Page 102 of A Bond in Blood

A thump from the music several stories above us rattled the walls of the circular room and Ulrich smiled.

“All done.”

“I am not,” I protested.

Ulrich leaned down, ripping my easel from my hands. “I said you’re done.”

He walked away, my supplies bumping against his back and I glared. My head turned back to the hallway he’d still refused to show me, and then I stood.

“I need entertainment tonight,” Ulrich called over his shoulder. “You’re to join my side.”

“I’d rather not,” I yelled and he whipped around, his eyes wide when he found me at the threshold of the ninth hallway.

“Brenna,” he warned.

“Ulrich,” I challenged.

“Do not—”

I didn’t let him finish his warning before I’d turned my body and ran down the hall. The candles around me went frombrilliant warm light to an unsettling red the further I ran. Like an omen, warning me to turn back.

Only I refused to heed the warning, and I continued down my path, rounding the corner while the hallway became more narrow.

My body slammed into the wall and Ulrich’s hair brushed against my neck.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

I struggled against his hold on my arms that pinned me to the wall. “I just want answers!”

“Not here,” he snapped.

I stared into his masked eyes, my chest heaving with my breaths. “Why?”

“Brenna, enough.”

His hands released me while he walked away. I stared at him, insulted he believed I would follow him back so willingly.

A pull from the darker end of the hall wrapped around my body. It was quiet. A whisper. A warning.

I ran to it again, ignoring his shout of irritation.

His cold bit at my heels but he did not grasp for me. As though he were allowing me to see a glimpse of the mystery.

The candles went bright red when my running stopped, and I stood before a wooden door the color of blood. My fingers trailed the wood, tracing the grotesque carving on its surface.

It was a face, and based on the carved lines of hair, I assumed it was a woman. Only half of this face was carved in, while the other half appeared skeletal—corpse-like. And tears fell from the corpse side, dark red of the wood carved to mimic lament.

Ulrich’s cold was wrapping around me, and I turned to face him.

“What is this?”

He was utterly silent with his shadows crawling around his body like a blanket of protection.

“Get upstairs,” he muttered.

I didn’t protest when his hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling me away from the door. My feet stumbled while I kept my gaze on the entrance with the strange carving. Wondering what it was. What it meant.

Why Ulrich appeared terrified of it.

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