Read Online The Risen (Book 2): Margaret by Marie F Crow - Free Book Online Page B

wait. We repeat.

CHAPTER 13
    T hree tones and the room becomes a garden of small statues instantly. Feet are raised, heads are cocked, bodies balance with the constant shift of required weight all while we try to assess what has happened. But there is something else we are straining to grasp, too. There was another sound that rang out through the room. A sound our minds pique with the yearning our bodies crave. Prey.
    It was a high-pitched scream of stark fear and the boy with the blue cloth stuck to his arm has found the source first. There is another set of barriers once again blocking our exploration. Barriers that we had not noticed until now that are holding the sound of our target behind them. The riddle of the last barrier is still fresh in our minds.
    The boy applies the same test to them, watching them sway slightly from his hand. He smiles with the simple mechanism of the blockage and pushes harder, catching one with the same hand. With a pause, he waits for us to gather behind him. His body is tense with the anticipation of what may lie on the other side. Like soldiers, we file in behind him waiting for a signal to come. His arm is ready to open the door and we will march, not to defend, but to destroy.
    The chime comes again, three loud sharp tones with no pattern other than a basic repeating, and it brings forth the signal we were waiting for. His scream is an invitation. It is the power held by a motivational speaker on a high stage, spurring others into action and we act with it.
    The door is shoved open, allowing no hidden space between it and us. It grows stuck on some hidden spring, giving us an edge in our game with its wide, welcoming space held open. There is nothing to segment our formation now with irregular closings that would limit the number of us entering at a time. We are a long line of hunger and shades of desperation.
    I know it is her before I am able to enter the room. The scent that has been playing peek-a-boo with me is now heavy in the air. It hangs like a thick fog on a fall morning. I can see through it but it coats me with each step I take until I am wearing it as if it is mine. But this scent is hers. She has trademarked it and claimed it in my memory and I can’t wait to taste it. I want to feel it roll over my tongue before it slides down my throat. My hunger pulses with the pain now that I know she is so close to me.
    Our minds retreat into a world of prey and predator. We match their every backwards step with one of a forward. We are keeping the perfect pace with the prey to not trigger a fight or flight feeling from them. Our eyes become mind readers that stay and lock on panicked faces with our calm thoughts that project no need for any rush. We are given clues with the body language of our meal as to how to adjust our hunt. We are told when to speed up, or keep pace. We watch, trying to guess any changes in their behavior. We wait, yearning for the signal that will tell us when the time is right to take them.
    It is a tango of death. A dance full of stiff movements with locked arms and blank faces. It is hard to tell who is the leader of this dance. Are we leading them, or are they leading us? With the change in the brunette, it is easy to see the dance is about to come to an end.
    Her eyes glance around with too much white exposed by her fears. She is looking for an out that is not to be found. There are no more long hallways to run from us. There is not a barrier to place between us, hiding her from us. There are just makeshift rows of an alleyway that lead us deeper into the new room.
    I told you I would find you. I smile with the thought.
    There is a shift in the brunette. Her body language hints at a discovery she is trying to shield from us. I am not the only one to figure this out with the air of a mood swing around us. Our calm veneer is wearing thin with the constant pressure to remain docile and the hunger that fights against it.
    Fingers flex, fantasizing with the