Struck Chord (Monsters of Hearthstone Book 3) by Alexa Saint

Author:Alexa Saint [Saint, Alexa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-08-18T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty Three

I’ve never felt such anger. When I lost my music, there was this soul crushing loss, but right now, standing over the body of my best friend, there’s a surge of such vehement rage, I’m certain I’ll combust.

How is he dead?

How is one of my best ever friends lying lifeless in his room?

I should be crying too, on my knees, draped over his corpse like Horror, I should be mourning the fact that I will never get to speak to him again, hug him, and listen to how fabulous he always thought he was. Instead I’m so angry I want to shout and scream and tear something up, smash something, throw things. I want to cause as much destruction as I can to release this volcano of vitriol that’s boiling within me.

“What happened?” I say through my teeth. I know Horror doesn’t deserve my fury, but right now I’m finding her tears to be grating.

She sniffs a few times and eventually looks up at me, looking worse for all the crying she’s done. I’m amazed there’s anything left in her. Her usually pale face is beet red, her eyes close to matching, and with a running nose and running eyes she’s more child-like than the elegant creature I’ve always associated her with.

“He—he came from the bathroom. I don’t exactly know what happened, but I saw him clutching his side. He knew he was dying, he said the knife had been made of gold.”

“What does that matter? If he’d gone to the Health Center they could have stopped the bleeding until he could get to hospital.” I feel guilty that my anger is tainting my words, but the situation I’m finding myself in is just too surreal for me to think that it is actual reality.

“It wouldn’t have mattered!” shouts Horror, and I’m momentarily taken aback that my best friend is also tapping into this seething anger that’s clouding the room. “The knife was golden, gold kills banshees.” She says it so blatantly, without any feeling, her tears forgotten as she lays it out.

I stumble, feeling around behind me, locating Lorcan’s desk chair so I can collapse on it and not fall. I remember the harmless conversation with Horror’s parents in Puerto Rico. Mr Cooper had mentioned that gold killed banshees. “Gold kills banshees,” I say, voicing my thoughts.

Horror then comes to herself, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand before she gets up and finds a tissue. “Yes,” she says, blotting away tears and streaked makeup in Lorcan’s mirror. “All they had to do was scratch him and he would have succumbed to the gold. It’s like, I don’t know arsenic or something to them. They touch gold, they more or less die.”

“Oh, shit,” and my first thought is my athame, the golden knife Horror gifted me last year that had been confiscated when I’d threatened Hayden with it. Had I inadvertently given Lorcan’s killer the murder weapon?

“You know why this has happened, don’t you?” she asks, her voice no longer sorrowful, but demanding.

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