The dark elves are thousands of years old. Jonah, too, is ancient. But it seems that Halle and Emil are speaking about matters that even the elves and Jonah aren’t familiar with.
Halle’s chest is rising and falling rapidly. She presses her hand to her heart. “Dark saints, save us all.”
Her focus finally settles on me, and for a moment, her death-goddess appearance reasserts itself, her eyes turning red and her charred bones becoming visible beneath her skin.
Then, her hesitation seems to break.
“Well, then, I have no good choices.” She clicks her fingers at the hounds. “Take Veda into custody. Quickly!”
“What?” The shocked exclamation leaves my lips before I chastise myself for it.
Of course, she would turn on me sooner or later, even if I don’t understand exactly what has caused her to do so now.
The hounds surge forward, masses of molten muscle that remind me of how badly Jonah’s power can burn me.
If these hounds are creatures of old magic—which is very possible—then their fire will hurt me as badly as light magic can.
My pack responds by taking battle stances around me. Lucian keeps his wings tucked tightly to his sides, but I take comfort from the glittering ends of each of his feathers. They’re edged with stone and can be used like blades if he sweeps them through the air quickly enough.
Anarchy and her brothers all hiss like the panthers they appear to be on the verge of transforming into.
My hands fly up, claws still extended, preparing to slash at the first opportunity. If it were only me and the hounds, I’d have more room to move, but as it is, I’ll need to be careful I don’t hurt my allies.
At the same moment, I’m conscious of Emil crowding in behind me, as if he’ll press me forward. But of course, he’ll help the hounds capture me.
It’s clear to me now that he brought me here to be caged.
I snarl back at Halle as her hounds close the gap far faster than I would like. “I won’t go easily, Hel.”
“Veda, I’m deeply sorry,” she replies, the sight of tears in her eyes shocking me. “But your father was right about one thing: you should not exist.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Before the hounds can get anywhere near me, Jonah darts between them and me.
I’m surprised by the level of anger in his voice.
“Think carefully before you make another move,” he says.
While the hounds slow their approach, Halle scoffs. “Jonah, dear, you know as well as I do that you can’t burn me to ash.”
Shortly before we went to the church, Jonah was Halle’s prisoner. She captured him because she thought he would be able to tell her where her brother, James, was.
He probably can. But he didn’t.
If I look carefully, I can still see the wound at the side of his face where Halle must have taken out her feelings on him earlier. She has the ability to leave scars where other supernaturals can’t. And because her true form consists of ash, he can’t burn her.
The expression on his face when he glances back at me tells me he’s less-than-impressed to be facing Halle again. But he doesn’t appear deterred.
Jonah has ice-blond hair and amber eyes that blaze with determination. His skin is fair, his shoulders are broad, and his physique is muscular.
“I may not be able to burn you, Hel, but I can certainly hurt your hounds,” he snarls back at Halle. “I hope you’re not attached to them.”
With that, the heat radiating from Jonah’s body increases rapidly, becoming so hot that it suddenly feels like we’re back on the beach and standing under a scorching sun.
The lava lines on the hounds’ chests pale in comparison. They draw to an abrupt halt, faltering between Halle and Jonah, and glancing back at Halle—no doubt for instructions.
Her brow is deeply furrowed. “Donotthreaten my hounds, Jonah.”
