Page 96 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

“The higher-ups will hear,” Mine notes. “I should—” He takes a step forward. I extend my arm to stop him.

“No. Don’t. The demon already has you in his sights. He knows you can see him, and we don’t know what he’s capable of at this point.”

“But he’s only getting stronger.”

“Exactly. And before we knowhowto stop him, we cannot be reckless.”

He purses his lips, clearly not satisfied with this course of action.

“Break it up!” someone yells. “Everyone, stand down!”

“I guess that’s the higher-ups?” I ask.

Mine nods.

I spot a couple of officers coming toward the fighting soldiers. But more surprising is the fact that the boy I’d seen before, the dead teenager, is trailing behind them.

“Do you know him?” I point at the young ghost.

“That’s Tommy,” he adds in a low voice. “He was a good lad.”

“He didn’t cross over when he died. Do you know what might be keeping him here?”

“He was only eighteen,” Mine adds with a sigh. “He had a sweetheart back home he wanted to go back to.”

“And now he won’t be able to.”

“No, he won’t.”

With the higher officers now at the scene, the brawl devolves even further. The demon is gleeful as his tendrils swirl in the air in an attempt to connect to the newcomers.

“We must do something,” Mine mutters.

I grip his arm tighter to stop him. “No.”

I should be encouraginghim to break up the fight. Yet all I can think about is the fact that once he’s in the demon’s proximity, he might become a victim, too.

Tommy, the young ghost, hovers around, staring at the demon. I suppose he doesn’t understand what’s happening.

Once the officers get involved, everything is a flurry of movement that I have a hard time tracking.

Tommy moves, his arm extended, his mouth open on a loud screech, and I belatedly see what he’s pointing at. One of the males has drawn up a weapon—a pistol of sorts. He’s waving it around, though with my feeble sight, I can barely make out where he’s aiming.

But Tommy can see, and in a loud voice, he calls out a name.

Vitry.

My eyes widen just as the gun goes off.

I don’t know when I move or how I end up covering Mine with my body. I only know that the pain from the bullet is intense.

So. Damn. Intense.

“Minnie?” He blinks. “Minnie, what happened? Are you all right?”

“I will…heal,” I croak. He wouldn’t.

So what if it hurts a little—too much—at least I will be as good as new in a day or so. Mine isn’t likely to survive a bullet wound. Based on the fact that the bullet hit me in the shoulder, right above my heart, I assume it was going to hit him low in the stomach.

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