Gods of Blood and Bone (Seeds of Chaos Book 1) by Azalea Ellis Page B
Authors: Azalea Ellis
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clarity to my mind, and I focused on it, trying to get a grip.
When “Dinner Time” was called, we all turned to run. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Spanish girl slip in that same puddle of blood covering the ground. But I didn’t stop. How could I stop?
When I reached the safe line and looked back, she was pinned to the ground by the blue T-shirt “wolf.” He snarled down at her, drool dripping onto her cheek.
The fingers of her left hand were wrapped around his neck, holding him off. She formed the other into a fist and slammed it into his ear. Once, twice, three times.
He fell sideways off her, eyes unfocused for a second. He shook his head and rallied, but she’d already scrambled to her feet.
She pulled back her right fist and slammed it down into the back of his head, propelling it with the force of her entire body.
His face smashed flat into the ground. He twitched, and she pulled back and punched once more. He didn’t move that time, but she kicked him in the side before racing back to the safe line, weaving to avoid the remaining monsters and bitten Players.
I watched her in awe. What kind of strength was that?
By the start of the next round, we were down to almost half of our original numbers, while Mr. Wolf’s had grown again.
Everyone’s tension inched toward the breaking point as we got closer and closer to Mr. Wolf. A girl tried to bolt back to the safety line early, but vines burst from the earth, tripped her, and held her down. She screamed and struggled, but was trapped. When Mr. Wolf sang out “Dinner Time!” all the attackers ignored her, leaving the easy pickings for last.
Only a few seconds from the safety line, a turned Player lunged for a boy running close to Chanelle. The boy swerved and spun to avoid it, smashing his elbow hard into her temple.
She went down.
I stumbled the last few meters across the line and looked back, gasping.
She knelt on her hands and knees, blood dripping down the side of her head. Beside her, the boy who’d elbowed her was being bitten.
“Run!” I screamed at her.
She crept forward a few inches and tried to stand, but couldn’t get her feet solidly under her, and fell forward again.
The turned Player released its catch and turned to her.
I took a step into the light, but she snarled at me, “Get back!” Her voice was slurred, groggy.
It grabbed her head between two hands and bit into the curve where her neck met her shoulder. It ripped its head back viciously, and a bite-sized chunk of flesh went with it.
She flopped awkwardly in its grip, like a fish stranded on the shore, and let out a choked scream.
“No!” I shouted.
“My sister…China. Find her. Thirteen hundred Brine Street. Tell her…to live!” She squeezed the words out, rapid-fire.
It bit into her neck again, this time digging its teeth in and shaking its head like a dog with a toy.
She ignored it, keeping her eyes locked on mine.
I nodded, and her eyes rolled back into her head, and she started to thrash around.
I pinched the inside of my thumb pad, hard. Once again, the pain allowed me to focus. But not enough, so I bit my bottom lip, until the iron taste of blood blossomed on the tip of my tongue and spread throughout my mouth.
* * *
Mr. Wolf, drool running down the collar of his once immaculate suit, looked at the number of new “wolves,” and laughed.
Our numbers were severely depleted, and the danger of each round grew exponentially greater.
I looked at his grotesque, laughing head, and I hated him. I hated him, and I was absolutely terrified. I shuffled forward as the next round started and thought of the Seeds I’d wasted. What good was Beauty to me now, when my life was on the line?
Each round seemed to be taking longer and longer, as if Mr. Wolf was trying to get us as close to him as possible before calling Dinner Time, and because we were moving so slowly, it was a
When “Dinner Time” was called, we all turned to run. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Spanish girl slip in that same puddle of blood covering the ground. But I didn’t stop. How could I stop?
When I reached the safe line and looked back, she was pinned to the ground by the blue T-shirt “wolf.” He snarled down at her, drool dripping onto her cheek.
The fingers of her left hand were wrapped around his neck, holding him off. She formed the other into a fist and slammed it into his ear. Once, twice, three times.
He fell sideways off her, eyes unfocused for a second. He shook his head and rallied, but she’d already scrambled to her feet.
She pulled back her right fist and slammed it down into the back of his head, propelling it with the force of her entire body.
His face smashed flat into the ground. He twitched, and she pulled back and punched once more. He didn’t move that time, but she kicked him in the side before racing back to the safe line, weaving to avoid the remaining monsters and bitten Players.
I watched her in awe. What kind of strength was that?
By the start of the next round, we were down to almost half of our original numbers, while Mr. Wolf’s had grown again.
Everyone’s tension inched toward the breaking point as we got closer and closer to Mr. Wolf. A girl tried to bolt back to the safety line early, but vines burst from the earth, tripped her, and held her down. She screamed and struggled, but was trapped. When Mr. Wolf sang out “Dinner Time!” all the attackers ignored her, leaving the easy pickings for last.
Only a few seconds from the safety line, a turned Player lunged for a boy running close to Chanelle. The boy swerved and spun to avoid it, smashing his elbow hard into her temple.
She went down.
I stumbled the last few meters across the line and looked back, gasping.
She knelt on her hands and knees, blood dripping down the side of her head. Beside her, the boy who’d elbowed her was being bitten.
“Run!” I screamed at her.
She crept forward a few inches and tried to stand, but couldn’t get her feet solidly under her, and fell forward again.
The turned Player released its catch and turned to her.
I took a step into the light, but she snarled at me, “Get back!” Her voice was slurred, groggy.
It grabbed her head between two hands and bit into the curve where her neck met her shoulder. It ripped its head back viciously, and a bite-sized chunk of flesh went with it.
She flopped awkwardly in its grip, like a fish stranded on the shore, and let out a choked scream.
“No!” I shouted.
“My sister…China. Find her. Thirteen hundred Brine Street. Tell her…to live!” She squeezed the words out, rapid-fire.
It bit into her neck again, this time digging its teeth in and shaking its head like a dog with a toy.
She ignored it, keeping her eyes locked on mine.
I nodded, and her eyes rolled back into her head, and she started to thrash around.
I pinched the inside of my thumb pad, hard. Once again, the pain allowed me to focus. But not enough, so I bit my bottom lip, until the iron taste of blood blossomed on the tip of my tongue and spread throughout my mouth.
* * *
Mr. Wolf, drool running down the collar of his once immaculate suit, looked at the number of new “wolves,” and laughed.
Our numbers were severely depleted, and the danger of each round grew exponentially greater.
I looked at his grotesque, laughing head, and I hated him. I hated him, and I was absolutely terrified. I shuffled forward as the next round started and thought of the Seeds I’d wasted. What good was Beauty to me now, when my life was on the line?
Each round seemed to be taking longer and longer, as if Mr. Wolf was trying to get us as close to him as possible before calling Dinner Time, and because we were moving so slowly, it was a
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