“You know I can’t do that creature. What information would you trade to avoid punishment for your escape?” I ask, trying to negotiate.
“I’ll tell you nothing unless you free me.” It hisses.
I shrug and plunge my sword the rest of the way through, then bite its head off, swallowing it whole. Blood and shadow slick my throat as I devour the foul thing, silencing its final plea. Wrapping the Leyak’s limp tail around my arm, I yank the sword out and sheath it. I’ll clean it off back at the manor. My wings beat harder as I go soaring past the market and over the ocean, dropping the carcass where it won’t wash up on any nearby shores.
The body hits the water with a splash and vanishes beneath the waves. I disappear into the night, cutting through the clouds and trailing shadow like a storm. I return to the circus triumphant, ready to present my spoils to Lucifer with my head held high.
The cool, misty air kisses my skin as I pass through the barrier. He’s here—Lucifer. I sense him with the Ringmaster. I descendlanding lightly on the rooftop. Shingles skitter underfoot. I steady myself, open the bond, and search for them. Glimpses of the Ringmaster’s office flash in my mind. I burst into shadow and reappear sitting in a high-backed wing chair between them in the smoke-steeped office.
“Azrael, I assume you’ve completed your assignment,” the Ringmaster sneers, glaring down his nose at me.
I hold up the large glass jar, filled to the brim with the inky black liquid. His jaw drops in surprise. He chokes on the smoke from his burning emberleaf but quickly recovers.
“For you both,” I say casually, glancing at Lucifer. “Consider it an apology for my delay.”
Lucifer grins wide. “Excellent. Apology accepted.”
I hand the jar to him, watching the jealousy flare in the Ringmaster’s eyes. Lucifer claps his hands. “Glasses. This calls for a toast.”
A serving tray appears on the table, bearing three crystal glasses. I don’t dare refuse—not with him. He twists open the lid and pours the dark liquid, sealing the jar again and slipping it into his jacket. Seems he has no intention of sharing with the Ringmaster after all. He hands us each a glass, raising his own in the air.
“A toast,” Lucifer purrs. “To Azrael. Slayer of filth. Collector of debts… even if fashionably late.”
I tip the glass. Souls pour over my tongue like warm velvet—honeyed with agony. I swallow slowly, relishing the way they settle into my bones.The others drink, glasses drained and returned to the try, which vanishes from sight.
Lucifer stands to leave. Clearly, our presence is no longer required. He was waiting to see if I’d fail. Now that I haven’t, he’s done. He dips his chin. “Gentlemen. Until next time.”
He walks to the fireplace and disappears in a flash of flame. I stand to leave, and so does the Ringmaster. The back of his hand strikes my face. I rub my jaw, biting back the urge to rip him to shreds. My eyes flash in warning.
“What was that for?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“Never embarrass me like that again,” he seethes.
I freeze, biting my tongue, rage pulsing in my gut. One strike. One movement. That’s all it would take to bury him in the floorboards. But I let the moment pass. My power curls inward, like a blade sheathed too long.
One day,I muse.One day I’ll destroy him and take this realm for myself.
Soon.
He scowls once more, then walks into the fireplace and vanishes. I follow him, stepping out in my bedroom—exhausted, sore, and ready for some restorative sleep. But first, I need to clean up.
Chapter 33
Mercy
It’s early in the morning. The sun has only just begun to rise, painting the sky full of color. Azrael will come for me tomorrow, which makes today a day of goodbyes. I scan my room. It’s been my home, my safe space, my solitude for all my life. As I look over each wall slowly, I dwell on the memories, good and bad. When I’ve finished reminiscing, I stretch, climbing slowly from my bed, and begin braiding my hair in a crown. On my windowsill sits a fresh flower. That’s strange. I thought I dreamed of Azrael briefly, but I don’t remember the details. Regardless, I weave the flower into my braid, then dress quickly in the clothes my mother laid out.
She’s waiting for me in the kitchen with her cloak and an oversized, worn sunhat. She hands me a cup of tea and hugs me tightly. “Be quick, my dear sweet girl. I’ve relayed the information to your uncle, and Miriam will be waiting for you at the stands. You’ll only have a short time to slip away.”
“Thank you, Mother.” I whisper, biting back the tears threatening to fall endlessly down my face.
I never imagined goodbye would be so difficult, considering all we have endured, but there’s something undeniably melancholy about the entire ordeal, despite knowing we’re leaving for a better life.
Gulping down the tea, I shove a handful of berries from the garden into my mouth. They’re sweet and tangy, just enough to get me by until I return. Once I’ve finished a few handfuls, I put on my shoes, wrap the cloak around my shoulders, and place the hat on my head. I stand in front of my mother, waiting for her assessment.
“Perfect,” my mother gasps, “No one will ever suspect you’re not me. Hurry now. Say your goodbyes and return with the basket your uncle sends.”
“Yes, Mother.” I hug her tightly, then slip out of the house and down the road.
