It feels like a violation—watching her without her knowledge—but my heart aches to see her again. I choke down the feeling, letting it rot in the abyss where it belongs. Gazing into the devil’s glass, her bedroom forms, as if I’m peering through a window. In her bed, beneath a worn quilt, Mercy glows with a soft, warm light. Her strawberry-gold hair flows across her pillow as she sleeps deeply and still. On top of the worn silk pillowcase is the flower I gave her. One slender hand rests across the stem, as if even in her sleep, Mercy longs for me.
The guilt is too much. I’m thrust back to the circus, and when I blink, the devil’s glass is empty. A loud set of footsteps pulls me from my thoughts, and I scurry to stand, hastily tucking the glass away, out of sight. I can’t risk him finding out I have it. In fact, it’s the last thing I need—though I suppose I’ve also grownsomewhat attached to it. Shrugging, I plaster a bored expression on my face just as the door creaks open and magic explodes, pulsing through the air and beneath my feet. Anywhere it can expand, it does. The amount of power is overwhelming, incapacitating, but my body fights the reaction.
Instead, I tuck my hands behind my back, bowing low before rising to tilt my chin up to meet his gaze.
Cold. Dark. Suffocating.
He stares me down with merciless eyes. I wait, silent, for him to speak. At last, the Ringmaster clears his throat, commanding my attention.
“Azrael,” he spits, a special loathing reserved only for me rolls off his tongue. “Have you found her yet?”
He wastes no time with small talk.
“Nothing new to report, your grace,” I reply, keeping my voice neutral.
He scoffs, annoyance dusting his facial features. “In the meantime, instead of wasting my time, I have a job for you.”
I fight the urge to react. Clenching my jaw, I force my face to remain indifferent. Unreadable. If he thinks I’m interested in doing his bidding when I should be searching for the girl who can break my curse, he’s delusional.
The Ringmaster signals me with a cough, urging me to play my part. One day, I’ll break free from this curse. Until then, I have no choice but to keep them happy.
“Anything you need, your grace. I’m at your disposal,” I snarl my reply more than I intend to, which earns me a sharp glare from both of them.
“Excellent,” he says. “There’s a hunter in the town. Somehow, it escaped through the portal. We couldn’t capture it in time. Now it’s in your realm, and your problem. Track it, contain it, then return it to me.” His words leave no room for refusal. Compliance is my only option.
Lucifer clicks his tongue in disapproval. “The Divine know you’re closing in on finding the key to the curse. It’s essential that we locate the girl first. We’re no longer the only ones aware of her presence.”
Irritation drenches his words as he stares me down, waiting for my binding acceptance. I can feel the hard edges of his magic pressing against my own. It slithers across my skin, waiting for my submission. He intends to make this a formal deal by tattooing our bargain on me until the task is complete.
“I’ll begin searching immediately,” I offer, lowering my eyes, but not out of respect. Let them think I’m eager to please them.
A hunter won’t be difficult to catch. I’ve tracked them before. They’re sneaky, but they don’t stand a chance. They’ve probably already assembled a horde of snatchers. I’ll have to locate thenest and destroy it. This job might take a week or more. If I didn’t know any better, I might think they didn’t actually want me to break the curse.
Pain lashes through me as the outline of a serpent sears into my skin, curling around my wrist like a shackle binding our agreement. It burns, but I don’t flinch. I won’t give him the satisfaction. I’ll find the hunter. Destroy the den. Then I’ll continue searching for the woman who can break my curse.
“It would appear we have an agreement. I expect you to complete this task quickly, Azrael. I don’t have time for games.”
“Yes, your grace,” I say with a bow, hoping his disdain for my company will be enough to drive him away now that he’s gotten what he came for.
He says nothing more. I watch them disappear together, fading out of the barn and into the darkness of night.
Chapter 3
Mercy
Warm rays of sunlight creep across my skin, dancing lightly over my cheeks, gently whispering for me to wake. I yawn and stretch, thankful for another beautiful day to enjoy. Determined to make the most out of my chores, I toss back the covers and swing my legs over the edge of the bed.
Before I emerge, I strain my ears for footsteps or yelling. The quiet presses in, but I don’t let myself relax. I know better than to trust the silence. I know better than to let my guard down. My father has never laid a hand on me, but that doesn’t stop him from yelling, nor does it keep me from fearing him. Several more minutes pass without so much as a whisper or a creaking floorboard. Every last bone in my body begs me not to fall for it, not to be lured into the false security of the silence that’s settled over the house. But I refuse to let fear dictate how I start my day.
Leaping out of bed, I dress quickly, tiptoeing across the wooden planks, silently begging them to keep my secrets. With adramatic spin and curtsy, I take a deep breath and balance on an imaginary tightrope from my bed to the door.
The hallway is empty. I slink cautiously to the kitchen and find my mother there, sitting at the small table, sipping a cup of tea. A list of chores for each of us rests beside her. She focuses on hand-stitching a delicate swatch of lace onto a dress for one of her clients. Embarrassed by the yellow and green bruises, she turns away to hide them.
“Mama, let me clean you up,” I whisper, hurrying to pull the first-aid kit from the drawer and a cloth to dab on the medicine. I fill a sachet with fresh lavender sprigs and other herbs on the sunlit windowsill, tie it with twine, and drizzle ointment on the cloth before pressing it gently to her cheekbone. “Is he gone?” I ask.
She nods.
“Go rest,” I whisper out of habit.
