“That witch is my mother. What do you know?”
Vercan didn’t quite roll his eyes, but from the sneer on his face, it was close. I shrugged like I had all the time in the world, but my pulse pounded a dull thump in my ears.
“Since you’ve gone to all this trouble, maybe I’ll tell you.” He smiled viciously. “The witch–”
He gurgled and blood sprayed my dress. I stared at him, uncomprehending, and he slumped to the ground.
I attempted to crouch, but it was too late. Samael’s wards had caught me— attuned to violence in his territory. I was trapped like a bug in amber, the ward keeping me frozen and awaiting my fate.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, could barely breathe. That meant that I couldn’t draw blood in an attempt to break the ward. It was one of the strongest I’d ever seen.
And if I stayed here, I was dead.
Panic rose, sharp and nauseating. From where I stood, I could see the arrow sticking out of the demon’s throat. Vercan shouldn’t have been dead— it took much more than an arrow to kill a high demon. And yet he was slowly turning to ash, his extremities blackening even as I watched. Someone had killed my lead. Again.
My evidence was disappearing.
I struggled, claustrophobia making my head spin. If I didn’t get a handle on my breathing, I’d pass out, and whoever had killed the demon could decide to kill me too.
Why kill me when they can frame me and have Samael kill me instead?
I swallowed back bile and forced myself to count to ten. All I had to do was draw some blood and I could likely break the ward. It would hurt like a bitch, but I could do it.
My lungs functioned, my eyes blinked, but my hand was still frozen in the air, the knife making it clear I’d been threatening the demon. I stared at my hand, willing it to twitch. If I could just move the knife, just curl it back until it sliced into my palm, I could attempt to break the ward and get out of here.
Time crawled by as I strained. It felt like I’d been standing in the alcove for twenty minutes, but it had likely only been a few seconds. Samael’s security would be here any moment. I needed to get gone.
Okay, the knife was a no go.
My mouth was slightly open, frozen on my last word. I dropped my shields and focused every ounce of my will on my teeth. Maybe I could bite my tongue.
Move. Move damn you.
This was my own fault. I’d let my magic languish, buried it deep and ignored it, and that decision was going to kill me.No.I wasn’t going out like this. I refused to die until I found the creature who killed my mother and made them pay.
Black spots formed in front of my eyes as I strained. My teeth moved a fraction of an inch and I poured more of my will into making them move.
Something wet slid from my nose and into my open mouth. I must’ve given myself a nose bleed from the strain.
The sharp taste of copper was a gift.
I was sure there was a much more elegant way to break wards that didn’t involve blood, but I’d use what I had. I concentrated, drawing every last ember of my magic into me, and for a single moment, I could see the ward around me— a deep, midnight blue, shimmering silver in places.
How something so deadly could be so beautiful was beyond me.
I strained further, tasting more blood, and with a ‘pop’ the ward broke. I stumbled forward, narrowly missing Vercan’s body as I twisted in the air, panting. I turned just as a shadow approached. I was out of time.
A high demon blocked my only exit. A high demon whoburnedwith power and fury.
Danica
Iwas dead meat. I was going to be killed by a demon so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at him.
Blue-black hair stood ruffled on his head, as if he’d just pushed his hand through it in frustration. I’d seen the lower half of his face once before, so my gaze darted over the sharp line of his jaw, the scruff along his chin, and the cheekbones that seemed to be slashed through a face that would make angels weep.
His silver eyes burned into mine, his lush mouth twisted, and a scar cut through one eyebrow— the only flaw in an otherwise perfect face.
“Well, this is interesting.” I flinched at the promise of death in his voice. His gaze shifted to the demon on the floor, his extremities already ash. The older demons were like that when they died, as if their body belonged only to the underworld, and when they were done using it, the underworld snatched it back.
