Clyde finished the first stage of the ritual. The five types of flesh lay scattered across the ground, each carefully sliced into smaller pieces, arranged at separate points.
Their positions formed the outline of a shape that resembled a pentagram if connected by lines, but the lines were unnecessary.
He rose to his feet and turned toward Mina.
She was still standing a short distance away, her twin daggers already drawn and held firmly in her hands. Her eyes swept across the surroundings, searching for any sign of danger.
Even though nothing had appeared to threaten them, she was rigid, ready to move at the slightest disturbance.
Clyde couldn't help smiling at the sight. Mina looked like she expected a battle to erupt at any moment. Her grip tight around her daggers, barely seemed to relax.
It was almost as if she were eager to prove that she could protect him from whatever came their way. The thought touched him.
