Page 203 of Psycho Devils: Aran's Story 2

Pushing my pipe between my lips, I kept my eyes downcast and inhaled with all my might.

Smoke filled my lungs.

The drugs took effect.

I stopped caring.

A man spoke loudly to my right. “Ms. Gola confirmed in class that a storm is coming. She said this one is going to be a bad one.”

“Oh crap,” someone responded. “That’s not good.”

“Weather is a pseudo-science,” I mumbled under my breath.

The man glared at me.

I sighed.

Sure the air was chillier and the cloud cover darker, but there wasn’t that much of a change. For some reason, the weather was all anyone ever wanted to talk about. The rumor mill was convinced that something big was coming.

I hoped it killed us all. Violently.

It would be sensational.

Thrilling.

Pulling my hoodie up over my head, I tied the knots around my chin so I looked like a gnome. I lowered my shoulders while I rubbed at my arms to get warm.

Lately it felt like I was constantly cold.

Nothing I did alleviated the chill that had settled into my bones. Maybe it was because I was an ice fae? I was probably haunted.

In the dining hall, Sadie frowned when she saw me.

I shrugged back at her.

Blood gurgled out of the mangled face of the man who was still crucified to the sacred tree. Sari sat at the royal table, glaring at me as she clutched a steak knife. Students openly gawked at me.

Ever have an impact on people around you? Same.

I collapsed tiredly into my seat.

Blinked.

A pig’s head was the centerpiece of the table, and its body was spread out on various plates. The mouth was gaping and stuffed full of vegetables, and its dead eyes were wide open.

They looked directly at me.

I stared back.

Until it was my head on the plate and vegetables overflowed from my mouth. My limbs were scattered in pieces. Men leered at me and dug into my flesh, smacking their lips as they gnawed on my—

Fingers snapped in front of my face.

“Eat,” Luka ordered.

I slowly turned toward the man who had ignored my many attempts to converse for the last forty-eight hours.

He pointed at my empty plate.

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