“Hphhmmm!”
I SCREAMED.
All I did was scream, thrash, and plead through my gag as Iarla carried me through the halls, crowing about capturing the killer, and handing out the sentence the “lying, treacherous, demon shits” denied me.
“Is that thing really a witch?”
“Was fairy boy right the whole time?”
An ever-growing crowd followed, chased, and heckled us below, but Iarla flew high and kept me out of their reach. Alongside him, three of his guard flew by his side—backing him up. He wasn’t about to lose his prize so soon after stealing it.
“Why’d they lie about him being dead?” someone in the crowd—mob—demanded.
“What are they hiding?”
“Was that pompous shit also right about Lucifer letting this thing in here to kill us all?”
“Of course I was fucking right, you empty-headed cunts!” Ravenscar really was all charm. “But don’t worry. Unlike those boots, and hooves, you lick, I don’t spout bullshit and expect you to believe it. If you want proof”—he smirked into my terrified eyes—“I’ll give you proof.”
“Hpmf! Hmmm!”
The doors to the field came upon us. Iarla didn’t need to bother opening them, because the jeering, shouting, rushing mob did it for him—shoving them open and spilling onto the dry, cracked earth.
Seeing them loose and free of the crushing, narrow hallways, my heart stopped at how many of them there were. Demons, fae, vampires, and werewolves—all braying for my death. All united in the only thing that could unite them—hate.
Iarla circled above the mob, swinging me around like a pinata. “For weeks, those running this shitheap have let us fight and kill each other in search of the truth, all while theyliedand protected this cheating, murdering worm!”
“Yeah!” they bellowed back. “Liars! Cheats! Witch-lovers!”
“We all know that Lucifer will make a deal with anyone,” Iarla crowed, whipping them up into a frenzy. “He doesn’t care with who. He doesn’t care whodiesas long as his bloodisn’t spilled. Well, are you cowardly fucks okay with that?!” he bellowed. “Are you cool withyourblood being spilled for the sake of anyone who’s willing to suck Lord Lucy’s dick?!”
“No!”
“Fuck that worm!”
“Kill it!”
Out of the corner of my eye, one of the fae guard plucked a feather and tossed it at the ground.
It happened almost instantly.
A wooden pole shot out of the ground, narrowly clubbing me in the head. At the base of the pole, wood and kindling appeared.
“No!” I went insane. Flinging, heaving, and thrashing in the ropes, I screamed through thread for someone, anyone, to stop this. “Help!”
“Burn the witch!” Iarla roared.
“Burn the witch! Burn the witch! Burn the witch!”
The chant echoed across the field.
Swooping down, Iarla dropped me on the wood pile, and the ropes came to life—immediately lashing me to the stake. Wasting no time, Ravenscar pulled out another feather, and I knew why.
That feather was all the match he needed.
“Burn the witch! Burn the witch!”
Iarla hovered before me, grinning manically into my tear-filled eyes. “What’s the matter?” he hissed as he brought the feather to his lips. “Don’t you think your sugar daddy Lucy will come save you?” He shrugged. “Oh, well, even if he doesn’t, it’s still a good day.” Evil lit in those beautiful eyes. “Because I get to watch youburn.”
