“By the hearts of peace,” the Abbess gasped. “I know this place. The other sisters come here at dawn to pray.”

“She’s purposely defiling this area,” Aubin growled.

“Then we stop her,” Gemma replied, before quickly moving on.

Ima led the way until she cried out and suddenly ran forward, dropping down next to one of the other witches. Stretched out on the ground with blood pouring from her eyes, Wassa pointed.

Adela held the puppy between her hands, smiling at them.

Léandre charged forward but when he was about ten feet from her, he flew back as if he’d hit a wall or a tree head-on. Blood poured from his forehead and nose.

Balla threw lightning bolts but they simply bounced off and nearly struck Quinn, forcing him to drop to the ground.

The assassins unleashed poison into the ground. It moved across the earth like snakes, sliding under Adela’s protective barrier. But she pressed her foot into the dirt and the grass around her froze, stopping the poison in place.

Gemma didn’t bother to attack with her weapon, she simply walked up to where she assumed the barrier was.

“Give me that dog, Adela.”

“Hand over all this power?” the witch asked. “You don’t even want it. And your idiot sister doesn’t even know what she has.”

Gemma’s hands twisted into fists at her sides. “Talk about my sister again.”

“And you’ll what . . . War Monk? What will you do? While I hold so much power in my hands?”

“It’s a dog.”

“See what I mean? So much power and it’s wasted on all of you.”

The Abbess circled around the barrier, sizing it up. Tapping at it with her battle staff.

Standing again, Quinn moved toward it, but the Abbess shook her head. He felt he could get through any magickal protection created by the witch, but he’d let the others take the lead for now. Maybe it was wiser to make his move when it was absolutely necessary.

“Just give me the dog, witch.”

Adela chuckled and held the dog up so she could stare into its fiery eyes. She began chanting and, within a few seconds, the puppy began to mewl and whine, twisting and turning in the witch’s hands. Soon it began to scream. It was in pain and even though Gemma didn’t care about the hell beasts, she did not like to see any animal—hell beast or not—tortured.

Gemma slammed her fists against the barrier, screaming, “Let it go, Adela! Let it go!”

Ima ran to the barrier, pressing her fingers against it and beginning her own chant. The gentle winter wind grew loud and wild, so strong the tops of the trees began to bend.

Startled, Gemma stepped back. Then she pulled her sword.

“Go!” Ima yelled over the screaming wind. “Go now!”

Gemma raised her weapon and began to charge toward Adela. Just as she reached the witch, about to strike, another blade was thrust into the witch from behind, tearing through Adela’s chest and forcing Gemma back.

But she shot her hand out in time to catch the puppy as it was dropped by Adela.

Eyes wide, Adela looked over her shoulder. “You?”

The blade tore up higher until it reached the witch’s throat. When it pulled out and the body dropped, it was the truce vicar who stood there.

He took a moment to wipe the blood off his curved blade, using the witch’s gown.

“When we truce vicars need things to go a certain way,” he said over the dying winds, “we don’t let things like witches get in our way. Who has time for that?”

Ferdinand stepped over the body, briefly stopping to tuck his blade under his robes.

“Who has time to reason with the unreasonable?” he asked before throwing his arms wide and greeting Keeley with one of his happy grins and a “My queen! So good to see you on such a beautiful morning!”

His wide-open arms blocked the sight of the dead witch behind him, and the rest of them moved in to make sure Keeley saw nothing as she walked into view.

“Morning, Lord Ferdinand.” She looked around as she moved. “Felt like a storm was coming, didn’t it?”

“Our meeting is still happening, yes?”

“Yes, yes. I just need to find—Gemma! You found her!” Keeley immediately scooped the puppy out of her sister’s arms, her smile so wide and happy that it nearly blinded them all.

“Hello, little one. I’m so glad to see you again.” She leaned in and whispered, “I didn’t know how I was going to tell your mother I’d lost you.” Now she looked at Gemma. “She’s her mother’s favorite. So, excellent job.”

Keeley turned around and headed back toward the castle. The truce vicar smiled at Gemma and followed the queen.

They began to relax but Keeley suddenly turned around and asked Gemma, “Is everything okay? You all look a little unwell.”

“Yes, we’re fine. Why?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to make sure.” Rubbing the puppy against her chin, she headed off again.

When they were all sure the queen wasn’t coming back, they turned toward what was left of the witch.

“What should we do with her body?” Balla asked.

“We can leave it for the wildlife,” Tadesse suggested. “They’ll eat her. She deserves no better.”

Quinn shook his head. “Are we not going to discuss what we just witnessed—the peaceful truce vicar stabbing the witch? Because I feel that’s something we should discuss. In detail.”

Gemma frowned. “But he explained it. She was in his way.”

“And we’re just going to let him wander off with your sister?”

“Why would he stab her?”

Quinn was about to argue that point when he heard a growl. They all heard that growl. He could tell because they all stopped talking and began backing up.

None of them saw anything. Not even Quinn. But they could feel it. Could sense it moving around them. Could hear it breathing. Eventually, Quinn could even feel the fur brushing against his legs, feel the tail curling around his knees.

When it finally settled behind the witch’s body, it appeared.

And Gemma had not been exaggerating. It was huge. The mother of the demon wolf puppies stood over them all, even Quinn in his centaur form. Fangs oozing with blood and flames bursting not only from her eyes but from her nostrils as well. With each breath.

She looked over each of them and, for a brief, terrifying moment, Quinn thought they were all dead. All doomed to a lifetime in hell.

But they’d done the right thing, he quickly realized. They’d all fought to save the puppy and had returned it to Keeley, the one chosen to protect the puppies on this plane.

But the witch who had taken the mother’s favorite? She would receive no kindness.

The she-wolf began to drag the witch’s body off, and immediately the priests turned away from the sight. Until the screaming began.

Léandre turned around first, puzzled. “I thought she was dead.”

“She is dead,” Gemma said, walking away.

Quinn didn’t understand at first. How could Gemma just walk away? But she understood all too well, didn’t she? As a necromancer, she understood everything.

The screams weren’t coming from the witch’s body, but from her soul. The mother wolf was pulling the soul away from the body and, in desperation, the witch held on with all she was worth. Her soul actually left finger marks in the dirt where she dug them in, fighting not to be dragged off. It didn’t help, though. She’d angered the mother wolf. She’d not only taken the mother wolf’s favorite; she’d made the pup suffer. She’d hurt her. Quinn understood that the wolf had watched everything. She had waited to see what each of them would do. Would they help? Would they do nothing? She could have moved at any time to help her pup but she had wanted to see what she was dealing with first. That was cold and calculating but it told Quinn all he needed to know about the wolf demon. Why she still lived below in one of the hells while her mate lived with Keeley here among the humans.

The mother wolf dug her blood-covered fangs into the witch’s soul and yanked, pulling it away from her body, and Quinn heard it tear away from its foundation. Heard the soul scream in absolute pain and suffering. A sound he prayed never to hear again.

The soul begged them all—begged—for them to help her. To pull her away from this thing that had her. But none of them felt she was worth it.

Once the mother wolf had the soul far enough away, she lifted her head and chomped, chewed, and swallowed until that soul disappeared down into her gullet. She gulped once. Swallowed again. Burped. Those flame eyes looked them over once more before she turned and walked off. The mother wolf’s body grew fainter with each step she took until they could just hear her padding away into the forest . . . and then nothing.

They all stood there, staring straight ahead for several long minutes. None of them speaking. Unable to move.

Finally, it was Balla who broke the silence as she asked, “So does that she-wolf live here too?”

“No,” Quinn quickly told her. Told them all. “Absolutely, no. Just no. She should be taking her pups and returning to her hell any day now.”

“Okay. Good to know.”

They all nodded and silently agreed never to speak about what they’d just seen. Because, honestly, why would they?

Ever?

CHAPTER 22

Ima helped Wassa to sit up, relieved her coven-sister was awake and alert. When she’d seen her lying there, just a few feet from Adela, Ima had thought for sure she was dead. That the bitch had killed her. She’d been so relieved to see her move and point in Adela’s direction. Ima knew then she’d have to kill Adela or, at the very least, help these people kill her. If she didn’t, Adela would put Ima and Wassa to death. As traitors. Even if they’d never betrayed her.

It was Adela who was the betrayer. While their coven-sisters were out there dying under the lash and sword of Cyrus’s soldiers, she was thinking only of herself. She hadn’t gone with the rest of the coven to the safety of foreign lands only because she wanted a chance at Queen Keeley’s demon wolves. She could not care less about aligning herself with Keeley, Beatrix, or even Cyrus. She didn’t care if every sect was destroyed. In her mind, if would be fine if they were, because all that would be left was Adela, her power, and the coven she would control.