Page 1 of Brimstone

PROLOGUE

KINGFISHER

A WOLF WASa versatile creature.

Adaptable.

When part of a pack, it was part of something larger than itself. It had a role to play and a place in the way of things. There was safety to be found in a pack.

But a wolf could survive alone, too.

In the dead of the midnight forest, surrounded by predators on all sides, a wolf could slip like a shadow through the trees. He could take refuge in darkened corners, stalking prey of his own.

He could wait out his enemies, and bite back when they struck . . .

Especially when he held a god sword in his hands.

I was ready for the vampire when he came. He had been trailing me like a wraith through the echoing halls of Ammontraíeth since I’d left Saeris’s chambers. I’d felt him out there, simmering. Waiting.

Reading the living took no great skill. There were those who had spent centuries honing their abilities to control their feelings. It paid to ensure your thoughts and feelings remained private as a member of the Fae. But no matter how practiced a person was at hiding their feelings, their bodies always gave them away in the end. It was unavoidable.

Emotions painted the blood. Happiness.

Anger.

Sorrow.

Lust.

Each gave off its own energy. A vibration, if you will. In the same vein, each of them had its own scent. The Fae betrayed subtle indicators of their moods, no matter how good they were at masking their emotions.

The scents humans gave off could be overwhelming at times. Humans werenotgood at taming their feelings. They felt everything so rudely, right out in the open, with no awareness of how their reactions might affect those with finer senses.

The dead were a different story. Without a beating heart, their blood was barren black slurry in their veins. The only time a member of the Sanasrothian Court gave off any scent at all was after they had fed, when the spark of life that lingered in their victim’s blood still echoed with the emotionstheyhad felt as they died. Like the faintest trace of perfume that lingered after a hug.

An hour ago, my head had been full of petrichor as I’d sat next to my mate, listening to the lilt of her voice as she’d bombarded Tal with questions about the Blood Court. Ever since she’d woken, she’d been relentless, trying to understand, to prepare, to ready herself for what was to come. The foundations of our plan were laid, and Saeris understood the part she had to play in carrying them out . . . but she was nervous. Considering that she had been human only days ago, she was already far more accomplished at tamping down her feelings than she had been, but my nose was sharper than most. I’d sensed her hesitation. It was like the scent of hot stone after rain.

I’d been breathing her in, drowning in her, when I’d detected theothersmell.

The vampire must have fed on a prodigious amount of blood before it had taken up its hiding place, crouched in the dark outside Saeris’s chambers.

I’d excused myself, headed out into the hall, and gone looking for the rot.

Two floors down, heading into the bowels of the Black Palace, I found it with the point of my blade.

The vampire was beautiful. He possessed a face that might have been ordinary in life, the kind of skin that might eventually have turned dull and sagged. But in death, he had been preserved. Perfect. High cheekbones. A regal, aquiline nose. His eyes had probably been blue once, but now they flashed like ghostly opals. His lips peeled back, exposing canines bone-white and vicious. His mouth formed a surprisedObefore he could make a sound. He looked down, stunned to find Nimerelle buried to the hilt in his chest.

“You’ve . . . ruined the velvet,” he croaked.

It was true; the god sword’s blade had rent a three-inch-long hole in his black velvet waistcoat. I gave him an apologetic shrug. “Annoying by-product of killing,” I said with a sigh. “Your opponent’s clothes often don’t survive the process, either. You know all about that, though, don’t you?”

A death flower bloomed across the front of his shirt, black as ink. The bastard had the audacity to look affronted as he glanced up at me. “I am . . . familiar with that problem, yes,” he rasped.

“You won’t have to worry about it anymore,” I told him.

I’d known, even before he’d come streaking out of the shadows, that he hadn’t come looking for a fight. With the rest of the Black Palace still sleeping, he shouldn’t have even been awake. This vampire, in his finery, with his belly full of innocent blood, had come seeking something he did not deserve. Something onlyIcould give him.

He scrambled for balance, trying to hold on to me, but his hands were already turning to ash. When he spoke, his words were dry as a desert wind. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t . . . face . . .”