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Her sister’s screams joined hers. But it was her eyes that made Violet grind to a halt. They shone a milky, bright green. All the hairs on Violet’s arms stood on end as the temperature dropped. Her mother’s moan was barely audible in the background. Maybe Gavin could heal her. There was still time.
“Violet, get out of there!” Gavin called to her, sounding utterly panicked. A body rose from the center of the building, climbing out of the waters near the boat. Violet stumbled backward, away from her sister who seemed lost in her grief, tears dripping down her face. A green aura buzzed over her skin.
Magic. Thalea was calling on her own power, and spirits were answering her calls.
Neem after Neem crawled out of the water, missing limbs: a terrifying image of bones and rotting flesh. The scent alone left her gagging as she backed away, pressing herself against the wall.
But the Neems weren’t interested in Violet or Gavin. They stalked toward Julius, closing in a circle before they descended on him. His cries of pain rang through the room.
A hand wrapped around her arm, making her jump, her own magic spiking.
“It’s me. We have to leave.” Gavin was pulling her toward the exit.
“No,” Violet protested. “My mother and Thalea.” She stared at the Neems which surrounded her sister.
“There have to be at least fifty of them. Once Julius is dead, we’re next.”
To be honest, Violet wasn’t willing to gamble again on whether that cockroach of a man had actually died this time.
“What if she can’t control them and they get Mom?” Violet struggled inside the cage of Gavin’s arms.
“We will come back for her when the Neems are gone.” But when she met his eyes, the clarity inside them only left her feeling sicker. He thought her mother was dead already.
Violet looked across his shoulder to her unmoving mother and the place where her sister sat. Thalea was staring at an empty spot in the distance, and the spirits hovered around her, a protective wall of maggots and flesh that would kill both Gavin and her if they dared to approach.
What if they left, and when they came back she was gone along with them?
The cold air was suddenly pungent with the scent of old magic. Violet held her breath, holding onto Gavin’s arms as gooseflesh rolled over her skin. The storm shook the building with angry waves.
“My necromancer. At last.” An icy voice slithered out from nowhere and everywhere at once. Lightning flashed, blinding her for a moment.
She blinked and swallowed, trying to clear the buzzing in her ears. Before her stood a tall shape, wearing a black cloak that matched his long ebony hair. It contrasted with his milky skin.
His wide pink lips quirked, and the pools of his golden irises shone brightly as they drank in her sister like a prize that he desired. This was no man.
“Dargan,” she whispered.
Gavin tensed as he, too, saw the god materialize in front of Thalea. When Dargan moved, all the spirits stood and turned to him in one motion, as though they’d been commanded to do so. The air grew thick and suffocating.
“Why are you bound and on the ground?” Dargan asked her sister. He glanced at Julius’ broken body. His brows dipped low in a brief flash of anger.
Thalea rolled over and onto her feet. Her dress was tattered and stained with blood from her cheek. “Stay back, or I will ask them to hurt you!”
Dargan tilted his head, and a slow grin spread over his beautiful, deadly face. “Your ancestor called upon me. She asked for the last necromancer to be spared. You can only repay the price of one soul with another of the same kind. You are mine, Thalea Elder.” And he took a step closer.
“I’m no one’s!” Thalea shouted. Her hair, which had always been a deep black, suddenly looked bleached of all color. White, like that of all the other emissaries. Luelle, Cullen, and the Dark One who had come to Violet in the shifter’s village—they’d all had silver-toned locks. The mark of Dargan’s claim.
Violet’s anger churned hot. She fought her way out of Gavin’s grasp and threw her blade through the air with the full force of her magic. It cut through the room with unmatched precision, past the spirits and the air poisoned with their rot. Her magic propelled it unerringly at the god’s torso.
Fuck him.
He was so focused on Thalea he didn’t see it coming. The knife embedded itself in his chest, right between his heart and shoulder blade. Everything stopped. Then Dargan turned, his eyes settling on Violet for the first time.
Did the gods feel pain? He pulled the knife from his body like it was nothing but an inconvenience. His nostrils flaring was the only reaction he gave her. “You can’t kill me, pet.”
Perhaps she could distract him long enough for Thalea to make whatever move she needed to make. The spirit’s rotten, semi-corporeal shapes flung themselves onto Dargan all at once, stalling his forward momentum. Her little sister’s lips tilted down as she fell back against the crumbling wall of the boathouse. One of her trembling hands lifted, her fingertips shining with green licks of flaring light.
“This deathtrap is about to collapse.” Gavin grabbed Violet’s hand, holding her back. He was right. The waves rose outside the windows, at least eight feet high and rocking the walls with a storm brought by the last emissary. The God of Shadows, himself.
