“Is this a lecture?”
“It’s a reminder, a request.” He pulls the purse from my wrist.
“We do not have time for you–”
He grasps one of the large golden pins at the front of my dress and yanks it, tearing the dress.
I grab his hand. “Use your tongue for something other than petty insults, you worthless Prince!”
Rosier glances at my hand holding his before leaning in, his cocky smirk right in my face. “This time, you’ll summon something bigger. A beast of burden for me to command. A proper monster.”
“I can’t.” I tell him, but I know that’s a lie. “I shouldn’t.”
“All this magic, and you’re holding back?” Still holding the golden safety pin, he reaches into my bag and pulls out a piece of chalk between two fingers. “Hesitation will grant us nothing.”
I take the chalk and pin before getting down on the ground to start drawing another circle. “What if I–”
“Focus,” he encourages. Rosier takes the two other stones left in my purse and sets them in the center of the circle.
“If it fails–”
“It won’t.”
Summoning the imp feels like ages ago, when it’s only been five minutes. I hope Hell doesn’t rate-limit summoning spells. Even without interplanar interference, I’m nowhere near as confident in my magic as Rosier. It figures; when I need to be impulsive, I can’t bring myself to do it. The magic circle complete in front of me, I struggle to find the words, the incantation as distant as my family magic.
Rosier joins me on the ground across from me. His hand cradles my chin and lifts my face. “You summoned me.” His gold eyes sparkle. “You, Minerva, need no one but yourself. You’ve said it yourself. Prove to the le Fays they’re weaker than you. Tear them apart. Inflict the pain your Mother felt onto them tenfold.”
So this is truly how he sees me.
I start the incantation, the words flowing as easily as a familiar song The runes begin to glow and steam as someone shouts, “Found her!” Still I keep chanting, looking at nothing but the center of the magic circle. The gold and crystal offerings start to give off plumes of smoke. Then, nothing.
I’m yanked back, sharp pain radiating across my scalp. The cold blade is flush against my throat. Rosier looks like he’s about to leap across the circle, but Nim’s girlish voice taunts, “One slip up, and her throat is bye-bye. I would stay right th–”
The sound of tearing metal interrupts her. I look down, careful to only move my eyes and not my head. A dark-clawed hand clings to the edge of the circle like whatever’s attached to it is climbing out of a manhole.
Rosier almost coos, “Come out, Udtuk.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
MINNIE
From the still smoking circle,claws dig into the stone floor, cracking it like an eggshell. A lion’s head slowly rises. Well, at least, it has the mane of a lion. The rest of its face is scaly and flat with white pupilless eyes. A permanent, painful-looking smile shows off rows of sharp, shark-like teeth. As terrifying as the creature is, impending steel against my throat takes precedent.
Udtuk looks at us with those soulless eyes as if awaiting instruction.
“Let go of me,” I say to Nim. “We don’t both have to die.”
“Shut up! I’m thinking!”
“Planning your funeral?” Rosier offers. He stands up, and Udtuk does the same, climbing out of the circle. The rest of its body is patches of matted hairs and flaking scales. It steps back to stand beside Rosier before sitting like a dog, though its knees are as tall as its shoulders.
Nim’s grip on my hair tightens, reminding me just how potent spite can be. “Your hair is ugly.”
“Your eyebrows take up half your head,” I shoot back.
“You–your dress is ugly!”
It’s scary how easily we bicker like sisters.
