The Blood we Crave (The Hollow Boys Book 3) by Monty Jay

Author:Monty Jay [Jay , Monty]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2022-12-11T18:30:00+00:00

learn to play by the rules

THIRTEEN

thatcher

“Sir, I am sorry, but there hasn’t been an inmate escape since the 1970s. I can assure you everyone has been accounted for.”

My grasp on the phone stiffens, threatening to demolish it between my fingers.

“Put me through to the warden.”

The mob of people seems to detach from me, creating a route for me to stride through. Their fear rolls off them in waves, a pheromone only I can detect. The hysteria of finding a limb on campus lingers, building higher as the whispers grow louder.

The Butcher of the Spring has returned with a gift.

Or someone pretending to be him.

And everyone’s prime suspect is walking among them.

A few of them are bold enough to stare at me; others are too afraid of what would happen if they gawk at me a little too long. I can feel how strict their spines are, hear the murmurs of theories.

They all think I’m responsible for this. As if my ego needed to be stroked so much, I’d resorted to this gaudy public display.

It doesn’t bother me, their rumor mill that would spin with my name as the primary source. Whatever resolution their narrow minds are drawing is the least of my concerns at the moment.

Let them fester, let their minds run around until the thought of my very name makes them quiver. I have no problem being their boogeyman.

“He isn’t accepting phone calls. Can I leave a message?”

God must be real. It’s the only way I can explain how lucky this twit on the other side of the phone is that I’m not standing in front of him.

“Yeah, tell him that Thatcher Pierson is calling regarding Henry Pierson, an inmate we pay a large amount of money to keep there,” I reply swiftly, letting my feet carry me across campus with heavy steps.

“I-I—Mr. Pierson, I apologize. I had no idea—”

“Spare me,” I snap. “If you want to keep your job, send me through to the warden. I won’t ask again.”

The line is mute for only a short time before another voice greets me on the opposite end.

“Mr. Pierson, what do I—”

“Where is my father?” I don’t have time to rub elbows, a task I’ve prided myself on becoming an expert at faking.

I race past the school grounds and into the tree line behind the Rothchild District, where I know I’ll find my darling phantom hiding away, locked in a decaying crypt. The only comfort someone so linked to death could find is among the silence that comes from where the dead rest.

I can hear the rustle of paper just before the warden of Rimond Penitentiary replies, “Where he has been for the past several years, sir? His private room in solitary. Why? Are you requesting us to move him?”

“Since when? When was the last time someone laid physical eyes on him?”

There is a tightness in my chest, an overwhelming sort of uncomfortable pain as my question swings in the air. Branches snap beneath the weight of my steps as I delve deeper into the forest behind Hollow Heights.

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