And she supposed she understood why Erish hated humans with such a deep and relentless passion. Look at what humans had done to her sister. But Erish should have been happy in Lilinor, reigning as queen.
Maybe it was true what Caine had said, that Ambrose had fallen out of love with her. Maybe she was driven by an insatiable hunger, like the one the harpies had instilled in Rosalind—a void gnawing at her from the inside out—and only the devotion of a beautiful man could fill it. A biting, ravening hunger, one that could be filled with worship alone.
Maybe Caine wasn’t the only ravener.
As she dragged Tammi to the altar, cold rain slid down Rosalind’s skin, and she shivered. The Ravener. Part of her didn’t want to know what he’d done. Part of her thought she already knew, but when her mind tried to put a name to it, tried to label the vision, an iron fist shoved the thoughts back into their cage.
As she approached the altar, she stilled her march. Erish had returned, dragging another human woman with her—a middle-aged woman with frizzy brown hair, wearing mom jeans and a floral T-shirt. She looked like she could be someone’s mother, or third-grade teacher.
Terrified, the woman thrashed; Rosalind gritted her teeth. The plan was for her to simply drag Tammi’s half-comatose body over near Erish, and then wait until Caine turned the succubus into aerosolized flesh. But Caine wasn’t there yet, and in the meantime here was someone’s mom screaming for her life while a succubus slammed an iron cuff around her throat, pinning her to the stone slab.
Caine had given her a whole spiel about not letting her emotions cloud her judgment, how loyalty could be a weakness. And she wasn’t sure where her loyalties lay—humans or demons, Athertons or incubi—but she was pretty sure right now they lay with this woman in her floral top, with her cracked Coke-bottle glasses, shrieking up at the storm clouds.
The thought nearly shattered her mind—but what if it was already too late to turn Tammi human again?
It wasn’t too late for this woman in front of them.
Rosalind edged closer to the succubus, who slammed a fist into the woman’s face, then clamped the iron ring around her neck.
Maybe there was a chance to save her.
Rosalind closed her eyes. Cleo… Help me get this woman out of here, and I’ll let you out to play.
The woman scratched at Erish’s face until the succubus forced down her hands. But Cleo’s green aura was already roiling in Rosalind’s chest, and she chatted the Angelic words—a spell for iron and chains. Rosalind’s eyes remained locked on the woman, whose entire body was wracked by sobs.
As Erish began a spell of her own, the woman’s hair blanched and grew longer, her skin paling.
Rosalind finished the final words of the spell, and iron binding the woman’s neck creaked and ground, bending away from her body. Erish’s eyes widened, and her surprise gave the woman just enough time to slug her. Erish staggered back, wiping the blood from her lip, her feral eyes on the woman as she jumped from the stone slab, trying to flee across the courtyard. She wouldn’t make it far before the keres slaughtered her.
Rosalind changed spells, chanting a spell for invisibility that targeted the woman, and the woman’s body shimmered out of view. Gods knew if she’d find her way out of the fortress, but at least she’d been given the chance.
Rosalind let out a long, slow breath, but when she looked back at the succubus, Erish’s midnight gaze was right on her. Her body tensed, her grasp tightening on Tammi’s waist. She stood only two feet from Erish, and she was supposed to be invisible. But at Erish’s gaze, her blood went cold. It seemed Erish could see auras, too—a gift from The One Who Is All.
The succubus’s roar rumbled off the castle walls, and she leapt over the altar. Rosalind released Tammi, reaching for her sword—but she didn’t get to it in time. Erish grabbed for her neck, squeezing hard—so hard Rosalind thought her throat might collapse into her spine. Fuck. She’s going to kill me.
Erish leaned in closer. “Is that you, Rosalind? Little Hunter? Are you here to try to kill me?”
Rosalind’s windpipe was being crushed, and pain ripped apart her lungs.
“I belong to The One Who Is All now,” Erish hissed. “Blodrial’s veins give us true life.”
Rosalind kicked Erish’s shins. She has lost her fucking mind, and I’m about to die.
Cleo, give me strength. Rosalind slammed her hands down on Erish’s wrists, pulling them away from her neck and smashing her boot into Erish’s stomach. The succubus doubled over for a split second—just enough time for Rosalind to pull out her sword before the succubus sprang up again.
Rosalind swung for Erish, but the creature ducked with breathtaking speed, her colored aura whipping out of her body. Wrath blazed in her darkened eyes, and she slammed Rosalind in the face with her fist. Rosalind staggered back, dropping her sword.
“The One Who Is All claims you.” She grabbed Rosalind by the shoulders, lifting her into the air and throwing her down on the rock.
Rosalind’s head cracked against the granite, agony splintering her skull. She pushed herself up on her elbows, but Erish slammed her down again. As Erish clamped an iron cuff on her arm, she flexed her wrist, making it larger. This was the one legacy her abusive, adoptive father had given her—a serious skill at getting out of restraints. She hated being bound.
She gritted her teeth, trying to keep her cool and grasped with her free hand for a hawthorn stake in her belt. But she didn’t get it out before Erish slammed her other wrist down. Rosalind thought her heart was going to break her ribs. Holy hells.
Erish’s dark eyes seemed unfocused, frantic.
Rain poured over Rosalind’s skin, and rage bubbled in her chest. Stay focused, Rosalind. “Why are you doing this?” she shouted.
Erish leaned in closer. “Do you know how many succubi once roamed the earth?”
“No.”
“There were thousands of us. We were once revered as sacred, as goddesses. Now, only four remain. The world fears women with power. Remember that, after I turn you into a ker. I watched seven of my sisters—and our mother, Lilith—tortured to death. My sister Shamhat decorates Maremount’s drinking fountain. It’s not enough to crush us into submission in life. They must humiliate us in death, too. And yet the incubi still live. It’s time for the tide to turn. I will have my own army now.”
Rosalind relaxed her wrists, making her hands as narrow as possible, and began to shimmy them out. She needed to keep Erish talking, just long enough so she could fully pry her hands from the bindings.
In the stormy skies above, the harpies began to shriek and wail—screaming at her? At Caine? It was something about a murder, something about the true king and queen. Rosalind crushed her hands together. “Why do you need the army of keres?”
Erish leaned in closer, her breath sweet. Rainwater poured down her stunning, almond skin, and she threaded her fingers into Rosalind’s hair. “To defend me. To help me rule.”
“Why did you torture the keres in Lilinor? You cut off their wings.” Keep talking, you lunatic.
“The keres once served succubi. But they’re a disloyal race. They abandoned us when the world stopped revering us as goddesses. The keres have been punished.”
The iron scraped Rosalind’s skin as she tugged her hands out. If Erish kept leaning in close, she might not notice Rosalind’s arms slowly shifting. “Surely Ambrose will protect you. He’s powerful.”
“I can’t rely on him anymore.” Rain slicked Erish’s eyelashes into peaks and dripped from the ends; her midnight eyes took on a glazed look. “He’s grown tired of me after five hundred years. His gaze turns to little human things like you.” Her fingers slid around Rosalind’s throat, and she leaned down. “So I’ve found a new protector. Drew, and my army of keres. He wants to marry you. But he won’t once I turn you into a ker. Everyone likes the human girls.”
Rosalind felt the base of her palm slip through the iron loop—though it felt as if her bones were being crushe
d and she was taking off a layer of skin. “Of course you need protection,” she said, hoping to keep Erish focused on her. “It isn’t fair for so much to be taken from you.” She hoped her words sounded genuine—and deep down, part of her did feel sorry for the succubi.
Erish’s gaze met hers. “The One Who Is All has given me new powers. I can see auras now, and smell them. I drink from Blodrial’s veins, and I can create new demons, using the magic of the seven. And now no one will be able to hurt me. No one will be able to wipe the last of the succubi from the earth’s surface.”
She’s really pouring her heart right out. The succubus seemed lonely as hell, like this was the first conversation she’d had in months.
“That sounds like a reasonable plan,” Rosalind said, trying to force her knuckles through the gap.
Erish’s eyes swiveled to hers, and Rosalind read in them a flash of madness. She was left with the distinct impression that Drew was right about Erish—the iron god’s blood had twisted her mind. Demons were never meant to drink from his veins. “Drew wants you to be his wife,” the succubus said plaintively.
Rosalind strained against the iron cuffs. Rainwater and sweat slicked her hands, and she nearly had them out.
Erish leaned in closer, rain spilling down her skin and onto Rosalind’s body. She cupped Rosalind’s face, almost lovingly. “I like you. You’ll make a lovely ker in my legion. Together, we’ll make a new world.”
Erish began to chant her spell, her aura whipping around her body, and Rosalind felt it rush over her skin, climbing up her bare legs, hot and cold at the same time. Her heart hammered, and with one frantic, skin-ripping tug, she tore her hands free.
Erish screamed, trying to push her down again, but Rosalind was already chanting Cleo’s battle fury spell, and raw power blazed. She pulled a hawthorn stake from her belt, ramming it into Erish’s chest, up beneath her ribs, and right into her heart. Blood spurted from the queen’s chest.
The succubus staggered back. She should have collapsed, half-dead, onto the ground; instead, she pulled the hawthorn stake from her chest. The auras whirled from her body—only the silver dimming.
Oh, shit. So this is why they were impervious to magic and the usual weapons. You could extinguish one type of magic, but the other gods still protected her. Rosalind had only snuffed out the shadow magic.
Rosalind reached behind her back, drawing her sword. She swung it in a rapid arc, slicing through Erish’s neck, severing her spine. Crimson blood arced in the air. The queen’s beautiful head thudded onto the stone, her body crumpling.
Rosalind swallowed hard, looking down at the body. Erish might look dead, but she wouldn’t be until Rosalind carved her heart from her chest. But before she could plunge her blade into Erish’s chest, the keres unleashed rumbling growls that trembled over the stone walls. At the sound of the keres springing to life, a shudder ran over Rosalind’s skin.
She whirled, gripping her sword and staring at the snarling keres. They prowled forward, teeth bared, and ice inched up Rosalind’s spine. She was about to meet the keres’ wrath. Raising her sword, she gripped it tight. She needed a spell, but even with the Morrigan’s battle fury spell she couldn’t kill this many keres. Plus, she didn’t want to slaughter Tammi in the melee. She could scuttle up the walls again, but the damned keres could fly.
A line of keres at the front of the horde beat their wings, rising into the air. They were blocking her in.
Rosalind’s gaze slid to the wooden door that Erish had used. She pivoted, then broke into a sprint, her feet pounding through the mud. The keres screeched, and Rosalind ripped open the door, slamming it shut. She bolted the iron lock. The keres slammed against it, hacking into the old wood with their claws.
Frantically, Rosalind looked around. She stood in a long, marble corridor. To her right, a stairwell curved up.
Let’s start here. She ran up the curving stairwell. She needed to get to the walkway—from there, she might be able to get a better view of whatever the hell Caine was doing, and she’d be able to tell exactly where Tammi was.
Hurrying, she sprinted up the stairs, adrenaline and the battle spell fueling her speed. Seven flights up, she could hear the keres footsteps echoing up the stairwell, pounding against the stone like a hundred battle drums.
She pulled open the wooden door at the top of the stairs, sprinting onto the walkway. A shadow loomed over her, and she glanced overhead. The keres’ heavy, black wings whipped the stormy air. The iron gray sky was unleashing a torrent of rain, turning the courtyard into mud.
A loud slam turned her head. The keres had slammed through the wooden door, onto the walkway.
They’re here. Rosalind climbed to the top of the battlement, her eyes scanning for Tammi.
A screeching ker swooped in the air above her, and Rosalind caught a glimpse of crimson nails.
With a thundering heart, she crouched down, and leapt.
She grasped Tammi around the waist, and her friend—or what was left of her—screeched, raining punches onto Rosalind’s arms. Rosalind held on tight, chanting the teleportation spell, letting her vernal aura charge the air and curl around Tammi in waves of green. Rosalind’s body hummed with the spell’s power.
In the next moment, they were by the four stakes again.
Screaming, the ker—Tammi—careened for the ground. Just as they were about to make a hard landing, Rosalind reached up and ripped the iron chain from her friend’s throat.
They slammed into the mud, tumbling. The impact knocked the wind out of Rosalind. Catching her breath, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees. The strength spell was wearing off, and her entire body was on fire. It took a moment for her to remember what was going on.
Tammi.
Still on her knees, she turned to look at her friend, certain she would see Tammi’s familiar blond hair and blue eyes.
But it was a silver-eyed ker who stared back at her, and the only thing Rosalind recognized was the chipped Rouge Dior polish on her toes.
Chapter 27
T he ker—Tammi—stared at her, starlight beaming from her eyes. The multicolored aura still whirled from her body.
It took Rosalind a moment to remember that she was invisible, and she chanted a spell to bring her body back into view.
But Tammi wasn’t looking at her. Tammi was looking down at her black claws, her fingers trembling. She still looked like a ker—yet something about her had changed. Her eyes had a new life to them, and her mouth was opened in distinctly humanlike horror.
Her body groaning, Rosalind stood. “Tammi?”
Tammi continued to stare at herself, turning to try to catch a glimpse of the black wings sprouting from her back. “What the fuck?” she demanded, her voice breaking.
“Tammi!” Relief flooded Rosalind. Her friend didn’t look the same—but that was definitely Tammi. She ran over to Tammi and hugged her, trying to avoid the black wings.
Her friend’s body was shaking uncontrollably. Rosalind stepped away, looking Tammi over. Gods, it was good to see her—even if she looked like a ker. “We can probably get you changed back,” Rosalind said. “I’m sure there’s a spell…” She trailed off.
Tammi looked down, her fingertips running just below her new breasts. “Are these real?” She stared at Rosalind. “What the fuck, though. Am I a monster?”
Rosalind shook her head. “No. You look different, that’s all.”
Tammi touched her long, pointed teeth. “These will have to go.” She splayed her fingers. “And the nails.”
“You actually look very beautiful,” Rosalind said.
Tammi pulled open the top of her dress, peering down. “I mean, it’s not the worst thing but…” She looked up, her features clearing. “What the fuck happened? The last thing I remember was being in a prison in that fortress. And then the succubus… I was really hoping you’d come for me, Rosalind.”
Rosalind lifted her shoulders. “Well, I did. Just… not as soon as I should have. I didn’t
know where you were.” Rosalind’s legs were shaking, too. All the magic she’d been using was draining the life right out of her.
Tammi glanced at the stakes. “Where are we? Why are we here?”
Ankle-deep in mud, Rosalind began pacing. “We’re still in Maremount. I need to go back for Caine and Miranda. I’m not sure what happened to them. Caine was supposed to grab Miranda and destroy Erish, but he never showed up in the courtyard.”
Tammi rubbed her temples. “Hang on. I’m extremely disoriented. The last thing I remember was that succubus bitch—”
“—she’s creating an army of keres.” Rosalind completed her friend’s thought. “Do you remember anything that will help me if I go back there? How the magic works, or where they were keeping Miranda?”
Tammi’s brow furrowed. “Snippets. Flashes of things…” She shook her head. “I remember more from when I was human in the prison cells. They had us all crammed into cells below the fortress, built into the rock. It was damp down there. Pretty sure some people had trench foot.” She hugged herself, shivering. “Anyway, an old woman said she’d overheard the guards talking. Miranda was in one of the towers, but not in a cell like ours. She was heavily protected. Giants, harpies, wraiths—Drew didn’t want her getting out.” Her silver gaze met Rosalind’s. “Maybe Drew was expecting Caine to come for her. From what I heard, he’s been building his power. He plays games with people. He lures people into traps.”
Rosalind’s body tensed. “And you think all this could be a trap? He really seems to hate Caine.” She turned, pacing. “Do you have any idea what tower Miranda is in?”
Tammi shook her head. “I have no idea. She wasn’t kept with the rest of us. But I know how to find the other prisoners.” She took a step closer, her fingers twitching. “There was water flowing in the bottom of the caves. And if I stuck my head between the bars, I could see a tiny little point of light. There’s a way in, I think, through the side of the mountain.”
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