It was one thing for Prei’s armies to touch and prey on demons Sam hadn’t spoken with in centuries, to the ones he cared for but was not close to.
But Millie…
Touching Millie was an act of war. Touching Millie was grounds for the slowest execution he could imagine. Touching Millie…
Rage billowed from the very marrow of his bones, and as he looked back to that border, he had to remind himself not to raise the wandering dead right then.
“Boss?” Rolfe called out from the cab of the truck.
Sam wrenched his gaze from the border back to the truck, and then to the two Firemoor soldiers he’d dragged through those shadows for questioning.
“I’ll send our people back to the castle,” he said, his shadows swarming their bodies. “I can drive. Run home ahead of us and see if you can get them stable. Millie and I will be right behind with our new friends.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
FOR TWO DAYS, Ana had nearly driven herself mad counting the same bricks, watching the same shadows on the walls. A black cat had come down to see her earlier in the day. It had sat with her a while, comforted her with a purr, and then disappeared without another glance.
Ana had just surrendered herself to sleep when she heard footsteps on the stairs. She barely moved, thinking it was Rolfe just coming to sneak her another blanket or food. But when she heard a key in the lock and the cage door roll back, she lifted her head just so off the stone floor—
Only to be met with Sam’s affirmative stature staring down at her.
She nearly bolted upright at the sight of him, his shirt covered in blood, stains on his face and neck… his eyes were almost black as he stared at her through the unruly strands of hair on his forehead, his chin dipped.
“Sam—“
“Come with me,” he said, the softness of his voice not matching the danger that exuded from him at that moment.
“Where… where are we going?” Ana asked, hesitantly rising to her feet.
“I want to show you something.”
He turned without another word, leaving the door open. For one brief second, Ana considered bolting to the other end of the dark hall to see if there was another exit. But a shadow wrapped her wrist and tugged her forward, and Ana didn’t try to stray away.
Those same shadows kept her in check as she padded up the stairs behind him into a long dimly lit hall. The artwork on the walls and the dingy burgundy runner caught her eyes with every forced step.
Her first look inside Castle Corvus.
It had a casualness that was different from the castles she was used to. Others were grand, brightly lit and audacious, with great statues and polished floors. They had rooms that did not look as though they were ever meant to be used.
But Castle Corvus was…
Comfy.
It looked as though it hadn’t been dusted in centuries, which she wondered if perhaps it hadn’t. It was only two people living at the castle, after all. No servants of any kind, only groundskeepers for the cemetery.
Ana paused at one of the paintings, a newer one, or so it seemed since the dust had barely settled on it. An oil on canvas, darker colors, though it depicted a building on fire in what looked like old town… there were specs of bright green littering the entire work, and Ana realized it was the painting Millie had wanted to show her.
“Deianira.”
Sam’s voice cut the stiff hall, and Ana was shoved forward once more.
They passed more open doors, the old smell of leather and mahogany and dust hitting her with every step.
Nevertheless, they stopped as they approached an open door, where the noise of two people arguing sounded out into the hall. Sam paused, his hand on the doorframe, and Ana stayed confined in the shadows behind him.
Millie sat on what looked like an elegant dining table that presumably hadn’t been used in years due to the number of cobwebs on the paintings, the sconces, and the most massive fireplace she’d ever laid eyes on. Compared to the rest of what she’d seen, this room had the most light coming in due to the enormous windows on the opposite side. She had a long gash on her side, and her insides were a glowing green. Rolfe stood in front of Millie with gauze, forceps, alcohol, and the rest of an old first aid kit sprawled on the table.
“Fuck all, Roll,” Millie snapped when he tried to force open the wound to clean it. “You’re the worse nurse.”
