Miriam nods, wide-eyed. “I promise.”
“I ran into trouble. Thankfully, Azrael showed up, or it could have been worse. It wasn’t even dark yet. But it was terrifying. They must’ve followed me from the market.” A shiver runs up my spine at the memory of that lingering stare I couldn’t place.
Miriam schools her face into an indifferent expression, doing her best to appear as if we’re talking about boring girlish things or the weather. Tavien continues to be oblivious to our hushed whispers—or at least he’s good at pretending—only glancing up every once in a while to check on us.
“Tell me everything,” she exclaims, eyes wide.
“There’s not much to tell,” I reply, deciding to play it down. “A creepy man in a trench coat was following me. Azrael appeared out of nowhere and told me to run to him. He caught me in his arms, then stalked off to do I don’t know what. There was an altercation between the two of them, and he walked me home.”
“It sounds romantic,” Miriam swoons. “He practically saved you.”
She nudges me in the shoulder, and I giggle uncomfortably. “Azrael and I can never be anything more than friends, and I don’t even think he wants that.” My smile fades.
Miriam puts her arm around me and squeezes my shoulders, leaning close to whisper, “We’ve both seen the way he looks at you, Mercy. If he told you that, it’s a lie and you know it. I’m sure he’s just scared.”
I sigh. Lie or not, the sting of rejection still hurts. I change the subject. “Speaking of scared, how are things going with…” I drop my voice even lower. “You know who?”
“Mercy!” Miriam hisses.
I laugh. “Don’t tell me he’s still too afraid to ask your father.”
Miriam rolls her eyes. “He’s terrified.”
I sigh. “You have to convince him. I can’t miss your wedding—not when my father’s already looking for the highest bidder.”
Miriam beams. “I know. I couldn’t possibly get married without you there. You’re like a sister to me, Mercy. Only better. You’re my best friend, and I don’t get to see you nearly enough.”
I squeeze her hand. “I feel the same way too, Miriam. And I know you’re going to be a beautiful bride… as soon as Sylis finds the courage to talk to your dad.”
From against the tree, Tavien whistles, and we both look up. “C’mon, Miriam,” he says, holding up a golden pocket watch. “It’s time to head back so I can be there when the boats arrive.”
She nods, and with a quick wave to Tavien, I turn back. “Thank you for coming. I’ll see you in a few days.”
He smiles. “See you soon, Mercy.”
Miriam and I hug tightly, promising to see each other again soon. I watch them walk away, shadows stretching long beneath the sun. My chest tightens with sorrow, longing for connection. All my life I thought I was alone, but it turns out, I’m not so lonely after all. I’m lucky to have my cousin, and my mother is lucky to have her brother, quietly keeping watch. A peace settles over the garden, and I return to my work.
Chapter 8
Azrael
Ishuffle along between side streets, purposefully walking out of my way, circling her house in the hopes of catching another glimpse of Mercy. It’s been a few days since her trip to the Oceanside Market, and I refuse to allow her to make that trip alone again. The snatchers are flocking to the village in droves, an infestation that reeks of growing power. Which can only mean one thing: the hunter is gaining strength.
Lucifer was surprisingly forgiving about the time it’s taking me to intercept the hunter, but he was quick to remind me of his expectations. His satisfaction with the vial of snatcher soul was short-lived; soon enough, he resumed lecturing me on the importance of recovering this particular soul. Above all else, the hunter must be captured and returned. He was adamant I return to search at once.
When I came up empty-handed yesterday—offering nothing more than three vials of snatchers—he accepted them gratefullyinstead of punishing me. He praised me, then turned on a dime, demanding I try harder before stepping into the hearth and allowing Hell to swallow him whole.
Finding a hunter is hard, but finding one with this magnitude of knowledge and power in such a short time frame is beginning to feel damn near impossible. I’m certain Lucifer failed to mention key details, because this hunter is more sinister than any I’ve ever encountered. It’s managed to stay a few steps ahead of me the entire time. So much so that I’m growing impatient and frustrated.
As if in reply, my magic snarls beneath my skin, begging to be set free, to make a kill, to taste release. I take a deep breath. Not in broad daylight. Not when the streets are filled with people. Too many watching eyes linger on me, analyzing, waiting. The townspeople are on edge. Women and children are disappearing left and right, and the rumors continue to spread like wildfire that the circus is to blame. I can’t move without being watched—but perhaps that’s all part of the hunter’s plan, making him even harder to eliminate.
Passing back through town on my way to the big top, I creep undetected past her house one last time. All the while, I fight the urge to burst through her front door and take her with me.
My fingers brush against the glass of yet another vial filled with inky black liquid. It pulsates in my hand, making my skin prickle with frustration. If only I could locate the hunter and his nest. They have to be hiding somewhere. I turn down yet another street.
A glance at my pocket watch tells me what I already know. It’s getting late. I quicken my pace. There’s a performance to prepare for. The circus shows keep selling out, and the money keeps churning in. Great for operations—but not for finding my soulmate before the Divine. Not for keeping Mercy safe. I’m not far from the circus gates now, and the invisible boundary of magic that tethers it to the edge of town calls to me, begging me to return.
Tonight I’m one of the featured acts, something we try every so often to drum up attendance. Everyone is captivated by my giant beasts, enamored with the way they move and roar. Their large, toothy grins and golden manes gleam in the spotlight. The lions move as if enchanted, their strength and danger emanating from every muscle as they parade around the ring. Sometimes they roar in protest, swishing their tails back and forth in agitation when I command them to jump through fiery hoops. But I’m not afraid. I’m a demon prince of death. They can’t harm me. I stare them down until they surrender, leaping gracefully through the fire each time.
