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I also know that imps are considered a type of goblin. Like redcaps and brownies and gnomes.
The sudden knowledge jumping to the forefront of my mind doesn’t surprise me. My memory works like that sometimes. I read things, and promptly forget them, only for them to rush when I need them, unbidden. But this is…specific. Timely. Useful. And I am certain of the accuracy of my knowledge.
Just like Iknowwhat to do next.
A whip claps the air, golden and charged with energy.
But Seevar’s fast, and manages to evades it, before trotting up toward the stairs.But there are three of them, and he won’t make it. He’ll get hit; I know one whip would be enough to completely knock him out, like a taser meant for a damn bear.
Although how I know that, when I’ve never seen those weapons before? No clue.
I don’t question my mind or body as it leaps into action. I make a grab for the pitcher on top of the bar, to my right, and throw its contents in their path.
Then I feel so. Fucking. Stupid.
There’s onlywaterinside. Nothing else. Just plain, boring water.
What the hell? Why did I risk the wrath of everyone here just to chuck water to the floor?
It makes no sense.
I make no sense.
Suddenly, I long for what I’ve tried to avoid my entire adult life: a damn padded room where they can lock me up, to prevent me to hurt myself, as well as others.
In the second when regret and despair shake my bones, I don’t notice the silence, or the sudden eyes filled with ire, falling on me.
But wide silver eyes flicker through me, and the incubus nods ever so slightly for a fraction of a second, during which I completely understand one simple fact.
Heowesme. And he will repay this life debt.
The whips sizzle and hiss when they attempt to cross that plain, boring old water, unable to cross it. And Seevar takes the short instant of reprieve I’ve bought him.
Hiskeepers growl, following after him while the crowd laughs, still diverted by the whole thing.
“You stupid fucking bitch!” I hear Junis scream.
I hope he makes it. I hope he runs far, far away and never returns to this accursed place.
At least one of us would be free.
When my fae master’s fist collides with my face the first time, I fly backward.
By the seventh, everything is black.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WINE WITH A SIDE OF APOCALYPSE, PLEASE
Ryther
“That was an unnecessary risk, brother,” my twin admonishes after I’ve banished the bothersome sin.
At least for a while. The trouble with immortal forces, in their pure form, without flesh, is that they’re…well, immortal. Entirely impossible to kill for good.
If I could get my hand around her actual neck, that would be another matter altogether, but the seven sins know better than to come at us in their corporeal forms.
As primal forces, they have the capacity to sever themselves from their bodies, and they use it in order to infiltrate our worlds, taking over the consciousness of those they can sway—the weak, the greedy, the corrupted.
