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The clang of bells from the Pleasure District have her on full alert, much as a “marshal down” call would have me switching into serious calm before combat. Another echo of bells from the direction of The Rink, and she’s shoving the grimoire back into the wooden box and securing the latch. A different shade of red fires off her, bolder than her anger earlier.
“That’s the emergency system,” she says. “Something’s happening. Something big. I need to get to the House of Furies. You okay to find your way to shelter? If not, you can stay here in the wards.”
I won’t leave her when there’s danger. I’ve already lost her once. “I’m good but—”
She kicks off into the air with the grimoire’s chest in her arms. “Nolan,” she calls from the treetops, the sky a backdrop of bleeding sunset behind her.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t die on me. I’m not done kissing you yet.” With that, she’s gone.
10
SADIE
I must’ve lost my mind telling Nolan Bankston that I plan on kissing him again, but as much as he makes me crazy with his mood swings that go from bribing me with the grimoire to handing my history back to me with no strings attached, I’m not done with my childhood crush. Not yet anyway.
The bells still ring when I land on the House of Furies large wooden porch that serves as our flight deck. Tucking my wings, I hurry inside. Syn City has been terrorized by a serial killer and an evil sea witch in the last few months. Yet today’s the first time I’ve heard those bells ring anything more than a single chime for practice or a few times to signal a game. They’ve never gone on for minutes.
“Sadie,” Maizie yells from inside the House. “Suit up in combat gear. Make it fast. I need you and your sisters with me in the Pleasure District.”
“Yes, Coach.” I hustle to do as ordered, cradling the chest with my family’s grimoire inside until I reach my room where I can leave it in safety.
Growing up, I envied my older sister’s talent to make anything beautiful. Her spells tended toward glamor. With a quick twist of hair, fast dab of makeup, or a few well-placed stitches, Hazel could make the ordinary look stunning while remaining practical. I honor her legacy in my cosmetics brand that makes me millions, but my first creation in her memory was designing combat suits for the Furies.
Crafted with top-of-the-line body armor in the most flexible fabric I could find, my suit moves with me when I fight and allows my wings to spread to their fullest. It’ll hold everything from a sword to a lipstick, and it looks gorgeous while doing it. In Fury black, the sleek bodysuit has hidden zippers that let me strap into it in seconds.
When I hit the flight deck this time, Furies file out of the House in combat gear. My sisters land near me.
“Nolan was almost back to the cabins when we flew overhead,” Dottie says. “He’s away from the fighting.”
“What fighting?” I ask. Other than the occasional bar brawl, there’s no assault and battery in Syn City. All the Houses are too scared of what the other could do in retribution to try it, and there’s no one here other than the Houses, staff, and families since we’ve been in lockdown for weeks. “Did someone finally go stir crazy enough to snap?”
Kiva shakes her head, the silver arrowheads in her wings glistening. “This isn’t like anything we’ve ever seen. There’s mass panic in the Pleasure District with deity daughters in a frenzy beating the shit out of each other.”
“Furies, move out,” Coach yells. “Sadie, on me.”
We take to the air in a wave of black vengeance headed toward the hotel, shops, and restaurants that should be nearly empty. I keep pace with Coach and her two triad sisters in the lead as Kiva and Dottie watch my six.
We crest the final trees before the Pleasure District starts. Screams, yells, and crying fill the air from below.
Dozens of deity daughters pour out of the Hack and Ale—Gorgons, Muses, Nymphs, even a couple of Mad Maes. They’re all fighting as if they’ll tear each other apart. It’s a splatter of colors in yellow, purple, blue, and red with blood soaking the ground. Broken glass glistens in the dirt around them.
“Holy Hades,” Coach mutters.
“What happened here?” I ask her.
“I intend to find out which is why you’re with me.” She spins to fly backward, and we circle her as we would at the derby track. “Furies, break up the fighting. Use force as necessary but keep it non-lethal. If you can’t defend yourself without killing, abort and let them tear into each other. This is not revenge or your deity-ordained purpose.”
“What if their crazy is contagious?” someone yells from the back.
“Stay with your sisters. If you see a sister fall into madness, haul her ass out of there and get clear. Now go.”
I fight every sisterly instinct I have not to swoop down with Kiva and Dottie. Following Coach, I land a quarter of a mile away from the mob. She joins the leaders of the other Houses.
Standing with the leadership of the seven Houses isn’t my thing. I’d rather be alone in my garden or picking out samples for my cosmetics brand any day. The memory of Nolan saying that whoever’s killing shifters is targeting their leaders and taking out people who matter? It sends goosebumps racing over my skin. Freakin’ paranoia. This is a bar fight gone bad, not a serial killer. Still, I can’t banish the thought.
“What do we know?” Maizie asks.
