Book 3: The New Blood Taker

Lydia

Jesse’s death has left me numb with shock. I can barely sleep and eat. The memory of her being decapitated replays in my mind nonstop. The scent of her blood lingers, refusing to leave me alone. I don’t know what the Blood Takers did to her body, but my best guess is that they dumped it somewhere in the woods.

The thought of her body rotting out in the elements or animals feasting on her remains makes me feel sick and diminishes my already non-existent appetite. My stomach growls, and I’m feeling lightheaded, but I ignore the can of sardines one of the teenage boys offers me.

“You should eat,” he says. “You’ll need your strength.”

I look up at him from where I’m seated on the ground. He’s of average height with brown hair. There’s some baby fat still clinging to his cheeks and acne on his chin. He can’t be older than seventeen.

“Don’t get too close, Jim,” one of the women tells him. “Look at what happened to the last person that w