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CHAPTER FOUR

I sink slowly back in the chair.

Typhon was a primordial deity and the father of all monsters. While he was imprisoned at great cost in the assassin’s maze, four of his bones had been hidden in the outside world.

A single bone is capable of terrible power. One of them, known as the White Wand , had nearly destroyed every student at the Academy.

Destroying Typhon and his bones had almost cost the hellhound, Striker Draven, his life.

“Oh, no.” My stomach swirls with dread. “I was hoping…”

“So was I.” Hunter leans forward slightly to rub her lower back, a soothing action I quickly take over for her, bringing a relieved sigh to her lips.

She rarely releases her Valkyrie wings unless she’s going on the attack, but the tension in her body tells me she wishes she could fully stretch them out right now.

“Oh, these twins are already making their presence very well known,” she says. “This might be my last mission for a while.”

While I focus on Hunter, I also can’t shake the memory of the first night Striker stayed here in my home.

I used my magic to transport him directly from the forest outside the assassin’s maze to the room upstairs.

It was lucky I was already practicing transportation spells when I was asked for help getting to and from the maze.

I had the spells already written on slips of paper in case I needed them.

I’ll never forget the sight of Peyton, the Fury who has become my friend, carrying Striker’s body from the maze.

He died in his fight with Typhon. His heart was ripped out.

It took all of my instinctive power to stabilize him, but he slipped into a coma and, after that, bringing him back here to my home was all I could do.

But in the moment that we arrived here, when only Hunter and I were with him, Striker regained consciousness.

It was only for a few seconds.

I suspect it was because of the force of the transportation spell, combined with the healing magic I was pouring into him to ensure he survived the trip. I can’t be sure, but it must have jolted his mind awake, even if his body couldn’t cope with his injuries.

His eyes had flown wide, wild and unfocused, and his voice was so slurred that I wanted to believe I’d misheard him when he said, “There were only two bones in the box.”

His eyes immediately closed, and his heartbeat became dangerously slow. It was clear that uttering the warning had cost him.

I spent my remaining energy that night trying to undo the harm to his brain of his sudden wakefulness.

When he finally woke from his coma, Hunter and I waited cautiously to see if he remembered anything, but he didn’t mention the missing bone.

Attempting to prompt him, we gently asked him if he could talk about that final fight in the maze. His brow had furrowed, and he told us, “All I remember is the silence.”

Now, I sense the weight on Hunter’s shoulders. Since that night, she and I have been quietly trying to verify if what Striker warned of could be true.

Yesterday, she told me about a possible source in New York City—someone who might be able to verify if the third bone is, indeed, still out there. When I asked her who this source was, Hunter would only tell me that the meeting was happening in Central Park.

Judging by her decision to wear her assassin’s suit, she wasn’t expecting it to be a pleasant interaction.

My mind whirls, but the way forward is clear to me. “You mustn’t have anything more to do with the missing bone. I’ll take it from here.”

Her eyes widen. “But, Tansy?—”

“It’s too dangerous,” I say, giving her a pointed stare. “Your daughter needs you, as do your unborn twins. Not to mention, none of your spies can go anywhere near it.”

Her spies are the monsters who live at the Academy, a group that Hunter has quickly come to think of as family. Working for Hunter gives them a purpose beyond the busy life of raising other Unknowns. Hunter won’t risk their lives, and neither will I.

I hurry on before she can respond. “The bones are typically used by witches, so if a bone is out there, then the first place to start is the witching community. I can do that.”

Even though, as we both know, I’m an outcast in the witching community, but it’s about damn time I did something about that.

“Tansy—”

“I will find it,” I say firmly, but even as I prepare to make a plan, I realize that she’s giving me a gentle smile. “What?” I whisper.

She takes my hand. “First, I want to tell you how much it means to me that you would take this on, knowing how hard it would be for you, but second, I need to tell you the good news.” She grimaces. “Or maybe it’s just not such bad news.”

“Oh?”

“According to my source, the final bone has made its way into Philadelphia, where it was seized by powerful warrior angels, possibly those called Sentinels .”

I consider this news carefully. Iriel, the angel at the library is a warrior angel, but Sentinels are another threat altogether. They are the strongest angelic warriors and also the purest, rumored to guard the angels’ most precious treasures.

It was surprising to me, actually, that The Blessed Grimoire wasn’t hidden somewhere with Sentinels, but then, it’s a book of witch magic and the angels are supposed to be independent custodians of it, not spirit it away for themselves.

“What does this mean?” I ask.

“The bone is safe,” she says, then adds, “For now. And if the Sentinels have it then I’m certain it will be hidden away from the world where dark creatures won’t be drawn to it.”

“That would make sense, since Peyton hasn’t said anything about being aware of it.”

“What’s more,” Hunter continues, “as far as the supernatural community is concerned, all of the bones have been destroyed.”

“Meaning nobody is going looking for it.” I chew my lip. Except possibly for us. And Hunter’s source. “Will your source tell anyone? Or seek it for themselves?”

She shakes her head with certainty. “No and no. My source is the type to take pleasure in knowing things other people don’t.

Telling anyone would mean someone else could acquire the bone’s power, and my source wouldn’t want that.

As far as they’re concerned, the bone should never see the light of day again.

But… what about Striker and Peyton?” Now, Hunter’s expression becomes troubled. “Do we warn them?”

The remainder of my worry lifts as I think of the life they’re building together.

“They’re happy, and they deserve to be,” I say firmly. “They’ve been through too much already. They need to be free of this.”

“Then this stays between us,” Hunter says with a nod. “Unless or until there’s any hint of the bone resurfacing.”

“Agreed.”

I give her a determined smile. I’ll be ready should the people I care about once again face Typhon’s darkness, just as I’m determined to find the spell that holds the key to my fate and any future I might have with Alexei Mason.

That night, my sleep is fitful. Alexei’s voice is a deep rumble in my memory, a sound like growling thunder.

Tanzanina Gray, you are nothing more to me than a chess piece…

A chess piece…

Nothing more…

I wake with a scream on my lips. “Damn you, Alexei Mason!”

Damn the look in his eyes when he told me that his feelings for me were not formed from love but from logic.

Damn the look in his eyes when he told me he would rather never see me again than treat me like a chess piece.

Damn him for being a Master Assassin, for knowing how to slay my heart as easily as he breaks necks with hands that make me shiver…

I draw my knees to my chest as the cruel light of the moon taunts me.

Alexei Mason, one of the three Master Assassins, had stayed in my home for weeks without ever crossing any lines. He never kissed me or touched me, but he was there for me, protected me, and at the end of that time, I was sure he loved me.

Then he told me the truth: that he was cursed a long time ago so he could never feel emotions. Not heartache. Not love. Not loss. Logic and reason dictate his actions. He told me that he was drawn to me because logic told him my power would be an asset to him.

He told me I deserved more. Then, he pushed me away.

I tried to lift his curse—tried to revive his emotions—and failed. Now, the revival spell is my last hope.

The moonlight flickers, making me squint. At first I think it’s my tears—the tears I refuse to show anyone—but the beam of light shining through my window flashes brightly.

Magic washes over me, making me flinch and my heart leap. At its bright center, a silvery slip of parchment takes shape.

I jolt upright into the glare, shielding my eyes as I snatch the parchment into my hand.

The light fades, allowing me to read aloud the script on the front: “The Monster Ball.”

On the other side, the invitation states:

Just as the moon has brought me to you

So shall the moon bring you to the Ball

All Hallows’ Eve

The Witching Hour

My first emotion is relief. My second is fear, but there was a time when I let fear rule my life. I’m done with that.

When midnight comes on All Hallows’ Eve, I’ll be ready.