Page 29 of Bloodmoon Ritual

I flew at him, even though my brother had never once listened to me before when he was convinced what he was doing was right.

I dug my florescent nails into his leather-clad arm, ripping desperately at him.

But Rhyder flicked the light and held it to the book, the bright orange flames illuminating his face in the dim lighting of the apartment. His eyes were bright as he looked at me, shining with the gleam of his insane obsession and religious zeal.

“No,please,” I cried, moving away from him, trying to take my books off the shelf as my apartment became rapidly engulfed in flames, the wisps and tendrils filling my small bedroom with my laptop, the bathroom with my seashell shower curtain, blocking my view of the window where I’d sit and read and wonder if I was truly free.

Well, now I had my answer.

I wasn’t free.

Not in this life or the next.

“Temperance, stay back!” Rhyder growled harshly, as I grabbedThe Wind in the Willows, its spine on fire, the words bright-white for a moment, then crumbling into ash.

“it was my favorite,” I cried on a sob, the words on the spine seared into my memory.

He grabbed it from me as the flames burned my fingers, throwing the book in a corner of burning rubble, the flames pulling my curtains down in a shower of sparks.

Of course, nothing I did could touch him, but I still resisted leaving, clutching my kitchen table even as my entire apartment fell in ribbons of angry orange flame around me, the smell of pages crackling in the heat making my stomach roil with nausea.

“Please, just let me take one thing,” I begged.

“There is only me,” my brother said harshly, holding his hand out for mine. “I am here to love and save your soul from the Gray Place.”

“Stop, Rhyder!” I screamed. “You can’t save my soul! I’m wicked, I’m depraved, I’m tainted! Can’t you see?”

His brows drew together angrily, and he stalked over to me. I gripped the kitchen counter tighter, trying desperately to hang on, even as the cabinets crumbled around me in heavy splintering crashes.

But Rhyder plucked me up easily, throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me outside as the remains of my life collapsed and burned around us.

The smell of burning books was sharp in my nostrils.

As he carried me out, my ears filled with the high-pitched, urgent whine of the fire alarm and screams, I knew.

In the rubble of my life, there would always and ever be only Rhyder.

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