I can’t help but shake the feeling that we’re being watched or followed. Every few minutes, I steal a long glance over my shoulder, as if waiting for someone else to appear. Tavien seems unbothered, but he is on high alert too, constantly scanning our surroundings with a hand at his side, ready and waiting to draw the dagger that hangs around his waist from a leather belt.
We’re halfway between home and the markets when a figure appears out of nowhere, leaping into our path and blocking the way. Tavien throws out a protective arm in front of me, instantly reaching for his blade. It feels wrong. My cousin is younger than I am, and while his build rivals the older men on the docks, he’s still just a boy. He shouldn’t be the one protecting me. I wish Azrael were here. Silently, I plead for him in my mind.Please Azrael, come for me. Rescue us.
The figure turns to face us, unnaturally slow, like a predator playing with its food. My heart thunders loudly in my chest,rapidly racing as if it might break free and run away to safety. And then I’m screaming as it charges right for us.
My screams drown out everything around me as the hideous creature lunges right for Tavien. Its mouth is gaping wide, filled with thousands of sharp-pointed teeth. This thing isn’t human. It’s some kind of nightmare we hear about in bedtime stories meant to scare us. Tavien remains calm. He moves away from me, separating us by mere inches as he bravely charges forward to meet the attacker.
In the fading light, the sea glass catches the last rays of the sun, casting a faint glow where it meets the silver metal of Tavien’s dagger. It’s fitting his weapon is crafted with sea glass as a decorative touch rather than expensive foreign gems. Most of the merchants and traders carry similar weapons, all with sea glass forged into the iron and steel.
“Stay behind me,” he urges protectively. “If you have to run, don’t look back. Go straight to the docks, or home. Find my father. Or yours. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I rasp, before covering my mouth to silence a scream in horror.
The creature barreling for us is closing in, wings flapping, and a toothy snarl gaping wide. I get a good look at it, immediately regretting doing so. I want to squeeze my eyes shut, to wait for the cold tendrils of death to take me, but Tavien—brave, sweet Tavien who is still so much a boy—stands in front of me, unafraid and ready to fight.
The creature is horrifying. Six jagged wings curl like scythes, folding and unfurling with sickening snaps, as it moves toward us. Once again, its mouth stretches too wide, and I get yet another glimpse of the splintered teeth like broken glass. Its eyes burn like inverted stars—black voids rimmed with molten gold. Oh, gods, how I wish Azrael were here to protect me. Terror twists and turns, burrowing into my stomach. I’m frozen in place behind Tavien, unable to react.
Tavien steps forward like a warrior with years of training, expertly angling his dagger so the first blow is only a warning. He slices across its arm, kicking it back—his foot connecting with its chest so hard that it falls to the ground. But the creature is relentless. It jumps to its feet and charges again. This time, death awaits it on the tip of the dagger. Tavien slides it right into the neck, just above the collarbone, with a precision that leaves me breathless. Crimson, silver-streaked, glittering liquid seeps out, and I gasp.
“Look away, Mercy. I’m sorry. Look away, ”Tavien shouts over my panicked sobs.
But I can’t. I can’t look away from the horrible creature. Tavien pulls his bloody dagger from its throat, and it falls to the ground, completely lifeless. He cleans his blade in the dirt, sheathes it, then embraces me, whispering soft words of reassurance. “Mercy, it’s okay. He was just some old pickpocket. Probably strung out on the elixir or booze. He’d have harmed us, or worse, snatched you for the illegal human trades.”
I nod my understanding, except I’m confused. Does he not see what I see? Can he not see the six blood-covered wings, witheredand curled like the leaves of a dead plant? Or the blood still trickling over the vicious incisors. Does Tavien see a man where I see a beast? My thoughts overwhelm me as I look over Tavien’s shoulder at the lifeless body laying on the street.
When my tears have dried and I’m calm again, we finally continue our walk home. I clutch his arm, both of us silent as the shock settles.
Tavien walks me right up to the door. I file past my mother and to my room so I can change. As I walk down the hallway, I hear him ask if my father has a minute. My heart sinks. Nothing good can come from a conversation with my father. I know, deep down, Tavien feels duty-bound, but a bad feeling settles over me as the front door closes loudly.
Chapter 14
Azrael
“Help!”
Fear surges through my body like nothing I’ve ever felt before—heart-stopping, body-trembling, cold-blooded terror that hijacks every one of my senses. I hear the thunderous rush of blood whooshing through my veins at the same time the delicious tang of pheromones wafts through the air—pure, undiluted fear tickles my nostrils. I part my lips, darting my tongue out to taste it. A moan claws its way up my throat, and satisfaction settles over me as I realize I know this fear. The way it tastes, the distinct smell. The sound of that heartbeat.
My eyes squeeze shut. The soft, familiar brush of her fingers coaxes my mind to open. Then I see everything.
Mercy’s cousin is there. I recognize the observant boy from the market. He holds a dagger, but I can’t see what it’s pointed at yet. I spin. Mercy is screaming, her gaze fixed on somethingbehind me. My name on her lips is desperate and pleading, sending a surge of desire spreading over my body. I turn, looking over my shoulder, and I see it.
A Seraphim—screeching, teeth bared, six wings flapping rhythmically. It runs toward Mercy. In my mind, I feel the vibrating echo as she begs me to rescue her, pleading for me to find her. My muscles twitch as I try to move them, but her mind has a hold of mine. I can’t break free from her grip.
Marblas nudges the back of my leg with his giant head, causing me to wobble on my feet. The surprise startles me from the connection. Everything disappears, and when I open my eyes, I’m back in the barn. But I know the moment my thoughts are once again my own that Mercy is in danger. Somehow, she channeled me to her and revealed everything through an omniscient view. There’s no way an ordinary human can accomplish a feat like whatever just happened between us. She’s mine. I’m certain of it. A protective rage builds from deep within me—an instinctive, primal urge to protect my mate.
A million questions rush through my mind. There’s no time to explore a single one. Adrenaline pumps through me with so much force I’m losing my human form fast. Soon, I’m only shadow, mist, and feather. Black, inky feathers swirl as part of my being, forming the shape of wings. Wisps of shadow corkscrew-curl around the feathers, as black, glittery mist seals the gaps—forming wings that lift me into the sky and through the streets of the city. My shadows know where they’re going, directing the way as we breeze through the town unnoticed.
Wind swirls, and time slows. I’m all alone with nothing but my thoughts for company. A Seraphim is behind all of this. It explains everything—from how the hunter entered the human realm, to who helped it escape, and why the town is overrun with snatchers searching for the soul the Fates deemed as mine. The implications of these actions are going to shake the fragile balance between good and evil. Rage simmers within me.
If the Seraphim is targeting Mercy, then she’s a well-calculated mistake, part of a blanket sweep to eliminate women who pose a threat—or the Divine knows more than I do. Once I return to the big top, I’ll search for more answers. If the Ringmaster finds out, he could punish not only me but anyone he deems as an accomplice.
Madame Zora holds the only key to any potential answers I might find. I have to know once and for all if Mercy is my soulmate, but an answer like that will require a grave sacrifice. The terrifying goddess of night and servant of the underworld doesn’t provide information for free. Before I can give it any more thought, a second wave of fear consumes my entire being.
The roar that rips from my body is so loud roofs shake below my haunting, misted wings. Guilt washes over me next, followed by an intense feeling of grief. I try to reach for her. My black, shadowy tendrils stroke at the mental connection, but they’re met with an impenetrable wall that singes each one. I recoil in pain, shifting somewhere between both forms, hurtling toward the ground. The impact of the hard earth rattles every bone in my half-formed body. Quickly, ignoring the tremendous pain erupting from everywhere, I become a shadowy mist once more.
A few wingbeats later, I’m safely back in the skies. I allow myself time to recover. The pain was unimaginable, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Even now, I feel the dull ache of the simmer against my shadows. My thoughts are scattered, but I know one thing for sure: I need to find Mercy. I have to know she’s okay.
Below me, the streets blur as I blast through the skies, scanning every part of the town in search of Seraphim. Fuck. I hate myself for pushing her away. If she’s dead—or if anything hurt her—or if she’s holding her dying cousin in her arms… I can’t bring myself to think about it any longer. My shadows have located the creature.
