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What We'll Do for Blood
Someone crouched on the ground.
They clung to something—a forearm, he realized.
Scott went cold and shivered. “Dad?”
The crouching figure turned and Maria’s shining eyes locked with his. Her mouth was covered in something dark that matched something on his father’s arm. For a second, Scott froze, watching her like she was a wild animal twice his size.
Maria stood up, her arms at her sides and her fingers splayed. A bolt of fear shot through his stomach until his bladder threatened to burst. He dropped the food. It landed with a weighty, crinkling thump that startled them both to life.
“Scotty,” she whispered, in the same slippery voice that had prickled the hairs on his neck.
Dry mouthed, Scott dashed for his bike.