I shift and palm my blades. “Come collect your death.” I beckon her forward as Melva reaches down and touches the ring set into the ground, which was disguised as the arena, creating an inescapable circle, just like the one they killed my father in.
Circe’s shoulders dip when the barrier goes up. It’s the only outward sign she’s surprised. Emotion builds in my throat until I’m not sure I will be able to speak if I need to. I’m finally going to make her pay for taking my dad from me.
My eyes are drawn to the melee on the other side of the barricade. Skirmishes are breaking out all around us. Obsidian Angels are facing off with newly revealed witches. It seems I’m not the only one who had a plan. No wonder Circe was so calm, she came prepared for a war. Unfortunately for them, I have their leader, and my club has instructions to kill anyone who tries to intervene with my business.
Circe narrows her eyes as Modeus and Cyrus move to join Egan and me as we confront her and Sade. “A truce,” she offers with her lips curled in disdain.
“This ends one way—with you and every member of your coven dead. Watch them burn.” I motion to the field beyond my trap. Witches are fighting, some with spells and curses, others with bare hands, but the sheer number and brutality of my club is rapidly overrunning the weaker creatures. “How long do you think they will last?” I know I’m poking at her, and that’s dangerous. Melva warned me the circle would only stop a witch from reaching outside the walls for magic, but it wouldn’t stop them from utilizing any spells or curses they had with them. I can’t help myself though. I want her to understand she should have never fucked with the Obsidian Angels.
Lightning fast, Circe flicks out her wrist and mumbles words I’ll never understand. A light flares, and I have enough time for a single second of regret to register before it hits Modeus’ chest when he shoves me out of the way.
A feral scream leaves my lips when he falls to the ground. I shift and spring forward, my blades already in my hands, and rush Circe. Her hands are waving and her lips are moving as if she’s trying to cast while backing away.
Her mouth pops open as I use my wings to pull her into a tight embrace. My blessed blade is already in her heart, so I twist the handle while I watch her eyes dull.
“Lorelei!” Cyrus bellows my name, so I release Circe and turn around. His eyes are peeled wide, and his hand is reaching for me. I move to take a step and feel pain in my lower stomach. When I look down, there’s a knife handle protruding from my gut. I blink several times, not understanding, but then my legs give out, and I’m looking up at Egan’s face, which is contorted in rage.
“It’s okay,” I try to tell him, but I’m not sure if my mouth is working. All I can hear is whooshing in my ears, like I’m on the shore and it’s high tide.
Egan
Lore reactswhen the prince goes down. Her blade is in the witch’s heart so fast, she doesn’t have time to complete the curse she was weaving. The quick surge of relief I feel when the threat is gone evaporates the moment the scent of Lore’s blood fills the air.
Cyrus yells, confirming something is wrong, but it’s already too late. I watch Lore’s brow furrow when she looks down, and then she’s falling and I’m almost not fast enough to catch her.
When she blinks up at me, her eyes are already half closed and blood bubbles from her lips as she tries to speak.
Cyrus’ yells echo around the invisible barrier Lore’s witch erected. He’s clawing at the air as if he may be able to rip it down by sheer will alone. The wolf’s mate is dead on the ground not far from the gargoyle’s feet, while the prince is either dead or close to it. How did I allow this to happen?
I examine the handle of the blade in Lore’s stomach, but I don’t need to. The only knife with the ability to pierce her stone exterior is a blessed blade forged by angels. “What the fuck are you doing?” Cyrus shoves my shoulder, and I list to the side, unprepared for the blow. My hand was already locked around the hilt, so it dislodges the knife, and blood starts gushing from her wound.
I spare a second and level him with a glare. If Lore wasn’t already gravely injured, I would rip off his goddamned wings.
The blood seeping from her stomach isn’t what concerns me, it’s the smell. I bring the blade up to my nose, and the acidic odor of ammonia burns my nostrils. I bolt upright, grab the gargoyle, and stare right into his eyes.Hemlock,I scream over and over again in my head, hoping he can hear me.
My ears pop as the circle is broken. I look at the white-haired witch Lore had set her trap, and with no way to speak to her, I feel absolutely fucking helpless for the first time in my long existence.
“Hemlock,” Cyrus says softly, and I pat my mouth so hard, my tooth pierces my lip as I ask him to repeat it just in case. “Hemlock!” he says again, louder.
The witch crouches near Lore’s side and probes the wound until more blood soaks the ground beneath her. “We need to get her to a healer fast.” Melva looks up at me, but there’s no hope in her gaze. I scoop Lore up from the sand and fly as fast as my wings will allow to Reaper’s place. Brass wasn’t in any condition to be moved, so the healer stayed there with him.
After landing on the porch, I kick the door in and dash up the stairs. The two healers are backed up against the wall when I enter the room, but they spring into action when they see me holding Lore and realize I’m not here to kill them.
I place Lore on the floor and use the tip of my nail to carve “Hemlock” into the wood near her head. Before I can give them room to examine her, Lore’s back jerks off the floor as she starts thrashing around with a seizure. The healer grabs Lore’s head, but she’s not strong enough to restrain her, so I push her away and take Lore back in my arms. I can feel her blood seeping into my pants, so I hold her even tighter.
“How much did she ingest?” the healer asks, peeling open Lore’s eyelids the moment the convulsions stop. I roll out my arms and allow her to see the wound in Lore’s abdomen. “I need to flush it.” She peers up at me like I might bite her hand off.
I jerk my arms, telling her to hurry, but it jostles Lore, so I freeze.
“You need to take her home. The witch is meeting us there.” Cyrus pants. He arrived faster than I expected. “You. Get what you need. I’ll take you.”
The healer stands up abruptly and pats her pockets as if she’s looking for something, then she bends to grab a large bag. “Call Paden and Halla. I’ll need help,” she instructs the other healer.
Just as quickly as I arrived, I leave, rushing to the church, where I slip through the large back window. From there, I ease through the hidden door on the third floor to the attic. I swear the house lets out a sigh when I place Lore on the floor. I carefully strip her clothing off, just like she did for the gargoyle, then put her head in my lap, waiting for the others to arrive.
Cyrus
I chasethe healer up the stairs. I’m certain the shifter has never moved faster. Egan looks up when we enter the room with eyes so bleak, I want to turn around and run, just so I don’t have to see the desolation on his face.
