When I lift it and find it much heavier than it should be, my stomach grumbles its thanks as I hug my cousin goodbye.
Chapter 4
Azrael
Islink through the dusk-streaked streets, keeping to the shadows. The setting sun casts long silhouettes, making it easy to blend into my surroundings. Hours of hunting snatchers has finally paid off. I spotted this one leaving the ocean market—much closer to the docks than where I normally see them. I’d hoped it would lead me to the hideout where they all gather, slaves to the orders of the hunter. But I know better than to expect such luck. Instead, he’s drawn me farther from the markets and into the sleepy town, where the smell of dinner seeps from small houses into the streets.
His gleaming black eyes flick toward the alley where I crouch, waiting for the snatcher to continue his trek. He’s been acting suspicious for a few blocks. I’ll have to make a move soon or risk losing him entirely.
Snatchers are the worst kind of parasite. Hollow-eyed, patient, and lethal. This one pauses at the alley’s edge, as if it sensesme. They never act unless they’re certain of silence and prey. In Hell, we bury them deep—half-rotted and forgotten. Only a ripe soul can awaken them from their lifeless slumber. But in the human realm, once inside a host, they burrow beneath the skin and feed until nothing remains. The longer they go without, the hungrier they become. This one’s starving, but not enough to risk exposure. I clench my jaw, grinding my teeth in rhythm with the pulse of anticipation searing through my throat. I’ve seen what happens when they slip past me—what they leave behind. That kind of silence doesn’t fade. Tonight, I end this one before another family wakes to an empty bed.
My monstrous fangs ache to be unleashed on him, to claim his soul and all his spoils. My fingers flex against my sides as I entertain the thought of draining him.
All mine.
Fuck Lucifer and his ridiculous tasks.
The magical lures pulsating through the earth are like a siren’s call. They lure all creatures, no matter their strength, pulling them back to our realm. Unfortunate for this human town, but every good trap needs bait. We capture them as fast as we can, a task assigned to me the moment I was strong enough to overpower them. Once captured, the Ringmaster sends the prisoners back to the depths of Hell—where they’re bound and broken. Nothing more than shadow and bone.
Secret doors lie hidden across the property. Each one a gateway to somewhere distant, some a one-way trip to eternaldamnation. The portals were the first thing the Ringmaster forced me to memorize once my training began. With my traitor father now ruling the underworld Kingdom of Shadow and Bone, I’m the only one who can make things right.
The grunt work he uses to keep me busy might feel like a waste of my time, but hunting snatchers is what keeps the scales from tipping. Balance must be maintained. Our realm serves Hell by tracking, containing, and extraditing anything that escapes eternal damnation.
The Ringmaster—my grandfather—confided in me years ago that before my father betrayed us and stole the throne, he was Lucifer’s favorite son. Our realm is the most crucial link between the human world and the underworld. Without us, humanity wouldn’t survive.
I shake my head, focusing on the present. I don’t have time—nor the desire—to think about my father. I’ve never hated anyone as much as I loathe the man who passed his curse on to me. My muscles tremble, flexed and ready, every inch of me coiled like the predator I am. Beneath my skin, rage simmers, begging to be unleashed.
A breeze blows. The air stiffens. Something shifts in the universe. But it feels all wrong. Whatever it is… it doesn’t belong here. The magic in the air ripples and strains, lashing out in warning. With a flick of my wrist, my shadows climb and swirl around my body, cloaking me in the comforting embrace of night.
Tendrils of shadow stroke along my skin in soothing motions, whispering their vow of protection in a language only I can understand. I’m not afraid of death. Iamdeath.
The stench hits next. Rot and rancid meat. My eyes burn. His host body is already decaying. That means he either just escaped… or he’s been starving himself to savor the hunt. I know the thrill all too well.
He stands still in the alley, unmoving, cloaked in a long dark trench coat. Most of them wear something like that so they can keep candy or chloroform-soaked rags in their pockets. Finally, after a pause that strains the limits of my cramping legs, he moves. The snatcher spins on his heels, flying down a side alley with a whoosh, and I lose sight of him for a moment.
Hot on his trail and nothing more than a swirling shadow, I follow him, silent and unseen. But when I close in, I freeze, hovering midair, still as a shadow and nothing more. My mind screeches in terror. A fear so deep, wisps of night swirl around me, tightening their protective hold as they sense imminent danger.
Despite the way my soul thrums—worry pulsing in each beat I push the shadows outward, stripping away their protective shields and sending the long, snaking waves through the alley. They stretch forward to encircle Mercy. She’s just strolled straight into danger—unaware and unprotected. Right into the clutches of an assassin, ready and waiting for her.
My possessive instincts unfurl, lashing out like a whip, snapping into white-hot rage.
Not Mercy.
They can’t touch her. I won’t allow it.
The questions buzz in my head, a pesky annoyance clouding my thoughts. Why is she here? What is she doing out alone, this late into the evening when the dark is already set in?
The snatcher wasn’t leading me back to the horde. He was leading me to her—his next victim. The one he’s been starving himself for. Guilt consumes every corner of my very existence. How could I have left her so vulnerable? What if I hadn’t been here?
I don’t have time for questions. Quickly, I survey my surroundings as my shadows twine around Mercy’s ankles. I issue the mental command, ordering them to tangle around her ankles. I need her to slow down.
She stops—pinned in place, my shadows lapping at her feet in soothing waves. They hold her steady until I can get closer. I lean into my senses, savoring the feel of her, against my lurking tendrils of darkness.
It’s not enough though, the electric shift of magic in the air has me snapping back into razor focus. My eyes gleam—cold, empty, starved—as I pin the snatcher with my stare. Mercy’sface contorts in horror. Fear surges through my bond, her terror lacing itself into my veins.
Deafening silence fills my ears as an eerie chill settles over the alley. The snatcher tilts his head, as if he too feels the subtle shift—the unease as the Fates pull their thread tight, waiting to sever Mercy’s connection to this world. His decaying nostrils flare as he scents her fear. At any moment, he could snap. The slightest movement alerts my focused stare: a twitch of his fingers at his side as he fights the urge to pounce.
Not on my fucking watch. This world vanishes in a blur as an impenetrable darkness swallows me. I step once. Twice. Envisioning where I want to appear, and then a third step. My eyes snap open, and the darkness clears. I’ve arrived on the other side of the alley, safely positioned behind Mercy, a barrier between her and the snatcher. She just has to run—my shadows will shield her from his descent.
