It was time to kill the Mountain.
Eleanor opened the golden grimoire on her ritual table, the book’s celestial energy pulsing against her fingertips. Everything she’d ever wanted, the power that had lingered just beyond her reach for so long, would be hers with the right spell. Light radiated from the pages, poured over her, buzzed against her skin. It was no surprise Hera wanted this. The book was the most potent magical object she’d ever encountered.
“Show me how to kill the goddess of the mountain,” she ordered the tome.
The pages flipped, increasing in speed until they came to the spell she desired. The parchment settled with a gust of wind that blew back her hair and then dusted across her fingers, fading with the light.
The grimoire was written in the language of the gods, but with a twist of her ring and a practiced translation spell, the symbols arranged themselves into something she could read. “It’s easier than I thought. We spill the child’s blood over the heir’s heart and direct the reaction into the Mountain like a celestial spear. It will open up a channel where I can absorb the goddess’s power and leave her with none. She won’t actually be dead, sadly, but drained to the point she cannot wake. And with her power, I will ascend.”
Crimson shot her a look. “How will you get Gabriel’s heart?”
“I don’t need Gabriel’s heart. I have Marius’s.” She palmed the giant diamond. She’d resurrected the witch only hours ago, and under better circumstances, Eleanor would have had time to rest before performing this spell. But there was no time. Even now, she could hear the barbarians at the gate, pounding on the wards around the palace with nothing but her destruction on their minds.
The blond witch scoffed. “I’m not familiar with your magic, but in my world, the heart has to be fresh. There’s no magic in a dead heart.”
Eleanor lifted a corner of her mouth. She was glad to have this woman here to appreciate the genius of what she was about to do. No one really understood her. No one appreciated the power she’d so artfully cultivated. Maybe this resurrected human witch would.
“Ah, but this heart isn’t dead.” She held up the diamond between her talons. “See the silver flame inside the facets? It’s his soul. I’ve enchanted it to stay right where it is. More powerful that way. I can reuse it again and again. It’s how I resurrected you. That and a child’s blood.”
Crimson whistled. “That’s a dark bit of magic.” She poked her tongue into her cheek. The smile she shot her next was too big. It showed all her teeth and even more of her ambition. Yes, this woman did understand. “That’s why I wanted Raven and Gabriel’s brat. I knew I could use it to make myself immortal.”
Eleanor snarled. “And it will. Once I use the child’s blood to kill the goddess, you can have what’s left of her to extend your otherwise short human life. I won’t have use for the babe after this.” A blast shook the mountain, and she staggered forward, pulling the diamond closer to her chest.
“What the fuck was that?” Crimson clutched at her bodice.
Another blast rumbled in the distance. Eleanor frowned. “Darnuith and Rogos. If they haven’t made it through the wards yet, they will soon.” Her gaze cast to the window. “And when the suns set, Nochtbend and its vampires will be joining the party.”
“Vampires?” Crimson’s brow rose in intrigue.
“Bring the babe,” Eleanor commanded. “We must hurry.”
Crimson unlocked the iron cage where they’d shoved the screaming child after they’d rid themselves of her mother. But when Crimson reached inside for her, Charlie snapped.
“Ouch! The little shit bit me!” She yanked her hands back, and Eleanor growled as the child fluttered its strange, feathery wings and flew to the highest shelf in her ritual room. Charlie grinned down from above, her cherubic face framed in flaxen curls.
“Come here, child,” Eleanor said in her sweetest tone. She motioned with her hand.
Charlie kicked her feet over the side of the shelf and giggled.
“Retrieve her now,” Eleanor demanded of Crimson.
The blond sorceress scoffed. “The contract allowed me to call her to me once. Now that she’s mine, I have no more control than you.” She glanced at the bite on her hand. “Besides, I’m injured, and you’re the one with all the power.”
Eleanor sneered. The bite was jagged and bleeding. She couldn’t underestimate the spawn of a witch and a dragon. This was no helpless child. Eleanor whirled as another blast shook the palace. She didn’t have time for this.
Thumbing her ring, she drew a symbol in the air. Power snapped out, a yellow lasso of lightning that snagged the whelp. The babe’s head whipped back as Eleanor yanked her off the shelf. Charlie wailed and dropped. Eleanor caught her, the empress’s talons digging into the babe’s soft skin. Charlie screamed in pain.
“Hmm. Not the hide of a dragon. Soft. Easy to bleed. That’s convenient.” Ignoring Charlie’s cries, Eleanor wrangled the thrashing child into her pentagram. She placed Marius’s heart on the floor at the center of the symbol and braced the babe over her knee with a firm hand, then extended one talon toward her throat.
“Take your hands off my daughter!”
Eleanor had a split second to recognize Raven, and then a blast of pure power knocked her out of the symbol and into the shelves at the head of her ritual room. Magical objects rained down upon her head, the shelves cracking and splitting. From the darkened pile of rubble, Eleanor watched the skeleton of a baby dragon she’d kept on the highest shelf tip forward and back on its perch before giving way.
The last thing she saw before the lights went out was its skull dropping toward her.
Raven caughtCharlie in her arms, one eye trained on the rubble. Eleanor wasn’t dead. There was no way that was enough to kill a dragon. But the pile of debris didn’t move.
“Where’s Crimson?” Leena asked from behind her.
