Chapter 94
Ha!
Ha!
Ha!
Sir Jacob's chest heaved as he fled through the narrow alleys, his legs burning, his lungs screaming. The inn was far behind him now—but the terror followed.
Monster!
He stumbled and kept running.
At first, I thought I was mad when I suddenly couldn't hear my own voice.
The memory clawed at him. The inn. The young lord. The guards frozen in place like statues. Alfonzo—that kind young man—writhing on the floor while his eyes cracked.
Then I witnessed it.
He turned a corner. The alley was dark, lit only by a single lantern hanging from a rusted hook.
That is not normal. No, no.
His feet hurried through the narrow passage, splashing through puddles that reflected the bruised sky above.
Crack.
Crack.
He stopped.
Before him, a figure crouched in the shadows. Blood covered its face, its hands, its clothes. Its mouth was busy—munching—on something that looked like a leg.
Sir Jacob fell onto his behind.
The sound alerted the figure.
