Page 4 of Sacrifice

There was only one explanation. She must have regretted sending me to the hunting grounds, because she had feelings for me. Real feelings. Not just some Stockholm syndrome shit where she only felt attached while I was her captor. No, even when she knew she could be completely free of me, she’d chosen to hang back and wait for me anyway, sitting alone in that cell until she knew for sure I was alive and safe.

That begged the question: why had she chosen to leavenow?

Fuck.The ‘why’ didn’t even matter right now. All that really mattered right now were these two things—firstly, that I returned her feelings, and secondly, that she was in terrible danger now.

The Covenant planned to sacrifice her at the blood moon in—

I checked the date on the bottom of the computer screen. Four days. They planned to take her to the Red Rocks and slit her throat on the altar in four fucking days, all in the name of their god.

“Shit!”

I abruptly rose to my feet as a fiery mix of rage and determination flared up inside me. The only way the Covenant might decide tonotsacrifice Rose at the Red Rocks was if she told them the truth about what had happened to her while she was gone; that she was no longer a pure virgin by their fucked-up standards. But if she did that, they’d probably want to punish her for the terrible sin, and I had a good idea of what punishment might entail.

Either way, she was going to die at their hands… but not if I had anything to do with it.

3

Rose

As dusk settled into night,two men came for me. They gave me a white ritual gown and told me to change into it, and then they escorted me out of the cell and through the cathedral.

When we were outside, the men wordlessly turned me onto a new path, leading out of the village. With each step, I felt as if I were drawing closer and closer to my own death, but I kept my chin up and my jaw set, swallowing my fear as we walked along the torch-lined trail that led to the main ritual clearing.

At the clearing, we were greeted with an unsettling yet awe-inspiring sight. The entire village had turned out to watch my Confession, gathered around a massive bonfire. Its flames roared and crackled, sending sparks spiraling into the night sky, and the heat was so intense that it warmed my face even from a distance.

In front of the bonfire was the ritual altar, adorned with Covenant symbols and hanging charms. The ritual tools were laid out carefully on one side of it: a silver chalice, a pot of freshly boiled water, and a large ceremonial dagger.

The elders stood behind the altar, their presence commanding respect and a touch of fear from the regularCovenant members. My father stood off to the side with a grim expression, unable to take his usual place in the proceedings. His close relation to me could be seen as a conflict of interest, so Jean-Pierre Leclerc had been granted the right to perform the Confession in his stead.

The burly men flanking me pushed a path through the excited crowd and led me up to the altar, upon which Jean-Pierre stepped forward to place a hand on my shoulder. A horn sounded to mark the beginning of the Confession, and the murmuring crowd fell into a solemn silence.

I kept my head held high and my vision fixed on the trees in the distance, refusing to meet the judgmental gazes of the villagers. If I was going to be caught in my lies tonight, I would not give any of them the satisfaction of seeing the guilt and fear flashing in my eyes.

Jean-Pierre called out an ancient incantation, lifting one hand to the sky. Then he fixed his steely eyes on me for a moment before turning to face the crowd once more.

“Tonight, we are gathered to witness Rosamund Trudeau’s confession before the Entity, our Eternal Master. If she speaks the truth, he will grant her mercy.” He squeezed my shoulder and went on. “First, she will imbibe a chalice of truth tea to loosen her tongue. Gilbert, if you will…”

One of the other elders stepped forward to pour some of the boiled water from the altar into the chalice. After it was full, he picked it up and held it toward me. “Drink,” he muttered.

I followed his command, tipping my head back to swallow the entire contents of the chalice. The bitter-tasting tea was made from a combination of dried moonshade and whisperwort plants, gathered from the surrounding woods. The combination had long been known to induce the truth from those who drank it, but there were ways around it.

For example, if you knew the truth would get you into trouble, you could simply tell a carefully worded version of the story that made you seem pure and innocent… but you had to be very careful. Only those with serious mental fortitude and a silver tongue could get away with it.

Luckily, I’d done it before, so I was fairly certain I could do it again.

My eyelids soon felt heavy, and a sense of calm began to wash over me, as if I were being lulled to sleep by a soft melody. Beneath the tranquil surface, a compulsion was stirring in me, urging me to open my mouth and spill any secrets that might stop me from falling into a peaceful slumber.

“Rosamund Trudeau, I urge you to tell us where you have been in recent weeks,” Jean-Pierre said, squeezing my shoulder to snap my attention back to him. “We must also know if you are still pure.”

I took a deep breath and raised my head again. “The night I was taken, I could not sleep,” I began, speaking loudly and clearly. “I went for a walk in the woods, as I often do when I have trouble sleeping.”

That was true. I was known for taking long walks when I was unable to sleep. It had always annoyed my father.

“As I walked, I came across a strange place where the ground suddenly opened up before me.”

Also true, technically speaking. I was talking about the tunnel, but I hoped they would interpret my carefully chosen words as some sort of gaping chasm or cave in the wilderness, as our founders had experienced centuries ago when they discovered the cave where the Darkness lurked.

“I felt compelled to step inside, drawn by an unseen force.”

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