Page 33 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Housed within the display was an ornament.

Its body was made of glass, shaped like a small bulb of a flower.

A large pair of glittering wings, their metal shimmering with flecks of pale blue, blossomed off the swell of the bust, where a small ring, as though to attach a necklace chain, crested the top.

Des stared at it, enraptured. A crash and a scream down the hall snapped her to attention, and she spun the display case, searching for its opening. A padlock secured the case, and Des muttered a prayer under her breath as she tested the rings the man had so kindly given her.

Click.

Ripping the display case open, Des pried the strange ornament free, holding it in both hands as she gazed at her reflection, appearing both in the glass bulb and the wings. Silence blanketed her mind and the room before something struck her in the chest.

It felt like she had been thrown backward, yet her body did not budge. Pain ripped at her head, an indescribable tearing. She nearly dropped the glass angel as the woman named Des receded into her mind, and the woman named Janus assumed the reins.

* * *

Felsin had many problems. Namely, the cat poking its head from his bag and the half-dead man leaning on his arm.

Should his cat be crushed or split by an axe, Felsin would never forgive himself. Why had he taken Sors?

Frantic men scrambled to escape the underground ruins, leaping over worktables and crawling beneath tables as they desperately fled from the creature hovering in the room’s center.

The thing hardly budged as it threw men about like playthings—hands, draped in tattered white cloth, shot through the mirrored water, grabbing men and dashing them against the cavern walls.

Broken bones cracked against stone, and bodies slumped to the floor.

Leaning Talon against the entrance hall, Felsin jogged forward, observing the chaos as a workbench was picked up and thrown in his direction. Covering his head, he threw himself to the ground, hearing the bench crash a few feet behind him.

As he shot to his feet, he saw a familiar woman sidling the wall, approaching a closed door across the room. Lady Mela. The woman who had stood beneath the dragon in Alfaris’ reading.

She pointed at the door, mouthing a single word. ‘Janus.’

The door burst open as a man in brown rushed out, bewildered. A blur of blue streaked behind Felsin as Talon raced for the open door, shoving past the man into the hall.

A phantom tendril raced between Felsin’s boots, grabbing the overturned work table behind him and lobbing it at Felsin’s head. Diving backward this time, Felsin skidded across the floor as the worktable rolled across the ground, its metal bending with the impact.

Spirits. Scrambling to his feet, Felsin dashed after Talon but saw another phantom hand reaching for the battered bench. Throwing himself against the wall, he barely escaped being crushed as the mirage evoker tossed the workbench toward the door, slamming it against the stone.

Backing away from the door, Felsin stared up at the mirage evoker, meeting blazing, glassy eyes, though the remainder of its head might as well have been hidden in a cloud of shadow, such an intense, unnatural blur hung about its form.

Something changed in those eyes when they met Felsin’s.

It looked. . . pleased. One of its metallic arms, swathed in tattered white cloth, rose to its eyes, the blur fading about its hands long enough to make a single gesture.

It pointed two fingers at Felsin before turning them onto its glassy eyes, voicelessly sharing a clear message.

Eyes on me.

The shrouding illusion coated the figure’s arm, smudging its finer details as the creature raised a hand to the ceiling. When Felsin first encountered this thing, it had been imposing and frightening.

Now, the light of the forges allowed him to see it. An undeniable arrogance colored its movements, the kind of effortless grace he would expect of someone both vain and talented. Every motion came with unnecessary theatrics—made by those who cared overmuch about appearances.

This thing was no monster—it was human.

Consumed with ardent curiosity, Felsin did precisely as it commanded, watching its every movement with rapt attention.

The figure’s hand slowly twirled into a fist, before it yanked its arm down.

The earth above its head shattered and broke as though pulled down by invisible ropes.

Schisms appeared in the stone ceiling, snaking across the roof and traveling down the pillars supporting the cave.

Chunks of rock fell, thudding into the floor.

Sors meowed angrily as Felsin leaped to his feet, struggling to balance in the quaking chamber. He closed the remaining gap between himself and the door Talon had disappeared into.

A man in dark purple robes burst from the hall behind them, flanked by two guards in steel armor. Sheer awe colored his face as he noticed the mirage evoker, and he stuttered out an order, one hand pointing in Felsin’s direction.

“Stop them!”

Perhaps the soldiers would have responded quicker had the creature in the room not given them pause.

Despite their commander’s order, the men’s attention fell instead upon the room’s destruction and the broken bodies.

Time enough passed in their hesitation for the evoker in purple to regain his senses.

His fingers shone with white light. Felsin raised his hands, preparing to block whatever spell the man conjured, but felt something wrap around his ankle, yanking him to the floor before dragging him across the mirrored puddles.

Jagged rocks dug into him, ripping his coat and pants as he was pulled across the room into the tunnel leading to the entrance.

Mela slammed into the tunnel walls behind him, and Felsin noticed a tendril release her leg. The mirage evoker drifted from the room’s center, planting itself firmly between the evoker and their group. Felsin stared at the fluttering white of its back.

Had it protected them?

“Shit.” Mela hissed, dragging herself to her feet. She was injured, favoring her left leg.

A table-sized chunk of the roof collapsed from above, landing to Felsin’s right, blocking his view of the door Talon had slipped through.

To return would kill them both. Felsin looked up to see a section of the roof dislodge itself directly above their heads. Grabbing the red-haired woman, he hastily summoned an earthen dome.

The debris slammed into the rock above their heads, splintering the shield he’d created. “Run.” He pushed her.

“Shit.” Mela cursed again, but she ran.

Felsin backed down the hall, following her lead, his eyes glued to the mirage evoker’s back. Phantom tendrils rose from the mirrored lake, obscuring whatever lay on its other side. Shaking his head to knock himself from his enraptured gaze, Felsin turned away.

The mirage evoker had saved them—it would protect Janus, too. He had to trust it.

He only hoped he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

* * *

Janus clutched the glass ornament, breathing heavily. She was underground, in the strange tunnel complex. Talon had been with her, trapped in the dungeons. And an evoker had invaded her mind, searching for something she did not understand.

She could recall everything, and yet it felt wrong. Like someone else had seen these memories, and Janus owned them unfairly. Janus had not lived them. So why were they in her head? What was going on?

The ground rumbled, knocking Janus off her feet. Her knees hit the stone with a sharp crack of pain, but she clutched the bulb to her chest, intent on protecting it. Crashing sounded in the distance as reverberations shook through the walls and ceiling. Was the entire tunnel system collapsing?

A door swung open and shut in the distance, slamming heavily. Running footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder as someone approached. Standing, Janus pressed her back to the wall, preparing to defend herself.

A man in a blue coat, his face pale and eyes haggard, appeared in the doorway, intense relief arising in his countenance. Talon rushed forward, grabbing Janus by the arms, silently ensuring she was unharmed. He pressed a hand to her cheek, turning her head gently.

“I’m fine.” She stuttered.

Another tremor shook the room, and Janus looked up to see cracks forming above their heads.

Dust fell over them, support beams in the hall outside shaking as they threatened to give way.

Talon shoved Janus, propelling her into the hall.

Heeding his message, she managed to move her feet, running toward the workroom.

Reflective water pooled beneath the door crack, flowing from the workroom into the hall. A shadow painted it black, and from its embrace emerged the mirage evoker; its glassy eyes shifted onto Janus.

Talon grabbed Janus and threw her behind him. A lump formed in Janus’s throat. No. She was supposed to protect him. He was the one who’d drawn the death card.

Eros. The name rang in Janus’s head, drowning out the world.

Reflective liquid pooled across their feet, coating the walls and ceiling, disorienting Janus as all became mirrors. She saw herself and Talon reflected several times over, but the mirage evoker appeared only once amongst the confusing imagery. Its hand rose, grasping tendrils dashing toward them.

Between the mirage evoker and the tremors, only death awaited them. But if the mirage evoker blocked their way forward, and no path was available behind, then the only way out was up.

Inhaling, Janus closed her eyes. In the temple of Yesharu, an elevator shaft connected the worship hall to the monks’ quarters. She had ridden it several times. Once with Eros. Another time with Gemellus, years later.

The rock hidden beneath the mirrors bent to her will, rough stone transmuting as a cage of metal surrounded her and Talon.

Rocks collapsed and shook above her head as the earth was displaced, allowing a shaft to cut through its length.

Janus’s eyes flew open, meeting the mirage evoker’s one last time as his tendrils were about to reach her.

She glimpsed something in its shrouded mien: pride.

The elevator she conjured rocketed up, the sound of a lever being turned ringing behind her.

Talon gasped, nearly losing his footing. The mirror washed away as the elevator rose, revealing the rickety cage carving up through rock. Bronze light raged around Janus’ fingertips as her spell ferried them to the unknown.

Dark earth rushed past until the elevator burst above the surface and jerked to a violent stop, throwing open the doors and spilling Janus across the ground.

Jarred against a rock, Janus lost concentration on the memory—the metal cage collapsed as though quickly rusting, crumbling into dirt as it rejoined the earth.

An early morning sky greeted Janus. Mountains surrounded them, rocky and barren save for tufts of grass and the occasional tree. Talon dragged himself to his feet and offered her a hand.

Glancing back to ensure the mirage evoker was not behind them, Janus dropped the glass angel into her pocket. Staggering forward, she threw her arms around Talon and laughed.

“Good thinking.” He commended, breathing heavily. “You. . .come up with odd spells.”

“Felsin said whatever came to mind,” Janus murmured into his chest. Something wet and sticky ran down her arm. Blood. Stepping back, Janus noticed the bloodstained gauze wrapped around his arm. “Your arm-” She spluttered.

“I’m alright,” Talon said, surveying their surroundings. “We’re miles from the city.”

“What about the others?” Janus asked, trailing after him as he walked north.

“We hope they survived,” Talon answered.

Janus did not like that answer. Hand trembling, she unconsciously reached into her bag, brushing against the cool, smooth surface of the glass angel.

Its touch brought comfort, but also a deep sense of unease—its metal wings matched the mirage evoker.

Anmarite.