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A s strange as it sounded, the Vatican was not cruel.

Death by crucifixion had been refined over the centuries. Now each crucifixion was choreographed to perfection. A ballet of death. Each spike exorcist-forged—artificed like their blades—with energy enough to kill a demon outright. They used these on their human victims, too.

Her father had died with the same nails through his wrists and feet. Jules too.

As they passed beneath one of the smaller domes in St Peter’s Basilica, a sudden burst of rain battered against the glass of the high windows. Just like the day her father was executed, when rain had carved down her cheeks like tears. But she had refused to cry where Rome could see her, and she had not cried since—not until today.

In her mind’s eye she could see the Deathless God, beautifully motionless in his terrible prison. Her heart ached.

No, the Vatican was not cruel. Her father’s pain had been brief. Death, quick.

It would be the same for Jules. So dreadfully quick.

Death would land with the final blow of the hammer, just a few seconds after the first.

She was an empty vessel. Ambition. Drive. Fury. None of them survived grief. Not even vengeance .

Grief subsumed everything else. It was the absolute hollowness left behind.

Cesare strode ahead, his tall form casting its shadow over her. She timed her steps with his, keeping pace with him like she used to do. Trapped between two of his men, Selene withdrew into herself, no longer entirely there . She watched the almond toes of her boots on the chequerboard halls, heard their smart click. But all of it was distant.

St Peter’s Basilica was a stranger to her now.

Even when her father died, she hadn’t blamed this place. Now the seam in her heart was unravelling and she hated these columns, these corridors, these friezes, as though their cold remoteness had killed Jules and not the man to whom she’d dedicated her life.

But this pain, revisited, was so much worse.

Worse than her broken ribs.

Worse than the symbols she’d carved into bone.

Worse than her faithlessness, and worse than the realization the Vatican was utterly corrupt.

Dio, Jules … She loved him. It was too late to realize how much. An hour too late to kiss him again, and long, terrible minutes too late to save him.

Her muscles were tired and her body had been pushed to its limit. With Jules gone she had nothing left to fight for.

She’d spent her life worshipping false idols. Now came the reckoning.

Cesare turned his wrist, checking his watch. She despised this familiar tic. She did it herself. The gesture lit a fuse inside her. What did time matter now ?

Worse, she knew it boded ill. Numbly she wondered what he was waiting for.

They stopped at the doors to the Cor Cordium .

‘Why are we here?’

The usual guards were gone. A sense of foreboding settled heavy in her sternum.

She backed away as her bodyguards moved to ease open the doors. Cesare grasped the back of her neck and propelled her forward. ‘We’re here to finish what your father started. If not the way he wanted.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Matteo came here to free him. He wanted to strip us of our God.’

Selene frowned. ‘He isn’t God. And you know that. My father told you, didn’t he? He came to you and told you what he’d found. And you killed him for it.’

Cesare’s expression darkened. ‘He was my brother . He forced my hand when he did what he did. The Primus wanted blood.’

Selene avoided looking through the double doors.

She didn’t have to, the entire scene was vivid in her mind. That beautiful face and the tumble of dark hair so achingly familiar now that she could appreciate the similarities.

It was too late for Jules. The thought ached deep in her ribs.

‘Are you telling me you want to free him?’

‘Oh no. That won’t do at all. When Baliel takes down the last of the wards, I will kill him.’ He looked up, lips curling into a faint smirk as he touched his brow. ‘Our Dio Immortale .’ She could hear the note of mocking. Shattered faith had diminished him. She watched her uncle with an expression of cold curiosity.

Her religion was broken. The entire Vatican too. For the second time in two hundred years they had slaughtered a demon who had not deserved it. If this was their god , everything they’d ever taught her had been a lie.

She’d been the one to drive the great spear into God the second time. She’d condemned him to years more suffering. The Deathless God wouldn’t die. Not by Cesare’s hand.

No , he would be freed by hers . Even if it killed her.

Thinking back to her last moments with her father, Selene knew to the marrow of her bones that there was no if in this scenario. This was a suicide mission. A pact with death itself. She smiled, just the barest hint at the corner of her lips. So be it.

Head high, Selene strode through the carved double doors ahead of Cesare.

The Cor Cordium was not silent; the echoing quiet thrummed with nearly imperceptible sounds—the steady drip of blood, God’s eternal heartbeat, thumping with the aching magnitude of a continental drift.

And for the first time in years, as she simply let herself be in this place, Selene dared look at God’s face. His face was angled just so, and she could see the cut-glass line of his jaw, the hollows beneath his cheekbones. She drank him in. Dio . If she had just looked at him sooner—with eyes not shuttered by guilt—she would have seen the resemblance.

Jules was undeniably the Deathless God’s blood.

Tears slipped down her cheeks unbidden. But this time she didn’t rush to look away.

Exquisite pain thundered through her. Towering eight feet tall, the Deathless God’s feet were pointed so the tips of his toes brushed the floor, his arms bound in chains, and cruel spikes had been driven through his body.

Jules had suffered the same.

This was how they treated their God ? What did it say about her that she’d turned a blind eye for so long? Selene squared her shoulders.

She dropped to her knees, reaching to dip two fingers into the blood, and drew a rune on her forehead. But it was not veneration that drove her. And no expression touched her face as she moved with the practised motions of something deeply learned—all body, no mind. This was for Cesare’s benefit.

Trick him , she told herself. Selene had to make him believe he could win her back to his side. All so that when she removed the spear impaling God and condemned herself—and destroyed the Church—it would hurt Cesare as much as he’d hurt her.

Arranging her face into a cool mask, she turned to her uncle. ‘Why are you doing this?’

Cesare unhurriedly circled the chamber.

Her lip curled in disgust. How could he be so composed when her world was breaking?

‘Why do you think , Selene? We’re under attack. For many years my predecessor—’

Selene scoffed. ‘He’s barely cold, uncle. Be more careful. It’s treason to speak as though you’re already Exorcist Primus.’

His eyes flashed with cold fury.

She compressed the hint of a smile. Make him angry. Then make him believe she could still be won over.

‘My predecessor wasted our primacy . He wasted every opportunity to crush the demons once and for all. He didn’t care that they’re a threat—will always be a threat. He preached moderation.’ Cesare’s expression relaxed as he warmed to his topic. ‘He wasted the years of division, when demons seemed to hate each other as much as they hated us. But that is changing . If they join together, we won’t only be attacked from the borders, we’ll be attacked from within Rome itself.’

‘You’re the one weakening Rome. You helped Baliel destroy the wards.’

Cesare flicked a bored finger, as though brushing off an invisible speck of dust. ‘Trivialities, Selene. The wards were weak. They would’ve collapsed eventually. You know, when they were first erected, no demons could enter Rome for decades? Wasn’t it only this month that you cleared out an infestation in—’

‘Trastevere,’ she said softly.

The thirteenth rione of Rome. South-east of the Vatican, not too far from where Sparrow lived.

‘Indeed.’

She didn’t respond. Let him grow desperate to convince her. Let him tell her more than he ever intended.

He continued. ‘In the last few decades, our power has been eroded from all quarters. Noble families hiring their own pet exorcists to ward their palazzos against demons. Can you imagine it? This is the corruption of the Church under our Exorcist Primus.’

The silence hung heavy between them.

She let out a breath. ‘What are we meant to do about it? Demons are drawn to this place. To the Deathless God’s power, most likely.’

Even with his back turned, Selene could picture his expression. His charisma and sharp intelligence working to win her over. But what did Cesare really want ? He already had the Exorcist Primus’ power if he wanted it—and clearly he did—so what had driven him to bring her here ?

‘Why do you want to finish what my father started? And how ?’

‘As long as even a single ward stands: Only a demon can kill him. Only a human can free him. ’ The words were a remarkable break from his faith—faith he had once killed his own brother for. Cesare continued softly. ‘Baliel is taking the final wards apart as we speak; the last may have fallen already.’ He spread his hands, indicating the deadening silence around them.

She angled her chin so she could look up at the Deathless God’s beautiful face. Unwilling tears traced paths down her cheeks. The natural physiological response to God—or whoever this being really was.

‘Did Baliel tell you that … that without Him here, at the heart of the Vatican, the demon incursion might end?’ She turned to face Cesare, quieting her voice as though in hope. It wasn’t entirely an act. His answer wouldn’t change anything. But part of her wanted him to be worthy of her loyalty. Her love. She’d never forgive him for this, but if he thought he was saving humanity, then it might blunt the cutting edge of her hatred.

Cesare looked up at God. ‘If we had a leader who was powerful enough to fight them as equals, we might have a chance. Power like that has never existed in over a hundred years, until …’ He rubbed his hand over his mouth, brows drawing together in pain.

The words froze her. ‘Until me, you mean. Until I stole God’s power.’

Cesare’s lack of answer was confirmation enough.

‘But you’re already the most powerful man in the world.’

Frowning, he turned a new ring on his finger. The Primus’ seal. ‘That may be true in one way. But not when it comes to raw power .’

‘Even if I agreed with what you’re doing, you still won’t—’ Oh . With cruel clarity she realized he didn’t need to win her to his side. If she refused him … well, she was probably more useful to him dead.

Selene gripped her clothes over her heart, head tipping back to look up at the stone vault, the low, flickering lights of the chandeliers blurring in her vision. She hadn’t thought there was still more he could do to hurt her.

‘A warning, then, uncle. If you steal his power, it means harnessing magic that’ll strip you down to your bones. You have no idea what it’s like. You never did.’

She paced away from him—toward God.

Closer …

Closer .

Golden ichor gilded the length of the great spear buried in his ribcage and dripped to the pool beneath their feet. Selene could easily reach it and plunge it home—but if what Cesare said was true, even that wouldn’t give him the freedom of death. Not unless the last ward had fallen. Only a demon can kill him.

Good . Because the thought of killing this last beautiful piece of Jules hollowed her out.

She stabbed a finger toward God. ‘His power balances on the knife edge of agony. Sometimes …’ Selene faltered. ‘ Sometimes I’m tempted to let it rage. Sometimes I want to let it burn me out until there’s no Selene left. I thought you understood?’

Cesare sighed heavily. ‘There’s a reason an exorcist’s first kill is what makes or breaks us. First, we take their blood, then we kill them. Always. His power overwhelms you because you never killed him. Take it all and it will become yours.’

So his whole plan hinged on that. Baliel had to break the wards so that they could kill God. Once the final ward fell, so too did the limitations. Anyone could free him. Anyone could kill him.

It had been a long time since she had lingered this close to the Deathless God. His presence felt enormous, as though he were leaning over her shoulder. As though he were breathing against her neck. Selene could feel his strength waiting to rush through her, and her fingers itched to carve herself. To split her flesh and release it.

‘I’m not a cruel man, Selene. I raised you—and love you—and only want the best for you.’ Cesare’s voice was warm, and she tried not to believe him. It was difficult because he clearly believed it himself. ‘Kill the Deathless God and his powers will be yours alone, and together we will save Rome.’

She shook her head, closing her eyes against the coaxing words. It was almost tempting.

Cesare saw her waver and continued speaking, that terrible charisma a force all its own. ‘With me as Primus and you as my sword, we’ll do it together. Can you picture it, Selene?’

And the dreadful thing was, she could. It was a beautiful future, but one that would be built on a despicable act. And clearly he underestimated how she felt about Jules or he wouldn’t waste his breath.

‘You know I want it too, uncle. I’ve only ever wanted to make you proud.’

‘And I am.’

Her lashes darkened her vision as they lowered, unable to hold his burning gaze. ‘All right,’ she said, and let him believe that she was weak-willed enough to do it.

Pressing her teeth together, Selene remembered her father’s terror when she’d seen him here that day. What she was about to do was a death sentence. But it was the only choice she wanted to make.

She almost pitied Cesare, because fool that he was—blinded by power—he didn’t realize that Baliel was playing his own game.

But Baliel wasn’t here. She was .

Selene lunged for the spear, wrapping her hands around the shaft. It was at once familiar and so different. She could hold it properly now, and the studs pressed into her palms as she yanked it free.

Cesare’s expression contorted. ‘What have you done?’

She backed up, shifting her stance so he understood she would fight him.

A breath stirred her hair. There was a slight movement, caught in the mirror of golden blood beneath her feet. Then an immense hand grasped her neck. Dio Immortale . His fingers were over her windpipe. She couldn’t breathe . He would crush her spine.

Cesare darted closer. Grasping the spear, he shoved it back into the stirring God, cruelly twisting it as though to pierce his heart. Selene felt no change in the air, even as God’s immense hand slackened on her neck. She fell, limp and useless, to the blood-soaked stone and her shoulder made a loud crunch. Dislocated. Gulping down burning breaths, she struggled to push herself up.

Cesare knelt in front of her and a tear slid down his cheek as he reached for her face. ‘Selene—’

She slapped his hand away. ‘Don’t touch me.’

His dark eyes were sorrowful as he watched her crawl away. But it was just residual. Like muscle memory. He’d already decided to kill her. As soon as he realized she was no longer his creature, he’d decided with that same aloof certainty he’d embodied when condemning her father.

Angling his wrist in a gesture Selene had made a thousand times, Cesare said, ‘Soon enough the last of the wards will have fallen. We’ll know when Baliel arrives.’ He looked up at the Deathless God, his eyes flat as a snake’s. She saw neither disappointment nor frustration on his face at the fact he had not struck a killing blow. Only terrible patience that was quite unlike him.

‘There must be a thousand other ways,’ she said softly. ‘You don’t have to do this.’

Cesare pressed his lips into a sad smile. ‘Oh, but I do. For the Vatican, for our Rome .’

Around Selene the chamber faded into a blur. Her throat still burned with the phantom grip of the Deathless God. She had to get up. Refused to die on her knees.

The vast double doors swung open and Sparrow strode through, her familial sword in hand.

Cesare did not take his eyes off Selene. ‘About time you got here.’