Verrick’s right—Icanfeel it. And when I finally lift my eyes and look out across the nave, I see it, too.
What I thought was the result of hundreds of candles being extinguished wasn’t actually smoke at all, but the demonic souls of hell.
Made of darkness and shadow, they rise from the ground in droves, seeking a connection to this realm. Seeking human vessels among the dark mages—mages who are all too willing to sacrifice themselves for the cause.
I watch in stunned, sickened horror as the demons claim their new hosts. Hoods fall back, revealing black eyes glittering in pale faces, mouths stitched shut.
Only the front pew remains unpossessed. Eloise. Brian. And the Forsythes, whose soulless eyes are as hungry and desirous as Verrick’s.
Zorakkov gets to his feet and lifts his hands skyward, like some kind of God on the mountain.
“Bow to your master,” he booms, his voice dark and powerful, making the still-burning candles in the chandeliers flicker. “Bow!”
But the newly risen demons donotbow to the prince of hell.
They do not bow to the Archmage who sacrificed his adopted son to be Zorakkov’s vessel.
They do not bow to the Archmage’s wife, or to my stepmother, or even to Verrick of Wintermoon, arguably the most powerful being in this entire cathedral.
The newly risen demons turn toward the lone witch the world continues to underestimate.
And they bow tome.
Chapter Nine
AUGUSTINE
After Rook coordinated with Tatiana for the meet-up and Jude finally lured a frazzled Lucinda and Huxley into Drae’s bedroom with a mountain of crackers, three different kinds of imported cheeses, and enough dark chocolate to thoroughly ruin Draegan’s expensive sheets for good, the four of us left the manor in a flurry of wings and rage, no time to strategize beyond the basics.
Get West. Torch our enemies. Bounce.
With a little luck, we’d be home in time for an epic night breakfast and a round ofverystiff drinks.
Done, done, anddone.
But now that we’re here… Fuck. It’s painfully obvious that our simple plan needs a little more, well, planning.
First clue this wasn’t going to be a quick rescue-and-destroy operation? The fucking mages put up some kind of magical barrier, preventing us from getting within twenty feet of the cathedral. We tried. It was like hitting a damn invisible wall. An electrified one that damn near fried my dick off.
Whatever mojo they’ve got working in there gummed up the cameras, too. Rook keeps checking the feeds on his phone, but all we’re getting is static.
So for now, the gargoyles and I are gathered on the rooftop of a shuttered Greek restaurant directly across from the cathedral with Tatiana and her two companions. With shrewd, wise gazes and confident command of their magic, Fleur and Laney Archer seem like they’ve been around the block a few times and know how to handle themselves in a bad situation.
I truly hope they can be trusted, but it’s too late for regrets. They know we’re gargoyles—we’re in our true forms. Rook had to tell them about West’s connection to Wintermoon, too. About our suspicion that she is, in fact, the child spoken of in the so-called Moon Blessed prophecy.
A prophecy that may very well be coming to fruition tonight.
For now, the witches seem genuinely determined to help us, which is a relief. Judging from the waves of dark energy rolling out of that fucking impenetrable cathedral, we’re gonna need all the help we can get with this shadow-mage shitshow.
“They’ve already completed the binding,” Tatiana says now, shaking her head. “I can feel it—a dark power gathering between the realms. We can deal with breaking it later, but for now, you all need to prepare yourselves. The Westlyn you know… She’s very likely going to be different.”
“Different how?” Draegan asks. He hasn’t stopped pacing since we landed, his body crackling with energy just waiting to be unleashed.
“Depending on how she reacts to the demonic connection,” Tatiana says, “she could be severely weakened. Or, depending on which bloodline ends up being more dominant, the demon’s blood could end up fueling Westlyn’s inherent magic instead, amplifying the darker aspects of her fae nature.”
“Darker aspects?” I ask. “What does that mean?”
“She may experience intense feelings of bloodlust,” Tatiana explains. “A need for utter destruction. An all-consuming rage that can only be quenched with extreme acts of violence.”
