“My associates and I have hurt a greatmanyshadow mages, doctor,” I say darkly. “And something tells me we’ll be hurting a great many more before this ordeal reaches its end. Some of these mages may even be familiar to you.Veryfamiliar. So perhaps you might spare a few more thoughts for your son instead of worrying about the boy-toy strapped to the bed.”
The alarm in her eyes spikes. “Where’s my son? Do you have him?”
“Thetreatments.” I unhand the dagger. “Why the delay?”
She unleashes a breath. Sweat beads on her skin, and a fresh trickle of blood runs down her thigh.
“We… we had to wait for the… the birth,” she pants. “The birth is what set everything in motion.”
A sickening heat roils in my gut as the pieces click into place.
I already know the answer to my next question, but I ask it anyway.
“The birth ofwhom?”
Chapter Four
AUGUSTINE
At Jude’s question, the woman lifts her head. A beatific smile dawns on her pale face, chasing away the apparent concern for her son.
I tip the candle upright, afraid I won’t be able to hold it steady once I hear Westlyn Avery’s name spill from the vile bitch’s mouth.
I suck in a deep breath. Set the lit candle on the table. Count the mouse droppings scattered behind it, just to keep from launching myself at the woman and ripping out her tongue at the mention of our witch.
But when she finally speaks again, it’s not Westlyn’s name on her lips at all.
“The Moon Blessed,” she whispers reverently, her eyes taking on the unmistakable blissed-out sheen of the truly brainwashed. “The Peacebringer.”
It takes my mind a minute to catch up with the words—Moon Blessed? Peacebringer?
Jude cocks his head. “Moon Blessed? What thefuckare you on about? The—”
“I’m not saying another word until I’ve got proof my son is alive,” she snaps. The blissful haze evaporates, her eyes crackling with new ferocity. Mama bear mode, activated.
For all the good it will do her.
“Your son,” Jude hisses, and I know from the rage in his voice I’ve got about five seconds before he grabs his crowbar and splits her skull.
“Jude.” I jerk my head toward Conrad, still moaning incoherently on the wax-splattered bed. “Why don’t you come over and chat with our Yankee Candle. I’d like a few moments with the good doctor, if you don’t mind.”
He glowers at me like I’m the mean dad putting him in timeout, but then he blows out a breath, drops the crowbar, and joins me by the bedside.
I grip the back of his neck and lean in close, searching his face.
“You good?” I whisper.
“I keep thinking about our girl, Augs,” he says softly. “What they fucking did to her—all of them. That woman is just as guilty, even if she never laid a hand on West directly.”
“And she’ll pay. Soon. We just need to figure out what else she knows, okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. See what else you can get out of her.” He nods once, then hops on the bed beside Conrad, giving him two swift smacks on the chest. “Just us now, Connie. You and me.”
I cross the room and crouch down in front of the woman, the stench of blood and fear wafting off her.
“Jacob is a good boy,” she mutters, like she’s trying to appeal to my humanity. Like she thinks I have any left to appeal to. “Please. He’s always been good. My son is—”
“Your son,” I grit out, unable to even say Pomeroy’s name, “was a vicious animal in whose prolonged, agonizing mutilation my associates and I took thegreatestof pleasures.”
