Page 63 of Of Heathens & Havoc

I reach my room and lurch to a halt when I see the answer to my question waiting.

There’s blood on the door.

Another message scrawled in dripping red.

On the day of judgment, they will give account for every careless word they speak.

This time, there’s no picture. It takes me a second to identify what they left instead. I lean closer, then sway on my feet, my stomach lurching sickeningly. My hand flies to my mouth, silencing the scream that lodges in my throat.

It’s not a message. It’s a warning.

Affixed to my door with a long, iron nail is a human tongue.

The gruesome sight draws my eyes like a magnet. My heart beats double-time, spelling out the terrible truth before me.

He knows.