Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Lucretia.” I do my best to break her iron-like hold. “It’s me, Sasha.”
She doesn’t let go, just sucks at the wound on my neck.
I go for my gun, but she slaps it out of my hand, launching it across the room.
“Snap out of it,” I hiss, kicking at my newly animated friend. “You don’t want to eat me.”
“Let her go,” Kevin says from somewhere. “Or I will shoot.”
“You will not shoot anyone,” says a familiar hypnotic voice.
“I will not shoot anyone,” Kevin repeats, sounding glamoured.
“Throw that gun away,” the voice says.
Kevin tosses his gun in the same direction where mine disappeared.
“Lucretia, dear, let Sasha go this instant.” The voice is dripping with honey-laced malice, and despite my shock and panic, I realize who this is.
Lucretia releases my shoulders, a
