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  Hazel looked down at her hands. Her fingertips were glowing again. “About last night.” She wanted to say so many things, but she wasn’t sure how to put them into words.

  Raven shoved her hands into her pockets. “Don’t worry about it. It was a weird night.” Raven stared with apprehension. She was guarding herself in a way she hadn’t the night before when she’d allowed Hazel to sneak a glimpse of the woman beneath the armor. Hazel wanted to banish the trepidation staring back at her, to let Raven know she could be trusted in any situation. She pulled Raven’s hands from her pockets and put them against her face, kissing the palms.

  “Hazel, I—”

  “Don’t.” She gently pressed her fingers against Raven’s lips. “Don’t write us off before we have a chance. Don’t take a curse from several hundred years ago and allow it to dictate what’s happening between us. Don’t let black magic determine your fate. Give me a chance. Give yourself a chance.”

  Hazel felt the shift in Raven’s emotions before she felt the lips pressing into her own. Last night, Raven was cautious, as if something in her was holding back. That wasn’t what Hazel felt now. Raven’s lips were hungry and determined. Wanting to express her approval and appreciation, Hazel put her fingers through Raven’s belt loops and nudged her closer. Raven’s hips pressing into her sent her mind careening in all directions. Hazel wanted more. She wanted to take Raven upstairs, lock the door, and take the time the two of them needed and deserved. She wanted to explore every part of Raven’s body and mind. Hazel maneuvered her hands under Raven’s shirt and felt her body hum when Raven’s muscles tightened beneath her touch. It was agonizingly short-lived.

  Raven pulled away, breathless. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Hazel wanted to protest, to beg her to stay. “Okay,” she said instead. “Please be safe.”

  Raven winked, then disappeared up the stairs.

  * * *

  Sarah paced, periodically checking to see if the door to her guestroom had unlocked and she could return downstairs to offer Morgan more heartfelt apologies. She prayed that what she had done out of desperation hadn’t heaped irreparable harm upon Hazel and Raven nor would further endanger them in their quest to rid the land of evil.

  She stopped at the door of the bathroom adjacent to her room as the sweet sound of Ayotunde’s humming emanated from inside. She closed her eyes and smiled at the purr of her voice, a soothing balm to her anxiety.

  She tapped on the door. “Ayotunde, you sound utterly enraptured.”

  “Come in, Miss Sarah.”

  Sarah opened the door to Ayotunde smiling at her from the tub, her body covered to her neck in bubbles.

  “Oh, this be a marvelous magic,” Ayotunde said and blew a handful of bubbles toward her.

  Sarah knelt beside the tub and smiled as she lightly flicked the bubbles. “’Tis just one of many enchantments.”

  Ayotunde’s eyes were animated. “The water…it pour right out of the spout. And it be hot. Surely, something this pleasing be the work of the devil himself.”

  Sarah giggled. “I think it not. But if it be, people seem not concerned.” She picked up a cloth and began gently washing Ayotunde’s back, letting warm water droplets cascade down her russet skin.

  Ayotunde let out a soft moan that sent a shiver through Sarah. She guided the soapy cloth farther down her back as her own body tingled with sensation.

  “Your Thomas came for you,” Ayotunde said after a while.

  Sarah stopped, startled by the mention of her husband’s name. “Did he?” She felt a sudden wave of shame because she had not thought of him much since her escape. “What say he to the jailors?”

  “He ask what price for your release.” Ayotunde went very still. “He yell and beseech the guards but they turn him away. He think you still be jailed.”

  Sarah sank to the floor in dejection, talking almost to herself. “My Thomas be a good man. Methinks he deserve a wife whose heart beat with proper warmth for him.”

  “And yours does not feel warmth?”

  “Aye, it does. But not for Thomas.”

  At that, Ayotunde turned around and gazed at her with a soulfulness Sarah felt deep within her. Sarah leaned over the side of the tub and kissed Ayotunde’s wet lips softly as a tide of passion rushed forward, a passion she knew was not hers alone.

  Ayotunde’s gleaming, soapy arm reached around Sarah’s head and held it firmly as they devoured each other’s lips with a craving Sarah had never dreamed existed. Her body screamed in a tempest of new, unusual sensations that startled her, yet she refused to pull away. She loved the taste of Ayotunde’s mouth, hungered for more of what she hadn’t known. All she felt was the desire to crawl into the tub so that they absorbed each other until they were one being.

  “Miss Sarah,” Ayotunde whispered. “I knew it be you my heart beat for. I be bound to you for all ages.”

  “Oh, Ayotunde, so much that I had not understood doth seem clear now, the melancholy I felt for so long since I marry Thomas. Then when father passed to his eternal rest and I discovered he will you to my brother against my entreaties to him…I thought my heart never to recover.”

  “But we here now, Miss Sarah.”

  “Aye. And I mean not to lose you again.”

  With a click of the lock, the guestroom door swung open, and Morgan appeared at the open bathroom door. “Well, here’s a turn even I didn’t see coming.”

  Sarah sprang to her feet, standing in front of the tub as if to shield Ayotunde. “Madame le Fay, ’tis not what it appears.”

  Morgan rolled her eyes. “Whatever it is, you do realize that in these times, and especially in this city, it’s fine. Do your thing, ladies.”

  “I know not what you mean of these times.” Sarah stepped aside, sensing she didn’t have to hide Ayotunde.

  “I mean, if you two love each other, go for it.”

  “I don’t understand,” Sarah said. “Our love be not an abhorrence?”

  “Oh, I didn’t say that,” Morgan replied. “Some still say it is. That’s why our three rogue demons have enjoyed such a quick ascent to power in this society, by manipulating ignorance and thus bending the gullible to their will. Which brings me to my purpose in crashing your little bubble party. Sarah, you need to join Hazel in a little seminar I like to call…” She spread her hand across the air as though seeing it on a marquee. “‘Harnessing your witchly powers.’ Pronto.”

  “And as for you…” She compelled Ayotunde to stand, bubble-covered, in the tub and tossed her a thick bath towel. “We have to meet with Madame Laveau to decide what we’re going to do with you.”

  “I beg of you, Madame le Fay, please do not send her back.”

  Morgan glared at Sarah. “I think you’ve made enough of the decisions in this matter for now. Why don’t you leave it up to the experienced ones to decide what’s next?”

  Sarah bowed her head and curtsied. “Aye, Madame.”

  Morgan exited the room in a flourish. Sarah and Ayotunde exchanged nervous smiles.

  “I fear Madame Laveau be sending me back,” Ayotunde said softly.

  “No, no. I shall not allow it, Ayotunde,” Sarah said, her throat thick with sadness. “I can’t lose you again.”

  “Like so much, the choice be not ours. But may it be that the power of my love for you forever keep me by your side.”

  “May God hear our prayers.” Sarah took the towel from Ayotunde and gently patted her chest and shoulders dry.

  “Next time, it be your turn for a back scrub,” Ayotunde said with a knowing grin.

  “Aye,” Sarah said, giggling through her tears.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Raven watched out her window as the small plane descended into the Roanoke airport. One of the many benefits of being able to utilize Morgan’s personal plane was that she could make this trip in just two hours instead of the twelve-hour drive she otherwise would’ve had to endure. The other major benefit was that she could bring all her necessary weapons wit
hout having to deal with TSA. It was never an easy task having to explain to a perplexed agent why she needed a dozen different types of blades, wooden stakes, and an assortment of silver- and gold-infused weaponry. If she were being honest, flying on a private plane made her feel rather important. If it weren’t for Morgan, she’d be stashed away on a middle seat somewhere over Nebraska waiting to change planes and undoubtedly sitting next to someone who didn’t take a great deal of concern regarding their personal hygiene.

  She thanked the flight crew and waited while one of Morgan’s guys dropped her bags into a small rental car.

  “Didn’t want to spring for an SUV, huh?” she asked as she walked around to the driver’s side.

  “Take it up with the boss, Dare,” the bulky man said as he walked back toward the plane.

  She’d been kidding, but clearly her brand of sarcasm was lost on the new guy. She’d tried to talk to him while they’d been on the plane, but he’d either nodded or shaken his head in response to her questions. She couldn’t even get him to reveal his name. Rude , she’d thought as she sipped her champagne, another perk of Morgan’s private transport.

  Raven drove the car off the tarmac and toward the outskirts of town. The first thing she needed to do was locate the demons, and to do that, she needed to retrace their steps. The only way to accomplish that was to double back to where she’d last seen Lucien. The thought of Lucien alone sent a shiver up her spine. He was unlike any demon she’d ever encountered. Demons tended to be simpleminded, unambitious followers. That was not what Lucien was at all. Was there a new, modernized breed of demon? Was that what the shift was? Had Sarah inadvertently started a chain reaction that none of them could have foreseen? She rolled her shoulders, trying to release some of the foreboding tension from her body. She reached into her backpack when she came to a stoplight and checked to make sure her weapons were in easy reach. They always were, but the reassurance was nice.

  She rolled down the window of the car, allowing the brisk, early fall air to hit her face. It smelled of recent rain and woodsmoke. It was the same smell that had filled her senses the night she’d met Hazel. She’d been trying to push thoughts of Hazel out of her mind since she’d left her a few hours ago, but they were here now. Before she left, Hazel had told her to give her a chance, and in that moment, it had seemed like a lovely premise. Raven took lots of chances with her life, with her safety, with the realms. But never when it came to matters of the heart. Entertaining the idea, even for a passing second, made her a bit queasy. Even if she allowed herself to fall for Hazel, it would never come to anything. She was bound to Morgan in perpetuity. If she dissolved their relationship, walked away from being a shadowhunter, her uncle would die. She couldn’t and wouldn’t do that to him. Plus, Morgan would never allow it. No, it had to be just those few stolen moments, those few fleeting seconds of promise. Raven had allowed herself brief encounters with women over the years, but they never lasted more than a night or two. That was all Morgan would allow. She’d never have more, and it was pointless to wish for it. Hazel was new to this world, to understanding that curses, no matter how old, still carried their original significance. But those eyes. They held so much hope, acceptance, concern. No one had ever looked at her the way Hazel had before she left; no one had ever looked so directly into her soul.

  Raven turned into the parking lot behind the convention center. She leaned forward on her steering wheel and looked up at the building. This is as good a place to start as any. She grabbed her bag and opened the door.

  Her senses took over as she stepped from the vehicle. A high-pitched howl emanated from somewhere behind her, and the smell of fire and death filled her nose. She withdrew one blade from her backpack, another from her waist, turning to face the beast gaining on her with each passing second.

  Only one creature made that sound, only one with a stench so foul she could identify it from miles away. Only one that had the capability of tracking down a shadowhunter: hellhound , about as nasty a creature as one could encounter. Raven had only ever seen one hellhound before this, and it had belonged to Morgan. They were used by the witches to drag misplaced demons back to Hell. This fact alone sent a million questions through Raven’s mind, none of which she had the time to process now. It didn’t matter if the hellhound was from some rogue witch or Morgan herself.

  It moved into her peripheral vision and looked to be about five feet, even on all fours. Its teeth would put an alligator to shame. They were like small spikes erupting from frothing jaws. With paws the size of shovels, its nails looked like they could rip through prey as if they were nothing more than tissue paper. Whatever it wanted, she wasn’t going to let it tear her apart like a cheap carnival prize.

  As the thing charged her, extraordinary muscles rippled through its shoulders and legs, while its eyes burned red hot with hellfire. If it wasn’t planning to obliterate her, she’d be awed by such raw, mesmerizing beauty. Raven tightened her grip around each of the blades, one infused with silver, the other gold. The hellhound lowered its head as it got closer, showing the teeth that could rip a car door off its hinges. Raven ran straight at it, hoping the change in the sport of predator versus prey would throw the hound off its game.

  As they collided, she felt the scorching breath on her neck as the beast struggled against the gold blade at its throat. The more it struggled and pushed, the more intense the aroma of burning hair and flesh became. The hound seemed unfazed as its teeth snapped for her face and throat. Raven’s feet were slipping as she struggled to find a weak point of some kind, anything to create an advantage. She didn’t want to kill it. She needed to see who had sent it, to know who wielded this level of power.

  The creature lifted a massive paw and batted Raven to the side. Claws ripped her from her ribs to her brain, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream at the blinding flash of pain.

  She had less than ten minutes to treat the wound before the poison devoured whatever soul she had. A gash of this magnitude from a hellhound was enough to kill a shadowhunter. Holding her side, she tried to bring her vision back into focus, the pain blurring everything around her. She knew it was coming back. Even through the pain, her skin prickled its warning. She gritted her teeth through the agony, turning both blades upward. It leapt at her again. She watched through one eye, the other stuck fast by blood as the hellhound’s teeth rushed for her throat. The only way to defeat a hellhound was to plunge a silver and gold knife into both of the creature’s hearts at the same time. She’d only have one opportunity. Rallying the last of her energy, she thrust the blades under both of its shoulders. It yelped, staggered for a few feet, then collapsed on the ground, a writhing mass.

  Raven crawled to the body to inspect the brand that was always burned into a hellhound’s hindquarters. She wasn’t sure if the injuries she’d inflicted would be lethal, but if they were, the creature would dissolve into ash before she had the chance to identify who was responsible.

  Every movement sent another shock of excruciating pain through her body. The poison was working faster than anticipated. She needed to get to her bag and retrieve the vial that contained the antidote, but the creature was twitching as it gave in to its final breaths. Ignoring the flash of white-hot pain, she reached out and dug through its fur.

  “Holy shit,” she said as a myriad of thoughts rushed through her mind.

  She made it the few feet back to her bag and prayed her hands wouldn’t stop working before she could obtain the vial and save herself. Every part of her body began stiffening, seeming to atrophy before the other realm had officially claimed her. She bit off the cap from the vial and dumped the contents into her mouth. She lay back on the pavement and waited for the medicine to combat the poison.

  Staring up at the sky, she smelled the infected pus as it ejected from her body and dripped onto the pavement. The medicine was doing its job. As she struggled to remain conscious, images of Hazel sputtered behind her eyelids. Hazel watching her, reaching for her, touching her. Th
en, the brand on the back of the hellhound, a single flame, curved into the letter B. This only meant one thing, and she wasn’t even sure it was possible.

  * * *

  Lucien paced in the small room, running his fingers along a compact knife. He felt his knees give out, and his body fell to the floor. Blaise entered the room as a wave of heat and anger engulfed the space. Blaise snapped his fingers, and Tammi Lee and Dirk appeared alongside Lucien, their bodies posed in the same position.

  “Master, to what do I owe this honor?” Lucien choked out through labored breath. The heat in the room was suffocating.

  “It has been several days, and you’ve given me nothing,” the voice roared. “Where is my witch, my shadowhunter? You disappoint me.”

  Lucien tried to lift his head to look at the all-powerful entity he had pledged his soul to, but he couldn’t move against the force. “I sent your hellhound to find them. It shouldn’t be long now.”

  Tammi Lee seemed to be struggling against the same weight Lucien was feeling. He saw her trembling as she tried to speak. “It would be much faster if you could tell us where to look.”

  Blaise banged his massive staff into the floor. “The shadowhunter belongs to Morgan. I am unable to see or feel her. White witches are cloaked from my vision. Do you honestly think I’d be wasting my time with you three if I could handle this myself? Your incompetence is mind-boggling.”

  “We’ll take care of it, Master. You have my word.” Lucien tasted the salt of his sweat coating his lips. Blaise’s power knew no bounds, and it was intoxicating. “We will not fail you.”

  Blaise took a step toward him and apprehended him by the neck, lifting him off the ground. “If you fail me, your soul will be forsaken to a corner of Hell that even the most prolific poet could not dream into existence. The only thing you will be able to feel is the skin melting from your bones and demons devouring your scorched flesh.” Blaise released him and disappeared.

  Lucien fell, pawing at his throat. He rolled over on his side, watching Tammi Lee and Dirk try to catch their breath. He crawled to the table and retrieved three bottles of water. He guzzled his, desperate to rid himself of the burning sensation deep in his lungs as the other two did the same.