Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
Escape was her only thought.
The night flushed into a kaleidoscope of chaos. Masks glinted in torchlight. A constellation of predatory stars crashed like waves into the earth, taking down tributes like lions tackling prey.
Screams and grunts. The collision of soft bodies plowing into hard ground.
Wide eyes gleamed in terror as tributes dispersed into the night like spilled marbles, scattering, tumbling, smashing into objects, and falling into cracks.
A tribute in seafoam chiffon darted past Daisy and collided with a stone urn. That was all it took for a hunter to lunge.
The bell thundered again—a single gong—marking the first conquer. It was actually happening. The vapor of a surreal dream shifted into solid mass, and it was going to crush them all.
“Fuck!” A grunt of pain was swallowed by the fog.
Another tribute rushed by in a flash of crimson, Trisha, maybe. It was impossible to tell. She already vanished into the hedgerow.
How were they moving so fast?
The shoes.
Daisy looked back, but there wasn’t time. The hunters were everywhere. Relentless in their hungry pursuit. Spurred by the chase.
Bare feet slapped the earth as another tribute rushed by.
“There’s one! The blonde!”
Daisy shifted directions, lunging for the closest shadowy cover.
The gardens received her like a closing mouth. Branches scraped like teeth, caging her in obscuring darkness. She panted, scanning the momentary shelter for holes that left her vulnerable. Hedges rose on either side, their leaves slick with moisture, shining silver in the moonlight.
She massaged a sharp cramp under her ribs, her panicked mind scrambling for a plan.
Torches flickered in the distance, thousands of trembling specks on an endless terrain.
Breath beat out of her like a saw carving through wood. Hide or keep moving? Neither could guarantee her safety. Where was the grotto? How far east? She had yet to see a green lantern.
Hide.
She waited for the voices to fade into the distance. Bells rang every few minutes, usually after a collision that ended with a scream.
Another bell. Then another. They came in drips that started to trickle, and then the rush slowed, replaced by the smack of bodies meeting.
Cries of passion pealed into the night from unseen shadows. The shrubs concealed views but did little to muffle the moans.
As soon as Daisy’s breathing slowed and her lungs cooled, she started to move—cautiously and quietly as a garden snake slithering through the dark.
The air turned thick and sweet as she passed beneath an archway of climbing roses. Their cloying perfume masked the tinge of sweat that randomly tinged the briny air.
The terrain shifted, and she rolled her ankle, covering her mouth before a squeak of pain could escape. She shut her eyes and winced, swallowing down a howl.
Ridiculous shoes.
She rubbed her ankle, telling herself it could have been worse, then tugged the buckle loose. They were architectural marvels of impracticality—silver straps, thin as harp strings, with heels that tapered to points no wider than her smallest finger.
The tendon above her heel throbbed, and a pebble lodged between her toes. She flicked it into the dirt and dropped the shoe.
Clutching a thick vine for balance, she switched feet, but her unsteady hands made it difficult to work the tiny buckle. The ground was alive with obstacles, roots that grabbed and stones that shifted. Cold mud sucked at her soles as she unevenly steadied herself.
Frustrated, she yanked the thin, decorative strap, and it snapped loose. The shoe dropped to the ground, and she stilled at the sight of her scraped hands.
Blood.
The longer she stood, the more reality slipped in. Aches and scrapes. The actual list of risks and possible damages continued to grow.
She debated removing her pantyhose as branches cut into her arms and snagged her hair. A cool breeze sifted through the leaves, and she stilled, barely breathing.
The shadows shifted. Salt wafted from the invisible coast, catching the gardens’ perfume. She could smell the sea, but beyond the gardens, everything was black.
A chill rushed down her arms. The temperature had dropped.
Laughter rang out as a hunter approached from several meters away.
Daisy’s back stiffened. She stood perfectly still, silently, pushing her abandoned shoes aside with her toe. A tiny spider lowered from a web, weaving up and down mere inches from her eye, but she couldn’t risk moving to swipe it away. How many other things crawled close by? On her?
Her heart raced as the hunter passed. He swallowed back the last drop from a crystal tumbler, then threw it like litter into the gardens. His white mask caught the light, and Daisy’s breath hitched.
Tannhäuser.
His shirttails hung loose, and his jacket was gone. Had one of those bells tolled for him?
She shivered, and her weight shifted. The delicate snap of a twig underfoot cracked like a small bone.
Tannhäuser stilled and scanned the gardens.
Daisy stopped breathing.
His bright blue eyes molested every shadow, slow and thoroughly, then he moved on to the path.