Page 61 of Jacinth

Oh, boo.

My next plan was to trace the boundary and hope I could find a kickass place to hide.

I mean, I was great at hide and seek as a kid. Transferable skills, I was sure of it.

The cemetery was eerily quiet as I crept—in super stealth mode—through trees and over small hills. I was doing an amazing job at it too, until I heard her yell.

Birdie.

All thought went out the window, and I ran for the source of the call. I’m sure it had already been established that my sense of self-preservation wasn’t the best, but no one messed with my sister and got away with it.

I found her tied to this angel statue that I had always low-key mocked in my head. Who needs to build an angel in a graveyard, especially when we have a real one who visits regularly. Sucking up, in my opinion, but I digress. My current issue with the angel statue was its employment as a jailing device for my twin.

“I’ve got you. Give me a sec and I’ll get you free.”

Birdie turned toward me, and I was sure I could see the desperate gratitude in her eyes. I had always wanted to be her hero. You know, so I could lord it over her later.

“What the hell are you doing here, you idiot?! Run! Me bait. You dead. Unless you get the hell outta here.”

“Well, there’s gratitude for you. How about a thank you, Jace. You are the hottest, most amazing savior ever, and I am so grateful to you.” I planted my hands on my hips and gave her my best expectant look. I could wait here all day, but she was going to thank me.

“Jace, listen to me carefully. You are the one who is in danger. You need to run now.”

“There is no way I am leaving you here so you can bitch at me about it later. Now say ‘thank you, Jace’ and I’ll untie you.”

“Has death made you dumber?! Run.”

“Too late.” The masculine voice that cut over our bickering irritated me... for the half-second it took for me to place it.

I turned on the balls of my feet, the rest of me frozen like a kid caught stealing cookies, and I came face-to-face with the evil dick himself.

No... I didn’t want dicks to be evil... I needed a new association. The evil prick... wait.

That was another word for dick.

The evil ball sweat himself. Yeah, that was a good one. Ball sweat was even worse than boob sweat.

I checked back in to find my twin sister and evil dude wearing near-identical, incredulous expressions.

“My brain-to-mouth filter broke again, didn’t it?” I asked Birdie in as calm a voice as I could manage.

“Evil ball sweat? That’s the best you got?” she asked.

I shrugged helplessly and wondered if Alisdair would fall for a diversionary trick of the ‘look over there’ variety. I guessed not. Damn it.

I still decided it was worth making a run for it, and as I sprinted for the nearest cover, it occurred to me I was no better at running now than when I was alive, i.e. I sucked.

So, while disappointing, it wasn’t really a surprise when I felt the black smoke tendrils wrap around my torso and yank me backward.

I heard a broken cry of denial go up from not too far away—not close enough, though, clearly. I couldn’t tell which one of my men had tried to save my day.

All joking aside, I hoped they knew I really did love them.

Even if it was too late now.

CHAPTER 42

Skyler

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