Page 69 of Anorthic Anarchy

But what is love? Is it the feeling I have for him whenever he’s near me? Fluttering in my belly, yearning for him to enter me?

No.

It’s the action involved.

Love is a choice.

And I can’t love him. I cannot. If I do, then what does that make me?

I think I’m just like him.

“Astrid Lynx, daughter of Barrington.” One of the owls approaches the center of the room as I stand awkwardly, trying not to fall over. My knees shake as my thighs almost give out on me, but the man who carried me grips my shoulder and forces me to stand.

“Yeah, that’s me. But, actually, it’sStraussnow.” A collective gasp flows through the room. If only I had machetes…

“Stand before your masters.” The sound of her voice is tinny behind the mask she wears.

My collar itches my neck, the constant reminder of my connection to my husband. “I only have one master.”

A tall man smoking a cigar steps forward. He’s one of the few men in a mask. It looks like it’s made of a flat black metal and covers the upper half of his face, leaving his lips free to puff repeatedly on the tip of his stogie.

“Prepare the table.” He tosses his voice to the bigger men behind me, and two carry forward some white chair apparatus with straps. It seems like a medical contraption to hold medown. Another man grabs a very long syringe and my belly twinges.

They’re going to try to take Bert from me. Is it a fake? I thought they couldn’t spill my blood. Were we wrong?

“Wait. Stop.”

The man holds his cigar away from his face as his masked eyes glance at me with indifference. “Yes? Will you take the pill to eradicate the demon within you? Or shall we do this another way?”

Hot fingers grip the skin of my shoulder, and I twitch at the intrusion, but the man who carried me only opens his palm in front of my face, showcasing a blue pill.

Chloe. Lydia, Nari, Yasmina…all of those backbiters. Gossips. Complainers. Despite entering a world where I was unwanted, their lies could not defeat me. What they want most is my blood, but they also want one other thing…

“I’ll do neither. Instead, I will leave here and return to House Strauss.”

A few of the men chuckle as the owl masks bob like I’m their latest hired entertainment.

Cutting through the raucous laughter, I clear my throat and swallow with the very dry spit in my mouth. Projecting my voice, I command my audience. “I don’t think you understand me.Iam Astrid Lynx Barrington. And I will return with Vladimir Vincente Strauss the third and lay him at your feet. Would you like him dead or alive?”

Quietness blankets the space for a long minute before one of the owl women steps forward. Her mask is different and some of her black hair falls forward over her cape. “What makes you think we’re letting you go? We could just wait until the appropriate time and then impregnate you with the Johns’ baby on this very medical table. All fifty of them here.”

As I falter with dizziness, the man beside me clutches me tighter with a grunt of frustration, and I collapse into his chest. Throwing my arms around his waist, I grab his gun and slip back from him.

The crowd retreats, some pulling out their own guns, but I hold it to my head dramatically. “Because I will kill myself right here or before then if youdon’tlet me go. You see, I figured it out. My brother didn’t workfor you. He paid a sacrifice for all of us. And I’m his blood. I have no issues doing the same. Then your precious snake venom will be gone forever.” My brother died a hero. But I want to live. However, if it takes my sacrifice to save the city, then so be it.

“Stop. Don’t. Put that down now.” The man with the mask waves his hand at me.

I don’t obey.

The owl speaks again, this time slowly and calmly, as if her words can make me not pull the trigger. “We want him alive, but bound. Not here, though, kneeling in front of us during the Winter Solstice. At the altar of the Crimson Angel. You should also come with him for your ritual. If you do not, then we will come for both of you. And House Strauss’s bombs will not deter us this time. Not with the number of forces we will bring on that day.”

As I thought…they can’t take our blood until their gods say so. Perhaps they’ve planned to move right in on the House the day of Winter Solstice all along.

She pauses and asks again, “So will you bring the bull with you to the altar on that day?”

Shifting my hips, I give them all a sly grin while pressing the barrel to my temple.

“Consider it done.”

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