Page 59 of The Blood we Crave

“I won’t say anything, Thatch. I-I wouldn’t put you at risk like that. If I did, it would get me in trouble too. You don’t need to make me do this.” Her voice shakes and wobbles.

“That’s sweet. Really, it is. But I don’t trust you. I will not risk my freedom with only your word. I have a lot to lose in this deal we have, Lyra. Now, so will you.”

“Thatcher—”

“No one else can know about these things I do. What I show you. If anyone finds out, I will know it’s you. This is not a game. If you open that mouth of yours, I will remove each of those white teeth in your skull before I snap your pretty little neck and toss you into the hole you dug.” I don’t move my eyes from her face, needing her to know just how serious I am about this.

How very easy it would be for me to end her existence on this earth.

I grab the shovel from the ground, gripping the handle.

“This is ridiculous. I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me. Not once,” she argues, and her lack of compliance is starting to irritate me.

My jaw clenches. “My father took me here once. I was six, and he made me dig a grave, just like you are, but we put my mother inside of it instead. I don’t remember complaining this much about it.”

Shock lights up her eyes, horror at what that must have done to a young child. And it makes me sick. I don’t need her sympathy or her concern. I don’t care about what happened in my past, or anything for that matter, so her wasted emotion on me is annoying.

“That was how I proved to him what I was. What I am. You’re going to dig this grave and earn the knowledge you’re demanding of me. If you don’t—” I pull out a blade from the other pocket, twirling it in my hand. “—we can end this deal now. It makes no difference to me.”

Her bottom lip wobbles, eyes glossed over with what looks like tears. I want so badly for it to be fear causing this, but I know it’s not.

Shefeelsbad for me.

What a waste.

“How old were you?” she offers, ignoring everything I just said. “Were you even big enough to use a shovel?”

“No.” I cringe, remembering all the dirt that I had to scrub out from beneath my fingers. How caked it was in my nails and how it covered my skin.“He made me use my hands. Be glad I’m letting you use the shovel.”

I shove the object into her hands. “Now, do what you do best, Lyra. Play in the dirt. I won’t ask again.”

red roses, red roses

TWELVE

lyra

“So, what is the most important question in organic chemistry?”

I stop rotating the ring on my pointer finger. The question hangs in the air, with awkward silence following. It’s a simple answer, one that most students should know if they’d pay attention during the lecture.

The sad thing is they probably know the answer. They are just either hungover or too tired from working themselves back into a school schedule.

And no one likes a seven in the morning class.

No one, not even me, and I love class.

“How the fuck do we drop it?”

A chorus of snickers and giggles vibrates the room. It even makes a small smile tug at the corner of my lips as I look towards our professor at the front of the room, waiting for his rebuttal.

Conner laughs freely, unlike any other teacher here that would have instantly reprimanded the jokester who made that comment. He’s easily everyone’s favorite here, laid-back, and always ready to help in any way he can.

“Fortunately for you, Jacob, you probably won’t even use this after graduation. Just pass with a C, and ahead of you will be years of selling cars at your father’s dealership.”

The room erupts in laughter and whispers, ahs and ohs.

I can’t see it from my seat in the back, but I imagine Jacob’s face is the color of a fire hydrant, and I doubt he’ll be making any more snarky comments in class.

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