“Kas,” I shouted. “I need to go back for Orion!”
Kas looked startled, then frowned. “Of course. But shouldn’t you bring the grimoire back to the City of Thorns first? He’ll be fine. He’s Orion.”
“He’s survived worse than a few mortals,” added Legion.
I gripped the book tight against me. “No. Our magic wasn’t working with that poison. I won’t let the mortals break him again.”
I was already rushing to my feet when Legion touched my arm. “Wait. Shouldn’t you leave the book with us?”
My gaze slid between the two of them, and the thought still nagged at the back of my thoughts—someone had tipped off the demon hunters. “Shai never showed up at the south entrance. Where is she?”
Legion shook his head. “She’s not answering her phone. We couldn’t find her. But you don’t think she would…” His sentence trailed off. “She wouldn’t have left you there on purpose, Rowan.”
Kas scrubbed his hands over his mouth. “Sadly, no one is above mistrust. Not even our dearest friends.”
“And that’s exactly why I’ll be keeping the book with me.” I pulled the glass from Legion, the one filled with the antidote. “Thank you both for getting me to safety. I’ll see you in the City of Thorns.”
They were shouting after me to leave the book with them for safety. As long as I brought it back to Orion, he could still win.
But the fact was, at this point, I trusted Orion more than I trusted them.
31
ROWAN
I felt it for the first time—the unrestrained panic of knowing Orion was in danger. My twin star. Even if he didn’t realize his soul was calling to me, it was. He needed me now, and nothing would stop me from getting to him.
Our separation was a sharp physical pain in my chest.
What if he thought I’d abandoned him on purpose?
The thought made my heart slam against my ribs. He’d sacrificed himself to the demon hunters so I’d have a chance to escape, giving up the book, the crown, his life—
I wouldn’t let them break him again.
Racing west, I soared over autumn leaves the color of hellfire under a cool blue sky.
I’d rip Jack’s head from his body if he killed Orion. I’d leave nothing behind of that mansion but a dusty miasma of blood and bone. Darkness unfurled inside me—shadows that I’d always kept wrapped up tightly. The demon in me that craved blood, vengeance.
I swooped down on the clearing where the mansion stood, and the scent of mortal blood filled the air around me.
I crossed to the stone marking the door and kicked it open. The door slammed off its hinges, and I stepped inside. I tucked the book under one arm and gripped the antidote with the same hand. If any mortals showed up with dart guns again, I’d be ready to unleash flames from my fingertips.
Apart from the portraits of demon hunters above the wainscoting, I found the hall empty.
I sniffed the air, inhaling blood, burnt wood, and the scent of fear.
I wasn’t just Rowan now, but a demon who hunted by scent. And when I heard footfalls behind me, I reacted immediately. I had no time for coherent thoughts, just my hands gripping a mortal throat and slamming his head against the wall. I hit him hard enough to make him panic, not enough to knock him out. His eyes snapped wide open so I could see the whites, like a frightened horse.
“Where is your prisoner?” I hissed. “The incubus.”
His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, so I drew out my claws against his neck. He let out a whimper as I drew blood.
“If you scream,” I whispered, “I’ll kill you. Now tell me, is there a dungeon? A jail?”
I’d be killing him either way. Were these Orion’s methods? Yes. But I was a demon now, and it seemed I needed the ruthless efficiency of violence to protect those I loved. I’d keep him safe, and I knew he’d do the same for me.
“Where is he?” I demanded.
“O-on this floor.” he stammered. “The northern wing. We don’t have a dungeon or anything like that. We’re not the monsters. He’s chained to a chair in the drawing room.”
“He’s just in an open room?”
He shook his head. “There are bars, like a prison cell.”
“Tell me exactly how I get in, mortal, or when I come back to find you, I’ll slowly drag your entrails from your body.”
“The code is…it’s 1486,” he stammered.
The year the Malleus Maleficarum was written.
For an instant, I released my hold, and then I slashed my silver claws against his throat. His blood arced from his neck as he fell to the floor. I couldn’t risk him pulling the alarms as soon as I left.