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Chapter Thirty: In the House of Mr. Cillian

CHAPTER THIRTY

In the House of Mr. Cillian

“This will beever so much fun,” Mr. Cillian trilled.

He had taken me to a room with walls of fine wood paneling. This was no ordinary bone cell; it appeared to be a meeting room.

Mr. Cillian sat across from me in a fancy chair, sipping blood from a teacup. Not a drop stained his lips, but he dabbed them with his handkerchief anyway. “Salem wants to torture you himself, of course, but I’ll still get some satisfaction from delivering you to your doom.”

He hadn’t chained me to my chair; he acted as though this was an informal meeting between close friends.

I tried not to show my anger; I didn’t wish to indulge him. I had to approach this from a place of strength and certainty, no matter the crippling pain still coursing through my body.

“He’s coming to infect us all, Warren,” I said. “Everyone. Even you.”

“He told me he’d spare me if I got you ready for him,” Mr. Cillian replied. “He’ll even let me kill the Dark Watcher. And oh, how
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