Page 45 of The Villains of Winter

“Not yet,” James responded. As if he were lying in wait for danger.

Elliott worried for him deeply. The fire was rapidly growing, devouring all of the wood and air in its path–a living creature of destruction. It would soon be a beacon of light.

“James, we need to get rid of the fire,” Elliott exclaimed.

Suddenly, a deluge of water sprayed his eyes.

James submerged into the waters next to Elliott’s body. James’s skin was still warm, despite the freeze of the gale force winds. James warned him, “Keep your voice down.”

James lowered his body until only his peculiar golden eyes were visible.

Elliott’s cheeks burned raw, realizing he heard someone.

“The blizzard is getting intense. Let’s leave…”

“He’s probably indoors somewhere. But we need to make sure…”

A distant voice caught Elliott’s ears. Elliott’s head spun quickly to the fire, but James held him back. It was the voice of two men–two well-clothed men.

James had burnt their own stained clothes to ash already, Elliott discovered. James had obscured the paths of blood where Lucien had been killed then dragged the body to the fire. It looked like Elliott’s body was burning.

“…Lucien should have returned by now.”

Elliott picked up the wind-thinned voice of the second elector.

“Think Lucien might’ve refused to kill the sophomore?…”

Their footsteps grew close as they questioned Lucien’s change of heart. James narrowed his eyes on the two men and their dark, wool coats, their formal student ties, and leather shoes that were braced with metal at the soles. James glared at the sacrificial axe in the taller man’s grip.

“…I’m not convinced. Lucien seemed excited for it…”

The first voice was nearly behind Elliott’s numb ears. If it weren’t for the stream’s overgrown foliage, Elliott would’ve been immediately spotted. Instead, the electors treaded towards the fire with vapors of white breath. “I guess Lucien didn’t kill him yet. It’s one thing to fantasize about murder, it’s another thing to actually commit the…”

The voice stopped. “What the fuck is that stench?”

Belatedly, the young men squinted at the flames that they had tracked deep into the hiemal summit. Without a word, the taller man shifted his position in the early winter sun, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

He bent down, plucking one of Elliott’s silver fox rings from the ground.

“He burned the kid?”

“Oh, fuck…” Callum retched into the snow. “Hell, Lucien.”

“He…immolated him?” The elector concealed his nose with his woolen sleeve, the pungence of human remains permeating the air. He grimaced at the skeleton. “…Do you think he burned him alive?”

“What do you think?” Callum hissed. “Didn’t I warn you that Lucien was weird as shit? He seemed too eager for the sacrifice. He forced Elliott to eat a boar head. I warned all of you!”

“You did warn us, Callum.” James emerged from the half frozen rapids, startling the two young men.

Perseus Swann quickly glanced at the fire to ensure what he saw was real. Lucien’s hair and skin had long been unrecognizable–cauterized to crisps, his teeth blackened with inferno. Neither of them knew it was the wrong body.

James’s eyes were as wet and lost as a fawn.

James’s lips trembled faintly. “I came to see the aftermath myself. How could he…?” A defeated look deepened in his features. An immeasurable tragedy was caught in his eyes. “How could you let him…?”

Every facet of James’s superlative acting was deftly exhibited. Instinctively, Perseus set the axe aside on the ground to remove his expensive coat. Then, he wrapped the Yves Saint-Laurent overcoat around James’s bare shoulders to blanket him from the polar chill as James stepped out of the ice-thickened waters.

Meanwhile, Callum Han stared in confusion at James’s broad chest, his slightly bruised abdomen, and his naked, sun-tanned thighs in the low-temperature wind. Callum’s eyes searched the mountain grounds for the man’s clothes as Perseus dried the young man’s hair with his sleeve.