“Give it back!” I snarl.
He ignores me, turning the porcelain over in his hands. He inspects it, clicking his tongue when he notices a few scratches along its left cheek. “Look what you’ve done. One of my best works, and you’ve gone and scuffed it.”
I grit my teeth. “Where are they?”
“Who?”
“My humans.”
“Does it matter?” There’s a conniving glint in his eyes. Sonam’s eyes. I hate how he’s managed to twist them into something malicious. The Maskmaker grins that much wider. “I presume your little friends are dead by now. My army has been hungry for a very long time. Who am I to deny them?”
My rage almost gets the better of me, but then I think carefully. He’s lying. If Sonam is dead, then the magic binding me to my vows would have struck me down, too. He is alive somewhere. For how much longer, I cannot say, but at least not all hope is lost. I never thought I’d see the day when the deal I struck with Sonam would prove more help than hindrance.
There’s movement behind the Maskmaker. We’re not alone. There are too many demons to count—maybe a hundred, if I had to venture a guess—milling about the empty room of the pavilion they’ve dragged me into. An army, as he called it, flitting about insilence as they organize a massive pile of shining porcelain disks in the middle of the floor.
Masks. Thousands of them. Faces of men and women, young and old. It seems the Maskmaker has crafted quite the collection since we parted ways.
But to what end?
“Where are we? Let me go.” My words burn, my throat too tight. I can hardly breathe now that I’m trapped in the snake’s crushing embrace.
“No.”
“What do you want with me?”
“What do I want?” The Maskmaker laughs. “You, of course. I’ve been so worried about my little runaway. Let’s let bygones be bygones, and I’ll promise to take you back.”
I snarl. “Why would I ever want you to take me back?”
“My spies tell me that you’ve searched high and low for me. I’m sure you’re eager to apologize.”
“Apologize?” I shriek. “You had my sisters killed!” My six obsidian eyes sting with the threat of tears. There’s so much pressure inside my skull I fear they’ll burst from their sockets like grapes crushed in one’s fist.
“Yes, I did,” he replies matter-of-factly, not a trace of remorse to be found.
“But why?” I rasp. “Why did you—”
“You disobeyed me, Yue. I had to punish you.”
I may be a demon, born of shadows and an eater of flesh, but there’s nothing more terrifying than a god without feeling. I tremble beneath his dead stare, hating his use of Sonam’s face against me.
“All you had to do was listen,” the Maskmaker continues. “The blame falls on you.”
“No, that’s—”
He leans in close, just out of reach of my powerful jaws. “Was I not good to you? I masked you. Fed you. Loved you. And how did you repay me? By stealing my most prized mask and running off into the night.Youmade me do it.”
Errant tears streak my face, soaking into my fur. No matter how hard I try to shrink from his gaze, there’s no escape. Doubt creeps into my mind. It’s true that the Maskmaker once cared for me. He saved my life. Protected me from those who would do me harm. All he asked was that I eat. That I do what demons do best. What if I did bring this upon myself? What if my sisters are dead because of my own stubbornness?
“There’s no need to cry,” he says. “As I said, I’m willing to forgive you.” He chuckles to himself. “I thank fate for sending you after me.”
I bite my tongue. “You do?”
“I have use for your teeth when we finally return to the surface.”
His words pull me from my thoughts. I stare at him in confusion. The mortal realm? What could he possibly…
I look around and take in all the ingredients of the Maskmaker’s recipe. An army of starving demons with an arsenal of faces to conceal their true nature would spell disaster for mankind. There’s no telling how many thousands that they’ll consume while disguised, and by the time the humans and even the Heavens above realize what’s come to pass, it will be too late. They’ll be overrun. Not even the formidable Demon Hunter of Jian will be able to put a stop to it.
