She butchered.

That’s when Gemma knew who this woman was! The Abbess Butcher!

She’d always thought the Abbess Butcher—called just the Abbess among the sects—was a tale told to scare novitiates. But her existence made sense. How else would a convent filled with virginal, defenseless women be able to protect itself except to choose one nun to be trained in the art of killing? So while her sisters were lost in peaceful love, prayer, and contemplation of their god, there was one among them who was prepared to destroy any man or men who thought a convent in the middle of nowhere might be ripe for the plucking.

“Behind you,” Gemma told Quinn.

“Huh?”

The centaur couldn’t stop watching the white-robed nun brutally killing everyone around her, but he really needed to stop. Because their job was not nearly done.

Gemma grabbed Quinn’s shoulders and spun him around. He raised his sword in time to stop the axe aimed for his head.

“Thanks!” he yelled at her before diving into the soldiers coming for him.

Gemma buried her own sword in the belly of another soldier, then took his weapon. She used both swords to slash her way through the soldiers closest to her. She kept an eye out for the wizards that usually accompanied Cyrus’s soldiers, but that must be only for the legions and field armies.

Still, there were more than a hundred soldiers to battle and they’d only gone through about fifty. But before she could worry about the next fifty, Gemma saw ten abruptly drop. Quickly and without warning. She stepped back, her swords raised and ready.

Something whizzed under and near her before sliding up and around the legs and bodies of several soldiers she’d been facing. The creatures were inky black and once they were near their victims’ faces, they pulled back enough to reveal snake heads. The soldiers screamed but the snakes bit into their necks or lips or eyeballs. The soldiers died quickly from the poison but the deaths were painful. Seconds later, the snakes were gone, turning to liquid and evaporating into the ground beneath the bodies of the dead.

Lightning lashed from the sky and skittered across the ground, striking three more soldiers and roasting them to death.

Aubin and Léandre appeared next to the Abbess with their black spears. She’d already put the two pieces of her staff back together, allowing the priests to decimate the remainder of the soldiers, while she batted away any that came too close. That way, it was the priests who could claim the glory; their male pride would not be harmed by a woman possibly showing them up with her battle skills. How nice for them.

“Now can we leave?” Balla demanded once the soldiers were all dead.

“Where are the witches?” Gemma asked Balla.

“You are joking, aren’t you?” Disgusted that the witches didn’t even attempt to help, Gemma moved toward the Abbess.

“Come with us,” she urged the nun.

She glanced at Balla, raised an eyebrow. “You travel with pagans.”

“True. As well as witches and assassins. But it would still be good if you come. Safer for you at least.”

“Come where?”

“To Queen Keeley.” Gemma grinned. “Actually . . . I would love for her to meet you. I don’t think she’s ever met a nun. At least not a real nun.”

Quinn snorted, covered it with a cough, and quickly turned away.

* * *

“I appreciate the offer,” the Abbess replied. “And gladly accept. Unfortunately, I don’t have a horse. I’ve been traveling on foot.”

“You can take my horse,” Quinn offered. “Scandal. He’ll appreciate how lightweight you are.”

“But if I take your horse, what will you ride, good sir?”

Quinn paused, realizing she hadn’t seen him in his true form, so how direct should he be in answering that question?

Balla stared at him and asked, “Yes, good sir, how will you ride?”

Now the priests and the assassins were staring at him too. Even Gemma was staring. It was uncomfortable because they were all waiting for him to be the one to tell this poor nun what he was, and he wasn’t sure how she would take it. Just because the nun was good in a fight didn’t mean she was worldly enough to have met centaurs. For all he knew, she might never have been outside her convent before now. And it was traumatic enough to see her white robes covered in all that blood. Now this!

“Well, good lady . . .” He paused again, still unsure. He wasn’t used to being unsure about anything.

“Yes?” the nun said, innocently blinking up at him.

“Yes . . . ?” Gemma pushed and he thought about dumping the war monk on her ass. Maybe later, though.

“I don’t want you to worry, Sister, when I say this . . . um . . . the reason I don’t have to be concerned about my horse is because I am a centaur. So I’m actually half horse.”

The nun blinked a few more times before responding with, “I see.”

“But like I said, you don’t have to worry. You’re safe with me,” Quinn earnestly promised.

The nun gave the sweetest smile and patted his arm. “And I want you to know that the centaur I disemboweled about seven years back was attacking me, and as long as I’m safe with you, you are absolutely safe with me. I would never disembowel a friend. Okay?”

“Uhhhh . . . oooookay.”

She reached up and rubbed his shoulder. “Good. Very good.”

The nun followed the priests to their horses. Balla and Priska rushed off after them, both women giggling. The divine assassins trailed behind both women, and even with the lower half of their faces covered, Quinn knew they were also laughing at him.

When the rest of their companions were gone, Quinn turned to Gemma and asked, “What the fuck was that?”

Gemma shook her head. “I . . . uh . . . wish I could tell you.” She playfully punched his chest. “But, hey. At least she wasn’t shocked by what you are.”

“Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”

She grabbed his arm and tugged him back toward the horses.

“These days, centaur, it really is.”

CHAPTER 17

It was a long, hard ride home with only a few hours of sleep at night and only a few breaks during the day, breaks that were more for the horses than for the rest of them.

But the hard ride also kept their small group from one another’s throats. With all of them devout practitioners of one religion or another, if they weren’t riding, eating, or sleeping, they were praying or meditating.

But war monks didn’t pray or meditate when they were on a mission. They felt their battle-ready gods would want them to remain alert and ready for any attacks from enemies.

Yet Gemma didn’t notice anything unusual when they were about ten miles from the castle gates. Nor did the witches or the priests or the temple virgins. It was none of the humans that noticed anything.

It was Quinn.

They’d briefly stopped at a stream to let their horses get some water when Quinn’s centaur body began to turn in circles, his hooves stomping as he gawked at the ground.

“What’s wrong with him?” Aubin demanded.

Gemma didn’t know, but this wasn’t like Quinn.

“Stop!” the centaur ordered when she came near. He shook his head and massive antlers exploded from his skull, fangs from his gums.

Gemma had seen Quinn’s battle form before. She’d fought beside him like this many times, so she wasn’t exactly shocked by it. The others, however . . .

Weapons were unleashed, spells readied, but she raised her fist.

“Hold!” she commanded.

“What is he doing?” Aubin wanted to know.

“Just back off!”

Quinn stopped moving, stared at Gemma. “You really don’t see it? None of you see it?”

“Don’t see what?”

“The tracks. Horses. Carts. I’m counting”—he looked down at the ground again—“I don’t know. Hundreds of soldiers. And not our soldiers.”

Gemma immediately gazed down at her feet but she saw nothing. She knew Quinn wasn’t insane. He also wasn’t human.

“Balla,” she called out.

“Wouldn’t the witch be better . . . ?” the vicar began to suggest.

She wasn’t going to waste her time. “Balla.”

The temple virgin moved forward until she was near Quinn. She raised her hands, closed her eyes.

“Some power has been used here,” she finally muttered after many minutes of silence, her voice dragging out. “Something very powerful. It’s blocking our sight.” She turned in a circle. “It’s . . . like it’s . . . almost fighting me. Fighting us. Fighting—”

Her eyes snapped open, her gaze locked on a spot behind Gemma.

Gemma turned and saw a figure standing by some trees. She should have noticed him before. How could she have missed him in those dark red robes that covered him from head to toe with gloves covering his hands and a hood covering his face?

Balla growled and began to unleash a spell but her enemy was faster, lifting the priestess off the ground without touching her and starting to wring her neck. Priska ran to Balla’s side, grabbing her around the legs and attempting to bring her to the ground.

The priests, assassins, and even the witches quickly moved forward to counterattack but they were tossed back so quickly and violently that Gemma could do nothing but pull her sword and take a battle stance. She had to admit, she didn’t feel that would do much at the moment.

Thankfully, Quinn took his place beside her. The hooded head moved, but without being able to see their attacker’s face, they had no idea where he was looking and no way to guess what he might be planning next.

Quinn’s tail twitched and Gemma knew he was about to make a move, but before he could, the Abbess slowly stepped between their group and the red-robed man.

“Ahhhh,” a low voice said from inside that red hood. “Abbess Hurik.”

“Ludolf.”

“It’s been a long time.”