Page 6 of Blood

“And why is he a bitch?”

“White Stags, in general, represent purity,” he explains, his fingers moving to tap against his crossed leg. I notice, somewhat belatedly, that his fingernails are painted black, though the color is beginning to chip, as if he hasn’t reapplied polish in some time. “It’s why the White Stag was voted onto the council to begin with...hundreds of years ago.”

“But I thought new council members were voted on every twenty years?” I ask.

A wry smile grazes the edges of his lips, as if he’s pleased I’ve been paying attention to his impromptu lesson. “Yes. And that just shows how influential the White Stag has been in the monster community. He’s been reelected every single time.”

“So, he’s pure and fair and all that jazz.” I squint at him. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Or maybe it’s a bad thing? Fuck if I understand monster culture. I may be one myself, but I prefer living in my own little bubble. Bubble A La Violet.

“It is...” Alex seems as if he wants to say more. He absently begins to bite at his lip ring.

“I’m going to need more than that, Alex,” I tell him sternly, and he heaves out a heavy breath.

“While there are thousands of white stags in existence, there’s only one White Stag. The White Stag.” He distractedly scratches at the nape of his neck, his tattoos a stark contrast to his pale skin. “It’s said that he has...special abilities.”

A heavy rock settles in my stomach, sluicing the contents around.

Yup.

Don’t like that.

“And those abilities are?”

Another prolonged sigh escapes him. “It’s rumored that, in his attempt to be just and pure, he’ll...”

“He’ll what?”

I really, really don’t like the sound of this.

He says the next words in a rush. “It’s said that he’ll peer into a person’s soul and judge them. If they’re found pure, they’re allowed to live. And if they’re found impure...”

“They’ll be bought a cake?” I ask tentatively.

Alex snorts. “A cake laced with poison, maybe.”

I fidget on the seat as fear slides into my heart like a surgical blade.

Is that what the White Stag is going to do to me?

Look into my heart?

Judge me?

What will he see?

I can’t imagine he’ll be overly impressed with all I have accomplished. I’ve murdered, lied, stolen...

Is this how my story’s going to end?

Trampled to death under a damn deer’s hooves?

Do deer even have hooves?

“You’re going to be okay, Violet,” Alex whispers, drawing my eyes back to him. I can’t help but focus on the frown etched into his forehead, tugging at his brows. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

His words feel like a...declaration of sorts.

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