{Yes. You need his blood. That is what you need.}
Isabella stared at Bubu with wet eyes, messy hair, and a face full of disbelief.
For one moment, even the pain did not seem to know what to do because her whole mind went blank.
Blood?
Cyrus's blood?
Directly?
This damn system had truly lost whatever tiny piece of conscience it never had.
Isabella wanted to curse. She wanted to throw the clay cup near the fur bed at Bubu's glowing little face. She wanted to grab the floating thing and shake it until all the expensive points it had stolen from her fell out. But another hard wave of pain pressed down through her body, and her thoughts scattered at once.
Her fingers dug into Cyrus's arm. Her whole back tensed against his chest, and sweat rolled from her temple down the side of her face.
"No," she said in her mind with what little strength she had left. "Absolutely no. I am not doing that."
Bubu floated in the air with its usual shameless brightness.
