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The flames rose higher, licking the stones and singeing the wooden mantel. “Phoenix Freya Wolfstalker!” Her mother’s familiar voice echoed across the stone walls as her face appeared in the flames. “How dare you run off to hell and give us all a scare!”
“I’m a grown woman and will go where I want.” She cringed at the churlish tone in her voice, making her sound anything but adult.
“You are an Amaroki wolf and will follow your chieftain’s orders!” a deep voice rumbled, rolling through the room like thunder.
Tor’s furry protector apparition appeared in the flames beside her mother.
Hecate clasped her hands, beaming. “You must be Tor Thunderfoot.”
“I am,” he spoke through a fanged snarl. “And you must be Hecate.”
“I am.” She placed a hand across her heart and gave him a curt nod. “Jezebeth, thank you for bringing him here,” she spoke into the fire. “I’ve been wanting an audience with you, Tor Thunderfoot.”
Tor’s big, golden eyes narrowed. “How do you speak our language so well?”
“We are all spellcast to speak the same language,” she said with a casual flick of the wrist. “You may think you’re speaking your mortal language, but you speak demon when you’re in hell. Won’t you come inside?” She stepped back, motioning to the fur rugs. “We mean you no harm.”
Her sons, Daeva’s mates, all grumbled while folding their arms. The two alphas had shifted into big, black, behemoth protectors with horns curling out of their skulls. The beta and gamma, still in their demon forms, stood protectively beside Daeva, fur sprouting on their faces.
“I’m not here to discuss an alliance.” Tor glared at Hecate’s sons and then at Hecate. “I’m here for one reason only—to bring Phoenix back.”
Phoenix jutted a foot forward, her eyes narrowing on Tor’s apparition in the flames. “I’m not going back.”
“Phoenix, stop being unreasonable,” Jezebeth cried. “You belong with your family.”
She repressed the urge to scream. “Daevaismy family. So are my mates!” She looked to Daeva for support, her heart clenching when her sister wouldn’t meet her gaze.
“Phoenix, calm yourself,” Hecate reprimanded, a flash of anger in her eyes.
Phoenix glared at the witch. How dare she treat her like a child?
“Tor, Jezebeth, please come in.” Hecate waved toward the fire. “You have my word you will come to no harm.”
Phoenix tensed when Tor and her mother slipped into the room, their apparitions materializing, though her mother was still slightly translucent. What was Hecate playing at? When Tor looked at her, his eyes drilling holes through her skull, Phoenix went to her sister. Ignoring Lucian’s grumbling, she wedged between him and Daeva. Her heart faltered at the way these demon wolves treated her more and more like a child sent to time out, like a useless outcast. Once upon a time, she was considered a powerful witch. Had they forgotten that she’d helped them defeat the Vindictus? In fact, without her, they wouldn’t have rescued Daeva and Dragomir.
“What is this place?” Tor asked as he spun a slow circle. He was still in his protector form, as if he could defend himself against Daeva’s mates who were at least a foot taller and far wider in their demon protector forms.
“It’s our palace.” Hecate tossed her long hair over her shoulder, her smile too seductive, her voice as smooth as glass. She batted her lashes. “Do you like it?”
Phoenix growled at the witch, feeling personally offended on behalf of Tor’s mate, Mihaela, who’d been like a mother to Phoenix.
“A palace in hell?” Tor asked, seemingly oblivious to Hecate’s flirtations.
“We have many luxuries here.” Hecate cocked a hand on her hip. “See for yourself.”
Tor looked at Hecate as if he could see through her, as if she was no more interesting than a fly on the wall. “Is that a lake?” He jutted a finger to somewhere beyond her shoulder.
“It is.” She turned and beckoned him to the double doors that led to a curved, marble balcony.
He followed her, and they stood together, clutching the banister while looking down at the verdant landscape below.
Phoenix felt compelled to follow, if for no other reason than to protect Tor from Hecate’s advances. She dodged Jezebeth when she reached for her, tossing a scowl over her shoulder. The sun was setting, an illusion created by Hecate, for there were no sun or moon in hell, but it was a good way for them to tell the time, though she wasn’t sure why time mattered in Hell.
“And that is our newly rebuilt city,” she heard Hecate saying to Tor. “We call it Atlantia.” Hecate raised her hand and snapped her fingers.
Two familiar green buzzing demons with bulging eyes and translucent wings flew down from somewhere behind the castle turrets behind them.
“Drisinda, Bug,” Hecate said to them, her tone sharp. “Wine.”
