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My brother makes a sound unlike any I’ve ever heard: a barbaric, blood-curdling scream that raises all the hairs on my arms and reverberates through my very horns. The Fallen have staked him with their claws to the floor of the Court. All my alters cower deep inside me—all except for Bryony, who is the bravest of us all and wants to mount her Pegasus and ride in to save the Prince.
We will, Bryony,I reassure her and gird myself with force fields of lightning and kinetic energy.
I prepare to liberate Neo.
“Nita.”
In mid-step, I pause to greet the necromancer. “Well, now…this is an interesting development,” I remark at the sight of her and the black fire skulls swarming in her wake, at the Satanic blood runes covering her phantom, at the undulating ribbons of blood ruby hair, and black lightning wings that beat wind bearing the stench I scented earlier. I stare down her black magic pits—windowless cavities like keyholes to centuries spent in the waste of Limbo where she earned her stripes from the Soul-Eater and ultimately that damned origin of mine who cursed her with the mark of Satan.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sister of Destruction and Death,” the necromancer pronounces, voice like a soprano abomination. She shifts on the edge of a moment, but I catch onto that edge, so I am facing her when she appears at my back: a failed attempt at toying with me.
“I am not that boorish bastard’s sister,” I refer to Death. “But I am late to an unshackling, so if you will excuse me for my incivility, I despise un-punctuality.”
Once again, I mark her for that moment’s edge, though she blocks my path and warns, “I wouldn’t do that, Nita. Unless you wish to meet the same fate.”
“Is that a threat?” I brandish my energy, my lightning. “I would thrill at the challenge of dragging your ass personally back to Limbo. I’ll keep your blood serpent hair as a trophy.”
I’ll wear it, too!
Not now, Kit,I alert her because I can’t afford any distractions.
“I would never presume to threaten the Hydra Queen. But a certain little angel—”
The necromancer doesn’t dare finish the sentence when I growl deeply and unleash a force field of lightning into her being. It reacts like a cobweb of energy, launching a tremor through her apparition, but I know it’s far more of a warning sting. It would take all my strength, nay, all mysoul,to battle this succubus, and that is a grievous insult to all succubi.
“Surely, surely, you understand how stronger forces are at work in this game of fates, Nita,” the Necromancer hums to me, lifting her hand to cup a black skull, then snuffs it out in a puff of smoke. “Angels and demons. Humans and monsters. Light and darkness. Good and evil. Surely, surely, you have foreseen the events.”
I set my jaw, and my horns harden because my vision has afforded me a mere glimmer or two. Unlike last time with the Scourge, where I could see the end and the beginning, which granted me the strength to invoke the Right to Substitution and to not strangle Lux with her very own intestines, now I have foreseennothing.
The necromancer howls, baring her teeth like dozens of scimitars overlapping one another. I sense the depth of her indignation as if she’s spewing black flaming geysers. Though I can’t yet judge the source or reasoning for her devilish temper tantrum, I still gorge on her rage. Uninhibited, I cross my arms over my chest, posturing greater than ever, thrusting out my wings to rise above her.
“Unforeseen complication?” I taunt her.
Her black fire settles, those fathomless eye holes lifting to mine as she seethes, “Surely, surely, it seems I may haveunderestimatedthe little angel.”
I grin. “Join the club.” I wonder what my Elysia managed to do, how she managed to conquer this necromancer even while far away.
“Mordere will still have his fun. And what is life without a littlechallenge? As Father dictated: there are always surprises…on both sides, it seems.” The necromancer thrusts her head toward the Court. “Surely, surely, Destruction desires your presence, Nita.”
“And what shall I call you, bone-conjurer?” I challenge her, but I know she won’t take the bait and would not dare surrender such power. “I am very good with names, you see.”
“I am called Morgya.”
I shake my head once, just a firm resolution and one stab of my horns. “Until I learn your true name, Morgya, I will look forward to calling you a host of nicknames…” I hint, already deepening to my alters to enlist their aid in all the sea of possibilities. I’m certain Elysia will be more than happy to extend her sharp mind.
“To Destruction, Nita,” Morgya voices and makes her way to the midway point of the bridge, leaving me on the opposite side. “I am to raise a ten thousand army strong. And even if you could interfere, you willnot.”
“We will see, Morgya. We will see.”
“Surely, surely…we will.”
Moments later, I have paralyzed the Fallen, splintered their bones, and reduced their bloodied hearts to pulp juice that sluices into the cracks where my brother lies unconscious. I press my hand to his chest, on the verge of reviving him when I hear the voice in my head.
Stop, Nita.
“Neo?” I speak in the desolate hall, laser-focusing on his face.
I can hear you, sister. Mordere will be here soon. We don’t have long.
