Gold twined up my left forearm in an intricate design. It danced in the dim light like it was alive. On anyone else, the shimmering color would be beautiful. On me it marked me as Samael’s. My hands itched with the urge to grab the knife and slice it off.
“It would reappear on your scarred flesh,” Samael said softly, warning dripping over every word.
I stumbled to the bathing room and made it to the sink before I lost my stomach. My body shuddered, sweat cooling on my skin, and I stared at the birthmark on my wrist.
Not a birthmark at all.
My mind was a confused mess, but it also seemed… clearer somehow.
Ididbelieve that I’d bargained with the demon, and thebirthmarkmy grandfather so loathed was a representation of that bond.
Which meant grandfather was lying to me.
And I was going to find out why.
I rinsed the sink, then stalked to my closet, pulled out the first dress I found, and wrestled it onto my body. I didn’t bother tying it properly. I had no idea where I was going, but I was driven to dosomething.
A young girl laughed with me as our heads pressed against each other—hers a wealth of blond curls, mine dark and straight. The light was dimmed, our flashlights lighting up some kind of tent.
“Shhhh,” the girl laughed. “The monster’s coming,”
A woman stuck her head into that tent, a tray of food in her hands.
“Monster, huh? Would a monster feed you? Or would iteatyou?”
She placed the tray on the ground and crawled into the tent, tickling us both until we squealed.
Then we were both beneath the bed covers, a little older, whispering secrets—most of them about boys. We pinky swore to never tell, and one day…
One day she was torn from my arms, and I was packed away, sent somewhere new.
Then there was training. A craggy-faced man with a continual scowl. Knives and guns and poison. Hand-to-hand combat and running—always running.
There was the blonde girl again, but she had grown into a beautiful woman. Her expression was bitter, her eyes hurt as she shut her door in my face.
I wanted to curl up and cry.
But one day, we were talking once more, this time in some kind of tavern surrounded by all kinds of different creatures. She smiled at me, and it was like we were children again, both of us up to no good.
There was a word for this relationship. A word I hadn’t let myself think. I mouthed the word to myself.
Sister.
And another word came. A word that made my throat ache, made my hands fist.
Evie.
I had a sister.
My face was wet, and I brushed the tears away. Something rubbed against my face as I wiped at my eyes–something that felt like cool metal. But when I pulled my hand away, there was nothing there. On my other hand, my ring glinted in the light, the gold warm and familiar.
They’d kept me from my sister. My grandfather had never mentioned her, and Iknew, down to my bones, that if I dared speak her name, I would risk his wrath.
I shakily got to my feet, fury roaring through my body, making me hot with a mixture of rage and grief. The ring seemed to taunt me, and the next memory unraveled like a slow understanding.
“The ring removes enchantments. That much, Edward was sure of. According to the poem, it also contains a spell of invisibility when you put it in your mouth. That’s how Angelica escaped the sea monster. And now we know that its resistance to enchantment means it’s a key part of the Spell of Three.”
Those weremywords. That wasmyvoice in my head. I didn’t know who I’d been speaking to, but I didn’t give myself a chance to back out, riding my rage through to its inevitable conclusion.
