My mouth has gone bone-dry. This can only be the daaknar, the beast that mauled the high priestess. And now it’s sizing up its next prey.
“By the fates …” With stiff movements, Annika steps backward, away from it.
It releases a guttural noise and hops up onto the back of the pew with ease, showing off sinewy hind legs that look powerful enough to launch it into the air, even if its wings fail it. Its head tips back to sniff the air, but its eyes never leave Annika as it sits perched like a gargoyle, waiting, allowing her to put some distance between them.
It’s waiting for its target to run so it can give chase before it kills her, as it killed the high priestess.
As it, or one of its kind, must have killed that woman in a factory parking lot.
My father has been telling the truth about what he saw all along.
Now is not the time to reexamine his delusions, though. Annika is about to be torn apart by this thing because she was helping me escape. Her death will be on my hands, another strike against me in the king’s eyes. While I might not deserve to take the blame for what happened before I woke up, letting this happen now will weigh like fault on my shoulders.
If Annika can get to the passage, the daaknar will not be able to follow her through that narrow space. She can get back to the castle and warn Zander.
Adrenaline thrums in my veins as I grab a gold-plated chalice from the altar. “Hey!” I throw it as hard as I can at the daaknar’s head. It catches the top of its horn, and the beast roars in response, swinging its glowing red eyes in my direction.
I ignore the shudder that courses through my body beneath that predatory gaze and reach for the next closest thing—a stone bowl that will be harder to throw but more painful if it hits its mark.
I whip it at the creature. This time, it lands squarely against its chest.
With another roar, this one laced with fury, the daaknar abandons its original target, leaping from pew to pew toward the dais, tearing chunks of wood with its razor-sharp claws.
I throw another chalice at it to keep its attention focused on me as I hiss, “Run!” I might be able to buy Annika enough time.
“You’re making it angry!” she hisses back.
“Isn’t this how you tame one of these things?” I mock, my fear numbing my legs.
“It’s going to kill you!”
“Still better than being burned alive.” I hope. I fumble for another object, anything I can throw at it. My fist closes over the hilt of a curved dagger, vaguely aware that it’s slick with blood. The weapon is not much, but it’ll have to do.
The floor beneath me quakes as the daaknar lands on the dais. I dismiss Annika from all thought, my focus now on how I might survive this thing. The way it looks at me as it ascends the steps, its lips unfurled to show a row of translucent yellowed teeth …
There is no taming something like this, even if I was the one who let it loose.
It stalks forward with heavy, snuffling breaths, slowing as if to decide which way around the altar it should take—right, past the carcass of its last kill, or left, around the front. This close, I can see the jagged barbs on the ends of its talons, useful to keep its prey in place.
I struggle to ignore the stench of its rotting flesh, curling my fist around the dagger’s hilt as I back away. If I can injure it enough to slow it down, maybe I can get to the passage, if Annika hasn’t already closed it. Otherwise, I’ll escape through the doors and give Boaz and his men something far more threatening than me to chase.
I give the candelabra a swift kick to send it sailing.
The daaknar swats it away as if it were nothing more than a fly. With a deep snarl, it lunges.
“Go!” I shout, stabbing upward with all my strength, driving the blade into its gut. Its answering roar rattles my eardrums. Not wasting a second, I turn and run.
I make it all of six feet before those barbed claws pierce my shoulder, carving through my flesh and bone. I howl in agony as it hauls me back, the pain excruciating. With its talons acting as hooks to anchor me in place, limiting my ability to squirm, it takes its time, brushing away the loose strands of hair from my neck with its other paw. The gesture is oddly gentle—almost human—and yet the tip of its claw scrapes across my cheek like a razor slicing skin, remind me that it is far from human.
Whatever crazed bravery drove me to challenge this thing has vanished, leaving me trembling in terror.
It leans in and inhales deeply, as if savoring the scent of a fragrant meal it’s about to devour. I’m vaguely aware of Sofie’s ring hot against my skin, but my thoughts don’t settle there long, too busy grappling with the reality that the figment of my father’s imagination is about to kill me.
The daaknar opens its maw and needlelike fangs extend from its upper jaw. A bloodcurdling scream rises to my throat as they sink into my neck. The burn is unbearable at first, but the pain fades quickly, as does any fight I have left.
Somewhere, far in the distance, my mind registers a shrill cry of agony before the darkness swallows me whole.
Chapter Nine
Sofie struggled to lift her limp body off the ground. She had never channeled that much power before—she doubted anyone had—and it left her near the point of oblivion. But now was not the time to surrender to weakness.
Something had happened.
She used every ounce of strength and the stone coffin to haul herself up to where the two bodies lay.
Malachi’s gift, embedded deep within Romeria’s chest and glowing with radiant flame, was quickly fizzling. As was the glimmer of light from the gold in her ring.
Sofie’s insides churned with nerves as she watched the tokens extinguish. Her task was complete. Now, there was nothing she could do but wait.
Wait—and pray the girl did not fail her.
She retrieved her engagement ring. The spells she had affixed to it were bound to Romeria’s new form now. There was no need to adorn a corpse.
A scraping sound pulled her attention behind her. She knew before turning that Malachi had returned, unbidden. She was on the verge of collapse, but she bowed as she did every time, dropping to her knees, her forehead touching the stone.
“Rise.”
The Fate of Fire stood before her with his horn fully restored. He had roared in agony when he severed it, but had promised it would return. “It is complete. She is now tied to Islor for as long as she lives.” His piercing gaze rolled over Sofie’s shape.
She knew what he had come for this time. Was this a requirement of all his elementals, or was she special in this way?
Shedding her clothes, she climbed onto the altar.
Chapter Ten
I wake to the toll of church bells and the memory of fetid flesh lingering in my nostrils.
I’d like to convince myself that it was all a terrible nightmare, that I’m back in my studio apartment in Chelsea with only Korsakov’s ire to worry about, but I’m lying in a bed that isn’t my own, and my body aches like never before.
I remember …
Annika leading me along secret passageways and steep stairs to the sanctum.
The grisly remains of the high priestess’s mutilated body behind the altar.
That monster with its red eyes and charred flesh, sinking its claws and teeth into my helpless body.