The burning stares of my backup pleaded with me not to provoke her, but there was an unfamiliar power rippling off her. Her otherworldly beauty only magnified with each step she took, luring each of us to put our hearts within reach.
“Oh, but you’d love to know,” she purred. “I know who you are, though.”
“Do you?” I asked, grip tightening.
Vaneiare gestured to the bodies around her. “I found them first. Had to check they weren’t who I sought.” Her eyes swept up my frame, pausing over my shoulders. “That nothing has been done. Then, I was allowed to have my fun.”
What did any of that mean?Whathad not been done?
She floated closer. I only needed one good throw to disarm her.
Before I could take it, the man to my right lunged. A blade sailed past the woman’s torso as if it had been aimed for her gut, but she shifted imperceptibly at the last minute. In response, she only smiled, and the knife clattered to the earth behind her.
Then, she snapped a hand out.
“No!” I screamed.
But it was too late.
His heart was in her hand, like she’d tricked him into stepping just an inch too close with that throw.
“Lislee, go!” I demanded.
“No,” the commander swore.
“You,” the woman cooed as if nothing had just happened, “are the human friend of the seraph girl.”
She prowled forward. Morbid curiosity burned in her stare, and I was forced to step back, back, back, until my heel met the border of hay.
I have seven blades on my person.
She prowled closer. “We have been tracking you all.”
I will not go down until each is coated with her blood.
“All the seraph’s little followers,” she added, and though it unsettled me, I showed no sign of weakness. “We remember who was there. Who she may try to turn.”
She was almost within arm’s reach now. Instead of lobbing a knife at her, I lunged, slicing down.
The surprise worked in my favor, but I only scratched across her collarbone before she tossed me aside. I rolled across bloodstained dirt, biting my lip at the impact. Iron coated my mouth.
The woman pressed down on me. As I crawled backward toward the center of the ring, I kicked out, the heel of my boot striking her shin. She grimaced but stalked closer.
I crouched, keeping my knives up and my stare on her hands. Flicking my wrist, I sent one at her. She didn’t move quickly enough this time. It sank squarely into her palm, piercing right through the flesh.
But it didn’t stop her. The blood pooling around the blade only seemed to be an encouragement.
My heart thundered in my ears, nearly drowning out her words. “They will be thrilled to hear?—”
But the taunt ended in a growl as a broad hand wrapped around her face, fingers curving into her jaw. The woman roared, her teeth shifting into points. They sliced into the palm of the male holding her, but his grip did not relent.
With her bloodied hand, she gripped his face, her own blood smearing across his lips, flesh slicing further on his canines.
And with strength unlike anything I’d ever seen—unlike anything I’d thought possible even of the Hunter himself—he ripped the woman’s head from her body before she could kill me. A chord was struck in my chest, like my lungs were a harp being played.
The woman’s songs faded in the wind, and Lancaster tossed her body aside like a used doll, the white of her gown finally staining red.
“Santorina,” he said, almost sounding relieved as he knelt beside me. “I am sorry it took me so long. There were children trying to get away.”
