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“It’s your choice, Grace,” he said to my mother. “At your word, we can end his life, or send him to Purgatory.”

“What happens, if I choose not to end his life?”

“He will live to wish he was already dead. Kept in a prison with no light. No hope. Eternal punishment.”

“I choose Purgatory.”

At the time, I thought it was merely reference to his fate, and that the prison was one in Szolen where they often put gypsies who’ve committed crimes against Szolen citizens, but I realize now, it was a place. A real place. Not an underground prison in Szolen, but something else entirely.

“The girl is with you now?”

“No. She wanted to return home. To Szolen. So we personally escorted her, along with a spy that we planted on the inside. They accepted her in, and she stayed with the girl’s family. As we understand, the girl was eventually sent back to the Convent. Our spy was intercepted by marauders. We’ve not heard from Gwen in weeks.”

Gwen.

“That’s because she’s dead. Our truck crashed, and we were dragged away by Ragers. A group of men found us.”

“A group of men? Anyone by the name of Sam?” she asks.

“Yes. He was one of them.”

“Sam.” An air of derision colors her tone, and at the sound of his name, more confusion swirls inside my head. “He was our middle man. The contact between us and Gwen, as he seems to have some friends on that side of the wall.”

Throwing up my hands, I shake my head. “Wait. You hate men. You sacrifice them. And he was a marauder who sold women. This doesn’t make sense.”

“Believe me, it was a very tenuous relationship. We exchanged favors with him and his men, for information that he was able to retrieve.”

“Favors?”

Leg hiked over the arm of the chair, she shrugs. “Sex. What else? You’d be surprised what men are willing to do for a reliable blowjob. These days, it’s like offering them a chest of gold.”

“Not all men are like that.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Oh, right. I forgot. You shacked up with the unicorn of all men. Trust me, if you knew how to wield the weapon between your thighs, you’d be running this shit world, with him at your beck and call.” The humor on her face fades to something more serious—something I’m thankful for, because her comment had my fingers tingling with the urge to slap it off myself. “Was Sam the one who killed her? Gwen?”

“No. It was a Rager.”

Sighing, she shakes her head. “It’s a shame what happened to her. Such a lively thing. Always liked her.” Eyes narrowed in suspicion, she tips her head. “So, how did you end up here?”

“Sam sold me to a woman as a prize.”

“A prize. To a woman?”

“She intended to sacrifice me to a monster. A mutation. Titus saved me.”

“You’re very lucky to have been saved by a god. Particularly one so … handsome.”

Perhaps it’s the events of the day, but I’m in no mood to entertain her thoughts about Titus. “So your sister …” I say, changing the subject “Do you believe she died of illness in that place?”

“No. I don’t. The girl we picked up told me of another young girl she met at the convent who sounded an awful lot like my sister. Had the same birthmark as our Anais.” She stuffs the knife back inside its holster at her hip. “My sister did eventually die, as I understand. They murdered her. And we will have our revenge on the Sisters of Mercy.”

“What’s the delay?”

“Getting inside is no easy feat. The place is a fortress. One, perhaps, only a god could breach.”

“I can assure you. Even fortresses have their weak points.” It’s safe to assume that if trucks come and go as they do at Szolen, there is a small bit of vulnerability there. “The trucks themselves might be an option. Have you monitored their delivery schedules?”

“Once every four days. Unless there’s a special delivery. We don’t have as much insight with Gwen gone.”