Page 111 of Mage Massacres

“The lompus vine? I had no idea that gods-awful weed was useful,” the succubus commented.

“We should leave soon,” Annette stated. “I need to get Raguel back to his padded cell before my father visits. He’ll be belligerent if the angel is missing.”

She glanced around before making eye contact with Hyde. “What do you propose we do with all these bodies?”

“That’s all we’ll get from her,” Sloane acknowledged. “If Miller is ready, then we can end this.”

The night witch finished her symbol and replied, “Done. Let’s get started.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Hyde responded, shrugging her shoulders. “You’ll be dead before you can find the real angel.”

Sloane dropped the dome as Annette snarled at the succubus.

Miller flicked her fingers, lighting a ring of purple flames around us and all the Raguel clones. Black embers floated on the breeze, killing the plants and tree branches that they touched.

I found Palmer in the group, watching him flex his fingers to manipulate the air above our heads. He was stopping the embers from touching us.

“These are the rules, Annette, but I want to warn you.” Sloane waggled her brows. “I’m making them up as I go.”

She slung her arm out as if showcasing a line-up of options.

“Pick any angel on the board, and if you’re right, I’ll deliver you a swift and painless death. But if you’re wrong, we’ll reveal the true identity of the chosen. That leads to agony, though, so do choose carefully.”

I snorted, unable to stop my reaction when she smiled at Annette. My mind was in information overload, and my mate wanted to play games.

“Are you crazy?” Annette growled. “Do you really think I’m going to entertain this ridiculousness?”

“A little,” Sloane sang. “Which death will you choose?”

“Neither,” the fae-mage retorted, leaning her body back as she blinked several times. “My magic—“

“It’s not working?” Hyde guessed. “Damn. That night witch really did you in.”

Miller placed her hand on her chest theatrically. “Who? Me? It’s all thanks to Annette and her stalker scrapbook.”

“It’s time to pick, Annette,” Sloane announced. “Pain-free or agonizing? We’re waiting.”

“Who will you pick, Annette?” Hyde taunted. “There’s no escaping. You can’t magic your way out of this, so you might as well play.”

Several minutes passed us by, and Annette’s will visibly broke, shattering under the pressure of picking her death. She couldn’t mist away or step into the Void. She couldn’t access any of her magic either, which meant that she couldn’t sense who the real Raguel was.

She was alone and surrounded.

Her death would be determined by luck, awarded to her by a queen cloaked in darkness.

She closed her eyes, releasing a sigh as she straightened her blouse. Her fingers trembled as she lifted her hand and pointed to one of the angels in the circle around us.

Joyner.

“Vaughn?” Sloane called. “Is that Raguel?”

I wiped the wyvern’s glamor away, his black-framed glasses coming into view first.

“Aww. Too bad.” Hyde patted Annette’s shoulder and stepped away.

Miller twirled her finger, pulling black embers from above us to drop onto the fae-mage. She screamed as they touched the exposed skin of her arms, melting into her flesh. Black veins webbed from her wrists to her elbows, and sores festered as she heaved unsteady breaths through her lips.

“Again,” Sloane demanded, her eyes devoid of emotion.