Chapter 45
“Sometimes, I find myself wondering if the monsters we hunt are really the worst thing out there. Sometimes, I wonder if it’s the people we should be most afraid of.”
Journals of Reaper J. T. Cross
The people now standing in the middle of the cavern gave off the most cult-ish vibes she had ever seen.
Probably because they were, in fact, part of a cult.
They were dressed in long black cloaks. Hoods pulled up over their heads and obscuring their faces, they shuffled into the room and stood silently.
Alexys hoped desperately that whatever they were doing down here was harmless, and had nothing to do with the Hollow Walker, but she knew her luck up to that point had been nothing less than terrible.
The newcomers were silent, and despite being unable to see their faces, she could tell they were unsurprised by the horror scattered around them.
Whoever they were, they did not flinch or speak at the sight of mangled dead bodies.
She stayed quietly next to Nic, who pressed them both against the rough rock wall. For a moment, no one spoke, no one moved, and then, someone stepped forward.
“Who are you?” She wasn’t sure which one of the newcomers spoke, but the person had a distinctly feminine voice. Light and breathy, like a voice caught permanently between a whisper and a song. “What are you doing here?”
Nic stepped forward, revealing himself, and by extension, Alexys, who was clinging to his right arm.
“Funny, I could be asking you the same question,” Nic quipped.
“Did her beast bring you?” This time, the one who spoke lowered their hood.
She had the most impressive head of auburn curls Alexys had ever seen, and the coldest pair of eyes to match.
The woman’s mouth was pinched, and her nose was too small for her face.
In contrast to her companion, her voice was sharp and echoed through the room with a twang heavily accentuating her words.
She frowned at them. “She’s only supposed to send us one a month. ”
Things started clicking in Alexys’s mind: an ancient creature rumored to be made of magic; the only witch in that part of the mountains; the fingers in Opal’s kitchen, and the fingers missing from the severed hand in the cave; the whistling Elliot had heard which drew him out of the safety of Opal’s home; the way Opal let Alexys venture not once but twice into the godforsaken wilderness behind her house.
The death omens, the finger bones, the witch.
Alexys looked out at the people before her as the last of them lowered their hoods.
Four women and two men gathered in their black robes and their cruel expressions, and Alexys knew what they were there for.
An empty, cold calm began to settle over her the moment she realized Opal had sent Elliot to his death. She let Elliot’s backpack fall to the dirt and stepped up beside Nic. A bitter taste filled her mouth.
“It brings you sacrifices, doesn’t it?” It was less of a question and more of a calculated guess. Alexys’s vitriol caught all six of the cloaked figures by surprise. “You work for the Marrow Witch, and that beast brings you innocent people to kill for her.”
The redheaded one with the cruel mouth answered her. “The Walker brings us whatever we need to maintain our deal with her. Maybe that’s people.” She raised a defiant brow.
“Agnes,” an older man snapped from the woman’s right. The lines of aging on his face were deep enough to look like scars. “You’re sayin’ too much.”
“As if it matters,” Agnes hissed back. A smile twisted her face. “They’ll be dead soon anyway.”
“What are they for?” Alexys chose to ignore her. “The sacrifices. Why does she need them?” The soft-spoken woman took a step forward, her face much kinder than the others, but Alexys preferred that even less than Agnes’s outright cruelty.
“To ward evil away from our mountain,” she said. “To protect what’s ours. It’s a deal that was struck generations ago. The Old One protects us and our kin. She keeps us out of sight and keeps the mountain safe. Magic like that has a steep price.”
Alexys wanted to ask more. She’d worked District 13 for three years, and she’d never once heard mention of the Old Ones or the Marrow Witch.
On that trip alone, she’d heard about them at nearly every turn, and the only explanation she’d received was a demented fairytale from a witch that apparently dabbled in human sacrifice.
What were the Old Ones, and if they were as destructive as people made them sound, why hadn’t they shown up on Entity’s radar?
The woman added quietly, “We don’t have a choice.”
Nic scoffed. “What do you mean, you don’t have a choice?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Agnes dismissed them with a wave of her hand. “Ready them.”
Alexys opened her mouth to argue, but the words died on her tongue. Her arms were seized by a someone she hadn’t seen, another grabbed Nic, who managed to connect his elbow with the assailant’s head, but a heavy blow to the back of her head sent the world into darkness.