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Magic ripped through him like a rusty blade, that Surge creeping ever closer. With a roll of his shoulders and neck, he gritted out, “Then I kill you. Understand?”
“But you can’t kill me,” she said, blinking up at him with big, innocent eyes. “I’m a Selkie.”
Sayagul squawked and beat her wings. Who does she think she is?
His eye twitched. “The rules of the New World don’t apply to the Old. I can sell you to those seafood vendors if I want to.” He pointed again at the Squid Squad Seafood Market. There were no rules in Yveswich that stated Darkslayers couldn’t kill each other—not like in the newer cities, such as Angelthene. “Do you want to keep living your pathetic thieving life, or shall I do the honors of grinding you up into a tasty little crab cake?”
There she went with the lash-fluttering again. “Do you think I would taste good dipped in tartar sauce?”
And just like that, his eye twitch was back.
“Alright,” Shay breathed, “let me get this straight so I can stop torturing your poor eye.” She wet her lips that were pale from the cold. “If I give you back your necklace, you’ll leave me alone?”
Roman winced as the Surge dug its claws in deeper. It looked like he’d be spending his afternoon at Caliginous on Silverway. “Yes,” he ground out.
Shay sighed. “Fine, I’ll go get it.”
Roman’s hand—the one grasping the Selkie’s arm—suddenly closed around open air.
What—
Roman froze. Spun around in a circle.
He was alone. Shay was gone.
Laughter erupted out of him without restraint, the sound loud and maniacal. People stared, a few jumping in shock from the volume.
“Un-fucking-reaaaaal!” he bellowed, tipping back his head to project his voice.
More people stared. A scowling mother pressed her hands over her daughter’s ears and hurried by.
I told you to kill her while you had the chance! Sayagul snarled, launching off his shoulder with a heavy beat of her shimmering wings. And you tell me not to play with my food. She disappeared into his shadow with one last lash of her pink tongue.
Eventually, Roman’s wild laughter tapered off. He looked at the people staring from the outdoor seating of the cafe, a few of those people gaping with open mouths.
The edges of his vision flickered with colors that were quickly becoming vibrant.
Caliginous on Silverway, coming right up.
“What are you looking at?” he snapped at the gawking crowds.
And then he got in his car and sped away.
11
Hell’s Gate
ANGELTHENE, STATE OF WITHEREDGE
The gray light of a rainy day was creeping through the curtains in Max’s suite when he woke Dallas up with a pillow to the face.
Smack!
“What the—!” The witch’s eyes flew open. It took her a moment to find Max, where he stood, fully clothed, by the foot of the bed.
She blinked once. Twice.
And then she narrowed her eyes, the silver rings around her pupils glinting with a warning. “What the hell was that for?” she demanded, her glare slicing to the pillow still hanging in his grip.
