“Holy shit,” I whisper, unable to look away.
The wind picks up—gentle at first, then stronger. Kharon and Abaddon immediately move, herding their women back toward the safety of the courtyard walls. Their bodies form protective barriers, wings flaring out to shield the mothers and babies from whatever’s coming.
But Remus doesn’t move.
And neither do I.
We stand there, transfixed, as the wind whips faster and faster around the circle. It’s becoming a small twister right before our eyes, a localized tornado contained within those glowing blue lines. My hair whips across my face and I have to squint against the force of it, but I can’t make myself look away.
The wind stirs my clothes, pulls at my jacket, but it’s nothing—nothing—compared to what’s happening to the three people inside the circle. Their clothes are being torn by the force, fabric snapping and flapping violently. Phoenix’s dark red hair streams behind her like a banner.
And then—oh god—and then Phoenix starts torise.
Her heels lift first, toes pointed down like a ballerina. Then her toes leave the cobblestones entirely, and she’sfloating. Actually floating. Levitating in defiance of every law of physics I ever learned in my one semester of college.
First she’s one foot off the ground.
Then five feet.
Ten.
She hovers there, suspended in the center of the swirling wind and light, and even though her eyes are closed, there’s an expression of intense concentration on her face. Like she’s listening to something none of us can hear.
“I call to you, spirits.” Phoenix’s voice shouldn’t carry over the wind, but it does. It reverberates through the courtyard. Through my bones. “I call to the hungry ones. Who can help us?”
Spirits? Hungry ones?
I feel Remus tense beside me, his tail—the one that had been playfully swishing earlier when we were kissing—goes rigid.
“Does she even know what she’s doing?” Abaddon’s question rings out, loud enough to carry from his position by the wall.
“Leave her alone!” Vlad snaps, and there’s something raw in his voice. Fear, maybe. Or pride. Hard to tell with a creature that old.
We all stand frozen, watching as Phoenix floats in the middle of that massive, light-filled circle. The wind screams now, a living thing, and her hair whips so violently I’m afraid it might tear from her scalp.
She frowns suddenly, her expression shifting. Even with her eyes closed, it looks like she’sseeingsomething. Searching for something in whatever spirit realm she’s accessing.
The furrow in her brow deepens. Then, just as suddenly, it smooths out. Her face lights up with excitement—actual joy—and she shouts into the void:
“Yes! Yes, I see you!” Her voice is triumphant, ringing with power. “Come over, Devourer. Come near and devour all of it!”
Ice floods my veins.
“What the fuck?” Remus’s curse mirrors my terror exactly. “What the hell is she calling?”
“I don’t know.” Abaddon’s voice is tight, measured in that way that means he’s seconds from losing control. “But it doesn’t sound good.”
I back up a few steps, my survival instincts finally kicking in through the shock and awe. But I don’t run. I…can’trun.
I’m transfixed by what I’m seeing.
None of the others are running either. Granted, they’re immortal beings who’ve probably seen worse, and I’m very much mortal and very much could die here. But my feet stay planted. My eyes stay locked on Phoenix floating in that circle of light and wind and power.
Call it morbid curiosity. Call it the same self-destructive impulse that made me stay with Michael for seven years. Call it whatever you want—I’m not moving.
Phoenix’s eyes suddenly fly open. Wide. Panicked.
That’s when my stomach really drops.
