203
“More what?”
He ignored her question, grabbed her wrist and
hauled her toward the back door. “If you value your
home, move. Confronting them inside won’t leave you
much more than ash and blackened stone to sift
through.”
She could smell it now, the sting of sulfur or maybe
brimstone. Whatever it was, it was something that
burned. “What are they?”
“Xaphan’s concubines,” he muttered, tearing open
the door and shoving her through. She did a quick scan
of the dark yard and saw nothing but the silhouettes of
the trees, branches outstretched like skeletal fingers.
Ducking out, she eased into the shadows, careful,
watchful. He did the same, so close his arm pressed
against hers as he scanned the perimeter.
“Xaphan?” she whispered, hugging the house as
she moved along the porch. That was the same name
she’d heard at Tesso’s Bar and Grill.
Dagan’s reply was soft enough that she had to strain
to make out the words. “Keeper of the furnaces and the
braziers that light the lakes of fire.”
Like that told her anything. Though the Daughters of
Aset taught their foot soldiers little enough, Roxy had
taken a couple of college courses on mythology and
religion, and she had also done some research on her
own. So she knew that pretty much every territory in the
Underworld had lakes of fire. Which ones were
Xaphan’s?
