I stopped.
Of course MJ wouldn’t put him back in his cell. Why would I think she would when she knew he wasn’t a threat to us?
Only Lucille.
My shadows writhed inside me, eager to rip apart his brain. They burst from my hands, slamming against the walls and scraping the stone as they clawed toward the dungeon doors—seeking, hunting. They’d already had a taste of his blood. It was in us now. Forever. It didn’t matter where he went; my shadows could hunt him down.
“Did you bring down more handsome prisoners?” Anya, our dead human nuisance, asked, breaking me from my murderous reverie.
“No. Infected. They’ve been bitten.”
“By?”
“Damned that have been infected.”
There was movement in her cell. “They’re still out there even though you killed Lilith?”
I turned. She was pressed up against her cell bars. Her long black hair fell around her green turtleneck, the same length it had been since her soul arrived in the Redemption Circle. Her pale face appeared grime-free, courtesy of the supplies I provided her. Twenty years ago, when the gates were last open, she could’ve avoided this fate if she had let Lucifer redeem her. Yet she chose to stay in these dungeons out of fear.
“How do you know who we killed? Is this part of your so-called divination?”
“You don’t believe humans have divination.”
She was right. Angels and demons were the only species I was taught had power. Recently, I had to alter that view to include witches. I’d never believed in them. I’d always thought it was a term used for humans who played with herbs and spoke riddles, convincing people they had power. Even Magda, the witch in Elora, I believed to be a demon masquerading under the guise of one. Easier to lure in prey when one called themselves a witch versus a demon.
As for Lilith, I’d always thought she was both a demon and the creator of demons. I’d never heard of the term blood-witch until the day we killed her. I was still having a difficult time believing what she said she was.
If she had been a witch, then how did Lucifer not know? Wouldn’t he have heard of her kind? He said he hadn’t.
“The handsome one talks in his sleep,” Anya offered.
Sleep?
The pet didn’t look like he had been sleeping.
“But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t believe in divination.” Anya stared at me for a long moment, the seriousness reflected in her tone matching her face.
It made me pause long enough to consider her words.
“Maybe.” There were a few things I didn’t believe in and should have. Like the fact the Damned, the souls tortured in the lowest circles, could even breach the Redemption Circle, let alone be infected. Or that someone could be bonded to two people. I turned, heading to find the missing pet.
“Remember what I told you a few weeks ago. Don’t get attached,” she called after me, her voice echoing up the stairs.
“Too late,” I whispered.
Releasing my shadows, we hunted the pet’s blood signature. It wasn’t hard. His practically sang and vibrated with the energy of his heavenly fire. The vibrations of his blood were almost as extreme as Lucille’s.
And they led me right to her rooms.
My shadows raced beneath the door before I could leash them—orso I told myself. There was a grunt, then a bang, and I couldn’t hold back my smirk.
Opening her door, I noted I needed to create a shadow lock on her handle. It’d help keep out unwanted pests. Then I laid cold eyes on him.
Thrust up against the wallpaper, he struggled against my strangling shadows, not even attempting to burn them away. Pathetic. They’d kill him if I let them. I was tempted, but her room wouldn’t be the place I’d do it.
I walked toward him, taking my time, enjoying his choking. When I reached him, I leaned in and placed my face right next to his ear.
“What the fuck are you doing in her rooms?” I asked calmly, lightening my shadows’ hold. They resisted me at first, but eventually gave in to my control.
