Page 82 of The Sins of Silas

One thing I hadn’t done, that I needed to do, was speak with Roland. So, when I awoke the last time, I made my way to him.

I found him where I expected him to be: at Lena’s bedside. She was still sleeping soundly as I entered the room, her copper waves spilling down her chest. Her skin was back to its beautiful porcelain; the only redness was the slight flushing to her cheeks and nose. The blood had been cleaned off her face and hands.

Roland looked over his shoulder, nodded to me, then glanced back at her, his chin resting in his palms.

“Any updates?” I asked as I went to stand beside him.

“None. We’re just supposed to let her rest,” he replied quietly.

Roland was never quiet, and I knew that meant one thing. “You feel guilty.”

He sat upright, and his hazel eyes narrowed on me. “What?”

“You left her. You were drunk, not aware of your surroundings, and you left her. You must feel guilt.”

“She needed backup,” he gritted out. “And against those things? Humans are basically fucking useless. Even if I hadn't been drinking, I never would've guessed those things would be in here.” He ran his hands through his brown hair. “Why do you care so much anyway, huh?”

Play it off.

I shrugged. “She could’ve died,” I said simply. “And she saved my life.”

“She has a tendency to do that for you, it seems,” he mumbled, and before I could reply, he added, “You’re saying you wouldn’t have run to get help?”

I was seething with rage when he said he’d left her alone. Even more so when I realized they had been in one of those private rooms together. But I knew he was right. Having other magical beings as backup was what she would have needed.

“You did the best you could,” I responded, crossing my arms and looking at Lena again.

Roland was quiet for a handful of moments. “Are you going to hate me for it forever?” he asked quietly.

My heartbeat picked up when he began to speak of our past, and my eyes shot to him. He was staring at his lap.

I don’t hate you for it.

I wanted to say that…wanted tofeelthat. I wanted to be able to look at him without being reminded…

Fuck. I can’t think about the past right now. Not ever.

Roland’s hazel eyes slid to mine, pain laced in his irises, and my eyes darted away.

Leroy stepped inside, his hands nervously going inside his pockets. “We are so grateful for what you did…all of you. We’ve never had anything like that enter our territory, let alone so many. Our borders are being reinforced as we speak, stronger wards being put in place.”

“How did this happen?” Roland questioned, turning in his seat to face him. “What the fuck were those things? Well, obviously, they were dead bodies from Ames.”

“These creatures have intelligence,” I responded grimly. “Unlike the Undead, who act like wild animals, these versions were smart, killing only enough to get through. As if they knew it would cause attention.”

Leroy rested his back against the tent fabric. “They aren’t quite like the Undead,” he said gravely. “I have my theories.” His blue eyes darted nervously between ours. “I think these puppets are Undead. But instead of half-lifted back to life… it’s more. Enough to make them smart.”

“Puppets?” Roland asked.

Leroy shrugged. “You heard the woman's voice. He was speaking through her, controlling her like a puppet.” He loosened a sigh. “It’s almost as if they are evolving.”

“They’re evolving…” I spoke. “Or their master is.”

Leroy's gaze fixed on Lena, who still remained asleep. “We haven’t had a necromancer around for hundreds of years…we need to locate and finish him before his creations end us all.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

LENA

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