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If I couldn’t escape this place, there was no chance of surviving.
“Miss Crowe.”
I glanced back at him, still trying to decide if I could make a run for it.
“It was not a request.” Chester slid the knife across his forearm, as he said lightly, “Hands are an unwise place to carve upon an alchemist. You may use yours or your arm, as you are only a witch.”
“If I was only a witch, why are we here?” I asked quietly.
When I didn’t move, he gave me a look that was colder than the worstdraugr. His innocuous businessman guise slipped. Whatever he’d tried to be, he was still a monster in a way that even the monsters I knew couldn’t touch.
He killed Beatrice.
He killed Iggy.
He would kill Eli.
I eyed Chester.Would anyone be safe from him?Then I affixed a smile. “Women’s lib! I do my own cuts. Thanks ever so.”
Chester stepped closer, and my fangs dropped.
Not the time. Not the damn time, teeth!
I pressed my lips together tightly, hoping he didn’t see. My necromancy was not secret; neither was my importance to Beatrice. He didn’t need to know I was already fanged. That was to only happen to deaddraugr.
Of course, as far as anyone knew, alldraugrwere dead.
My stomach growled again. His blood smelled rich, like magic and violence. A part of me that I tried to suppress roared to life, and my gaze was fixed on the blood welling up so slowly on his skin. I could try to run, but a wicked voice, my own voice, reminded me, “He’s human.”
Humans were excellent snacks.
“I thought you were a necromancer,” Chester scoffed, reaching for my arm and stepping closer to me. “Let me.”
But the scent of his blood was like a feast in front of me.Why the hell not?I gave over to that darker impulse, and Iflowed—not to the door, though. Iflowedtoward him. Mouth open. Teeth oozing venom like I was whollydraugr.
A last thought shoved into my mind: was this new hunger because Eli had severed the bond? Had this man stolen my husband? Without the fae bond, would I be moredraugr? That fear added to rage.
I latched onto Chester’s throat and tore. Meat filled my mouth, and I spat it out before biting again.
Chester couldn’t speak because I’d ripped out his vocal cords. I made a mental note to thank Iggy for that lesson a few months ago, but then I launched at Chester again and again, moving like adraugrthat had become a berserker.
I squeezed, milking his body like a rag that I was wringing out. If I hadn’t got the jump on him, I’d be dead, but I had. And my sneak attack was going to either free me or kill me.
Fear of what would happen if he escaped my bloody grasp added to my berserker fit.
I swallowed, drinking down blood that was carrying memories of magic and places and things. It was a tangle in my head that threatened to choke me, but every time I tried to stop, his throat knitted back together. If he could heal this fast, he could kill me.
I cannot let him do that.
Time passed, and I had no idea how long. Finally, though, the blood I’d gorged on threatened to come up, and I could swallow no more. He was already trying to speak, opening his mouth, grabbing for me.
We were drenched in red, though, and I slipped away.
Iflowedto the door, jerked it open, andflowedthrough the city.
My mind was a barrage of noises. Beatrice. Eli. Chester’s victims. It was noise of the sort that I couldn’t contain. All I knew was that I had to get home, to Eli. I had to gather my family together so they could flee—whether they agreed or not.
When I tore open the front door of my home, Iflowedinside. Assembled there with maps and weapons were all the people I needed.
