Chapter 8
“Guen!” Jen called from across the gallery.
I jerked around, blinking fast to clear the fuzziness in my vision. Why in the world did it feel like I’d been run over by a truck?
Jen rushed forward, fear tightening her expression. Once at my side, she grasped my hand. “Are you going to be sick? What happened to your hand?” Her panicked voice was strained.
When I looked down at the inside of my wrist, blood bubbled and rolled over the sides of my arm from three small cuts the size of fingernails. Red dots hit the perfect white floor, like blood drops in snow. My heart was racing as I tried to make sense of what Áine had just done… had said.
Jen pulled a tissue from her handbag and pressed it to my wounds. “How did you cut yourself?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I found that Áine
