Page 66 of Priest and his Anarchist

Illuminated in the darkness of the night, the castle brightens from below. My blood turns to ice when manicured gardens and lawns become replaced by overgrown moss and weeds as if nature is trying to work against fate.

What is happening?

Words swirl in my head as my bare foot lands on the first tile.

We need this favor, but it’s not one that you’re going to be able to be repaid for, Luna.This is something that we will forever owe.

How long has it been since that night?

Turning to the castle as if it’ll give me the answers I’d usually ask the Fathers, I’m again distracted by the neglect. Frequently illuminating a soft hue of baby pink, shadows have crawled over the structure as if darkness itself has swallowed it.

Have I lost track of time?

Squeezing my eyes closed, I think over last night.

The hit.

Priest.

I left with River to come to—to a party? Town?

“Run, Madness.”

I stepped back. “I don’t want to do this tonight!”

Priest glared. “Tell me the part where you have a choice.”

The world around me blurs. I need to find answers. Following the checkered path into the maze, I ignore how the wind whistles around my ankles, curling up my thighs.

My fingernails dig into the base of my palms the closer I draw to the entrance. Thick shrubs surround a sizeable concrete arch that curves above my head. Two gargoyles glare down from atop beside angels blowing trumpets toward each other.

Angels. Right. Someone messed that up big time.

Maybe it was the angle I was looking from, maybe the castle isn’t dead. I know what I have to do.

Fall.

The caw of a crow flying over my head makes me shiver, sticky with sweat and mud. The shadows of its wings flap up in the sky overhead, passing the glowing full moon.

Two shadows tower over me when I lower my head, with faces covered in a ray of glistening diamonds lined into skulls. Fear prickles through me as I jump backward.

“Hello, Madness…” Like a blood clot forming in my belly, bile rises up my throat. His half is a sheen of black, with fangs as teeth and barbed wire caging in one eye. Black diamonds formaround the edges, a shadow of opulence because his main goal is death.

I know who he is. I don’t need to be this way with him because if he wanted me dead, he’s had more chances than anyone to do it and hasn’t.

“What is happening?” The words are barely a whisper when they leave my parched throat.

“Tsk, tsk…” He wags his finger, the rest of his face covered by the dark rim of his hoodie. “You don’t ask questions yet.”

A piercing scream of death cuts through the forest, and a new wave of fear prickles over me as I flex my fingers in my fist. “I don’t remember this being part of the Hunt, Rabbit…”

He doesn’t move, and Vaden shifts behind him a little.

“Because this isn’t a hunt.” The wind carries his voice the same way a rotten corpse does death. “This is a race, and you—” His finger curls around the stray pieces of hair that frame my face. “Look lost.”

Confusion weighs me down. I hate that the wall I’ve trained myself to keep up crumbles anytime he’s nearby. As if I can trust a single word he says. “I can’t remember anything. What happened after the Hunt last night? How much time has passed?”

Neither answer, but Priest steps forward, and I’m reminded of how big this man is. He’s a giant, but I’m not talking about his six foot-five inches or three-hundred-and-something pounds of muscle. Priest's size is the second thing you’ll notice because the shadows that move around him in a haze of darkness are the first.

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