

A shudder tears through my body. With mounting panic, I whip around to face Thomas. He knows what I'm thinking before I can even say it. "We'll find him," he says, returning his arm to my waist.

All I can do is nod.

As we round the corner of the church, what looks like the entire town clusters together in the cemetery. They're scurrying about like ants after someone's stepped on their colony. In the center of the chaos, women toss brush and branches into a fire raging among the snow-covered tombstones. Long orange flames lick at the bruise-colored sky.