“G-ma?” Scotty looked around, seemingly confused by the sight of ghastbats dive-bombing the hellhound reinforcements charging down the cliffside. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. But we’re safe.” Even more hellhounds phased onto the beach to join the massacre, so many that the sand disappeared beneath the writhing, slashing beasts. Screeches of rage and pain filled the air as the hounds tore the ghastbats apart, though not always before losing a chunk of flesh or suffering a pierced eyeball. Howhadthe ghastbats andmordaemongotten here? “Can you tell me what happened?”
Scotty wriggled out of Harvester’s arms and scrambled to her feet, her little fists clenched defiantly, as if she wanted to take on the creatures herself. “The monsters came. What are they?”
“They’re called ghastbats.” Harvester watched two hounds rip one in half during a round of tug-of-war. “They normally live in Sheoul. I don’t know why they’re here or where they came from.”
Scotty’s face turned bright red, and she looked down at her feet.
Shit. Harvester reached out and took the girl’s hand. “Scotty?”
“They…they came out of the Harrowgate,” she whispered.
Alarm stabbed Harvester right in the heart. A gate malfunction could expose the entire island to the worst kinds of demons. Her family would be in incredible danger.
“They flew out of the gate by themselves?” That shouldn’t be possible. Ghastbats couldn’t operate the controls.
“It’s not my fault,” Scotty cried, yanking her hand out of Harvester’s. “She told me to open it. I thought it was going to be a surprise!”
The hair on the back of Harvester’s neck stood up as her wings shot out and lifted her to her feet. Fear made her voice harsh. “Who told you to open it?”
Scotty buried her face in her hands. “My friend,” she mumbled between sniffles.
“Your invisible one?” At Scotty’s nod, a frisson of suspicion skittered across the surface of Harvester’s mind.
Dammit. This was exactly why she’d told Ares and Cara to get a handle on the invisible-friend situation. Invisible friends might be common coping mechanisms for human children, but immortal children, especially those with powerful parents, were at high risk of being targeted by supernaturals with evil intentions.
“Listen to me, Scotty,” she said. “This person is not your friend.”
Scotty started bawling, and Harvester, who rarely experienced guilt, felt her heart squeeze painfully hard. “I’m sorry, sweetie. But she’s not—”
“I know!” Scotty shouted. “She made those things attack me. I jumped off the cliff to escape, but I don’t remember what happened after that.”
She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Lilu said…she said, ‘Goodbye, you snot-nosed insect.’” Her lower lip trembled. “She’s mean.”
She was also as good as dead once Harvester got a hold of the bitch. This Lilu person must—
Harvester’s train of thought took an abrupt detour at a sudden, devastating suspicion. “Did you say, Lilu? That’s her name?”
Scotty slapped her hand across her mouth. “She told me not to tell,” she mumbled.
Of course, she had.Liluwouldn’t have wanted anyone to research that foul name. A name that harkened back to Mesopotamian demon times. A name whose female form, Lilitu, was eventually translated.
Into Lilith.
Lilith.
Fury steamed through Harvester’s veins. But it didn’t make sense. Lilith had died years ago, and her soul was sent to Sheoul-gra a couple of years before the purgatory’s destruction. Yes, Azagoth had demolished Sheoul-gra and released billions of demonic spirits to wage war, but surely he hadn’t been stupid enough to releaseLilith. Not when theresponsible thing would have been to destroy her soul.
But then, the Grim Reaper had been inconsolable and irrational when his very pregnant wife disappeared, kidnapped by an enemy bent on vengeance. He would have used every powerful demon he controlled to get her back…including Lilith.
Shit. If Lilith was alive—corporeal—again, that bitch would want to take revenge on her Horsemen offspring. And how better to torture them than to kill their children?
Harvester thought about the time her grandson, Logan, son of the Horseman known as Death, had been attacked by a demonic storm. If not for a hellhound protector, he might have died.
Had that been Lilith’s work as well? Had she found a way to contact Scotty through some sort of telepathy? She could have been tricking the girl for months. Maybe even longer, if Scotty hadn’t been truthful about how long she’d had an “invisible friend.”
“It’s okay, Scotty.” Harvester sent a wave of lightning bolts at a swarm of ghastbats, watching them fall from the sky. “I’m going to get rid of Lilu for you, okay?”
