My daughters were such disappointments. Foolish, impulsive, and reckless, yes. But notentirelyuseless. Even fools could be dangerous in death, if one knew how to leverage their stupidity. My thoughts unfurled with ruthless precision, assessing, measuring. For five years, I had siphoned magic from Jonathan, from Serafina, from others whenever I could. My stockpile was impressive. If the twins had spoken of it before they died, if someone had the wits to put the pieces together, they might just figure out my intentions.
Or not.
They would need to find someone who knew Dark magic intimately. Not easy, but not impossible, either. My plans might not be as secure as I’d believed.
I needed confirmation.
But not before reminding Foster of his place,I decided, smiling to myself.
I pulled out my phone and dialed. Ondine Filcher’s voice crackled over the line like gravel underfoot, confirming what I already suspected: Eluned, then Amabel went through her pool to the lake at Evermere. I expected nothing less from the old water hag. Her curiosity was palpable, but she knew better than to ask why I wanted to know, although shediddare to taunt me.
“You’re down two pawns, Harrow.” Her laugh bubbled wetly.
The old hag wouldn’t wake up tomorrow. I’d deal with her personally.
For now, though, it was time to be sure.
Once in my office, Foster on my heels, I found my scrying mirror missing. My demon favor token was gone as well, whichexplained a great deal. He quickly explained that Amabel had been rooting around in here before she left for Ondine’s.
The audacity was breathtaking. So was the stupidity. I indulged in a quiet moment of reflection, appreciating my daughters’ last, futile acts of defiance.
No time for guesswork. I needed something with true sight. Either a demon or the Witch of Endor.
Hmm. Which one, which one?
Naomi Wray was the new Endor, promoted just last year. A goody two-shoes with more morals than not. The only way I’d getthatnecromancer to help me was through manipulation or coercion, and I had time and patience for neither. No. A demon would be more suitable, especially one with a fondness for human souls.
“Bring Austin Cho to the basement,” I ordered. That kitchen boy would finally be of use to me.
Foster’s face was a masterpiece of confusion, but I let him wonder. He nodded and left, and I watched him go, feeling plans and possibilities settling into place.
Lovely.
#
“Ms. Harrow?” Austin’s Korean accent thickened with confusion. “Am I being fired?”
“Not at all. We’re promoting you, Mr. Cho. Stand just here.”
The chalk sigils flared cobalt as I began the incantation. Foster stumbled back as the floor swallowed my shadow whole. Austin’s whimper hit high C when the demon peeled itself from between realities, a thing of jagged light and pointed teeth from too many orifices.
“Mistresssss.” Its voice layered a child’s laughter over breaking glass. “What delicious pain do we trade today?”
“The usual trifles. This one’s soul,” I gestured to Austin, now trembling from head to toe, “for answers.”
The boy’s scream began as his eyes met the creature’s. It ended as a golden vapor curled out of Austin’s mouth and into the demon’s nostrils. Interestingly, Foster appeared both angry and outraged as he caught the body before it hit the floor.
“The twins. Their fates. And what they revealed before they died,” I inquired as the demon belched starlight.
“The younger one burns eternally. The elder breathes still.” Its many mouths smacked in unison. “What was or is spoken now, none can tell but the ears that heard. Too great are the wards at Evermere.”
As its tendrils probed Foster’s boots, I processed this, my expression smooth as glass. Then, slowly, a smile curled at the edges of my lips. A cold, slow smile that held no warmth. Betrayal didn’t anger me. It amused me.
“Interesting. A challenge.”
With a flick of my wrist, the demon dissolved into the shadows, its laughter lingering in the air.
Looking very upset about the body lying on the concrete floor, Foster shifted, his throat working around unasked questions.
