The Curse Of Our Ninth Life
"No, no, no..."
I'm trying to move toward them but my husband grabs my arm. His grip is so tight it hurts.
"Don't," he says.
The man who killed them is now walking toward us, moving through the crowd like everyone is invisible.
"We need to go," my husband says. He pulls me away from the altar, away from the bodies, toward a door at the back of the hall.
"She needs to know," the man said.
"Not yet," my husband says.
Now I looked at both of them confused...know what?