Page 235 of Blackwood

“Laing didn’t by chance tell you what the hell it is?” I ask.

“No, I asked him after you called,” he snorts. “Dipshit just said Sabine was holding it. Whatever the fuck that means.”

I glance between the guys, then back at the door. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

Tex’s eyes flick to Cade. “You sure you want him here?”

Cade’s voice is calm, but sharp. “You’re not going to stop me.”

Tex grunts. “Didn’t say I would. Just asking if you need a minute to cry or stretch or whatever it is your people do before a showdown.”

“Let it go, Tex,” Lex snaps.

Tex rolls his eyes and turns toward the door. “Alright then. Hope he can stomach whatever we’re about to walk into.”

The rusted door creaks open as Jacques, one of Sabine’s guys, nods at me and steps aside.

“Welcome, chérie,” Sabine calls from across the room. “And happy birthday, Isabella.”

She’s draped in shadow and gold, standing beside a chair at the center of the warehouse.

“Sabine,” I say, voice steady but low. “What is this?”

She tilts her head and gestures slowly, and that’s when I see him. Tied to a chair. Mouth taped. Eyes wide. Sweat pouring down his face like it’s holy water and he’s already seen the Devil.

And wrapped around his neck, coiled like a noose from hell, is none other than Celeste. Sabine’s massive soul searching snake. Her iridescent scales shimmer like golden sunlight under the low light as her tongue flicks lazily near his ear. Reading him. Judging him. Deciding if he’s worth the breath he’s still taking.

“Is that a—” Cade starts.

“Happy birthday to me.” I cut him off. “Thanks, Laing.”

His eyes go wide when he sees me stalking toward him. Lex and Cade hang back a step. Tension rolling off them like heat, as if they are unsure if they should stop me or help me. Or just let me burn.

Sabine steps up beside me, calm as ever, and slips a blade into my hand, silver, sleek, and cold as hell. Behind me, I hear Cade suck in a breath.

“You ready for your revenge, baby?” Sabine purrs, voice soft and smoky.

I smile without looking away from him. “Let’s begin.”

I crouch a little in front of him, my blade catching the light.

“Hello, Vince.”

He thrashes in the chair, trying to shake off the massive snake coiled around his neck, but it’s no use. Celeste holds steady.

“This is Celeste,” I say, waving a hand lazily toward the thick, iridescent coils around Vince’s throat. “She’s a lovely little friend of mine.”

His eyes bug. He’s sweating bullets, and I swear I can smell the fear ripple off of him.

“She’s got this little gift, kind of like a special magical power,” I add, voice syrupy sweet. “Sabine, care to explain?”

Sabine grins slow and wide. “Of course.”

She walks toward Vince, heels clicking like it’s his judgment day. “See here,” she drawls in that perfect Cajun lilt, “my girl Celeste’s got a bit of voodoo in her blood. Special power passed down from my mama’s mama.”

I cross my arms and say with my best southern draw, “Celeste can read the souls of men.”

Sabine nods, eyes gleaming. “That’s right, cher. Evil don’t hide from her. She knows what’s rotten. What’s twisted. What’s worth savin’ and what ain’t.”