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K IDAN’S NERVES VIbrATED IN HER TAUT BODY. S HE FUMBLED FOR HER gun and aimed it at the ceiling. A gaggle of laughter followed her as she spun, trying to find the targets. The dranaic they’d tied up was taken by a whirling shadow. In the blink of an eye, Iniko and Taj vanished as well.

A young man in a suit jacket appeared out of the darkness, hand in pocket. Kidan didn’t hesitate. She pulled the trigger. He raised his arm, and the bullet collided with something like metal, bouncing off.

His lip curled at his ruined sleeve, and he peeled it backward. Kidan stifled her horror. His left hand and forearm were entirely coated with silver, button-like holes punctuating its hard spine. When he flexed his fingers, the silver shield shifted like the surface of water. Six or seven vampires stalked out of the shadows, flanking Kidan and her friends. Behind him, vampires waited, dark figures dangling from upper-level benches and fixtures.

Kidan lowered her gun. She only had one bullet left. It had to count.

A mountain of a man brought Taj and Iniko forward in spiked, blood-licked silver chains. Iniko’s perfect coat had ripped, and her bow was drenched in dark red. From the various cuts along her arms, it seemed that the dranaic blood on those spikes had penetrated deep, weakening her. Kidan hoped they didn’t pierce a vital artery. Taj had lost consciousness. But her choking dread dissipated a little when she noticed his chest rising and falling.

“Kidan Adane. A pleasure to finally meet you,” said the young man with the silver arm. He had three thick silver rings on his right hand, which he used to remove his suit jacket. Hardened muscle and several more metal chains were draped along his chest.

Kidan stepped forward, shielding Yusef’s shaking form. “Who are you?”

“He hasn’t told you my name? That’s quite like him.”

The vampire approached Slen, pulled her upright, and inhaled the scent at her neck in a sickening gesture. She flinched but didn’t protest. Kidan tugged Slen’s arm, freeing her from his grip.

The vampire cocked his head. “You can call me Samson Malak Sagad.”

“Sagad?”

He was distinct from the rest of the Nefrasi men because of his hair. There was no length, no twists or locs, just closely cropped dark hair that revealed a nasty scar running from the bottom of his ear into his neckline. Kidan gasped softly. She’d seen him in Yos’s memories briefly—the first to be turned, a boy with a scarred neck and an injured hand.

Was this the childhood friend Susenyos spoke of? The servant turned friend who massacred an entire raiding party with him?

“So, you do know that name.”

“Susenyos doesn’t have brothers.”

The vampire gave a chilling laugh. “Oh, you’re right. Susenyos and I are bonded by something much stronger than blood. ‘Sagad’ is for royals, it means bow —and you should.”

Kidan’s spine remained locked.

His eyes narrowed. “I see the same defiance in every acti that crawls out of that place you call Uxlay. Trained from childhood to think of us as your guardians. I can’t wait to introduce you to true fear.”

Kidan’s hatred was a sentient being, whispering foul things in her ear. “Where is my sister?”

His smile slithered on like a viper’s. “Lovely June is quite safe. I didn’t bring her to witness such a violent act, of course. She’s quite sensitive.”

Kidan’s grip on the gun slackened. After months of stumbling in the dark, she’d finally found June. June was within reach.

Her heart beat with a different wild hope. June could come home. All of this… All of this pain would soon end.

He studied each of them with murky eyes. “Let me see if I have this correct. Titus did report well. The leader Slen Qaros. The artist Yusef Umil. The saint Kidan Adane. Heirs to Great Houses of Uxlay.” He tsked at GK’s dead body. “Ah, and the miskeen nameless devout boy.”

Laughter cackled from the direction of the ceiling, his audience entertained.

Kidan bared her teeth. “What the hell do you want?”

He raised a brow, exchanging a glance with one of them. “You do need proper training.”

Blood boiled in her eyes, but she kept quiet. They were horribly outnumbered.

“There’s a Nefrasi tradition that new initiates partake in to deem their worthiness. Seeing as you’re trying to forcibly sacrifice one of us to raise your dead, I think it’s fitting you participate.”

The air rippled with violence as the Nefrasi shouted in excitement. The cheers echoed from every direction. Kidan tried to estimate how many there were. At least three dozen. Her resolve wavered like grass in wind.

Samson spoke to the ceiling, eyes gleaming. “It’s simple, really. The initiate holds a piece of silver and tries not to drop it, no matter the onslaught he faces. As the initiate is already dead, his body will be the silver. So, if you want your devout boy to transform, you simply can’t let go of him. What do you say? Give us one more play.”

Cruel laughter again. Yusef’s forehead broke out in sweat. Slen kept her chin aligned with the floor.

Samson settled in the front row of benches, crossing his legs. “Well, who will go first?”

“I will,” Kidan said quickly.

“Such a martyr.” His eyes flashed. “But I want the artist first. He looks ready to bolt.”

Yusef swallowed but stepped forward. Both Kidan and Slen blocked his path.

“We’re not playing your sick game.”

The Nefrasi leader tilted his head. Within a flash, Kidan was on her knees beside him, arm twisted so far back that a faint crack at her shoulder sounded. She hissed through her pain, unable to see her faceless attacker.

“You will go last, heiress.”

She struggled, watching the others through a curtain of her braids. Run , she begged with her eyes. Run.

Yusef, the fool, approached GK.

“What are you doing?” Kidan yelled. “Leave—Ah!”

Her arm twisted back farther, making her dizzy.

Samson spoke again, leaning forward. “Remember the rule. If any of you loses your hold on your friend, he won’t be transformed.”

Yusef studied GK’s face with an unreadable expression. Kneeling down beside GK, Yusef took his hand, unfurling the stiff fingers and intertwining his with them.

One of the Nefrasi, a young woman, stepped forward in high-heeled boots. A silver bar was fixed through the bridge of her nose and her hair was sectioned into two Afro puffs. She knelt and brushed Yusef’s face with the delicacy that only a lover could bring, whispering something Kidan couldn’t hear.

“Arin.” Iniko’s voice was sudden and strained. “Don’t do this.”

The two locked eyes. Arin dismissed her, stretching over Yusef like a feline about to devour him. Iniko hung her head. Kidan’s panic solidified.

From her pocket, Arin withdrew a small perfume bottle and poured the contents on their joined hands.

“What are you doing?” Yusef trembled.

Arin didn’t speak. She only withdrew a lighter and brought it to their hands.

Yusef’s voice hiked up in sheer horror. “No, no—don’t!”

When the first lick of flame touched his flesh, he screamed and brought his other hand down to squander it. It never made contact. Arin caught it, pinning it to the floor with her heel. Blue, violent flame circled their hands.

Slen fought against the vampires who shot forward to restrain her. Yusef’s scream carved itself into Kidan’s soul. She wanted to tear out her own ears.

“Yusef!” Kidan shouted. “Let go!”

Yusef refused to let go, his face scrunched up in agony. To stop him from burning alive in front of them, Arin pinched out the fire that reached past his wrist, keeping the flames at their joined hands. Skin bubbled and fell from where the fire ate away at their flesh.

That smell.

Bile rose up in Kidan’s throat. She spoke against the floor. “Please, stop. Please.”

Samson waved a hand, and Arin stepped away.

Yusef’s and GK’s hands remained grafted together. Slen broke free of her hold first, running toward them. She took off her jacket and wrapped their hands with it, extinguishing the flames. Yusef stopped screaming and slumped against her chest with a faded look. Slen couldn’t separate their hands without causing the skin to break. Her face contorted.

“Slen Qaros, next.”

Kidan saw red. She seized Samson Sagad’s right hand, the one with flesh, and bit into it. Hard.

Her teeth ground down on bone, gnawing until she tasted blood. He swore and flung her across the room. Her head hit the floor in spectacular pain. But she pushed past her blurred vision, fighting to find Slen. She spat what little flesh she had taken at Slen’s feet. Slen, quickly understanding, crawled forward to seize it—and screamed when a heel crushed down on her half-gloved hand.

“These girls,” Arin said, voice sweet as malice. “I love their fire. Let me keep them.”

“Trying to heal your friend’s hand with my finger. Quite poetic,” Samson Sagad snarled viciously.

Kidan remained on the floor, cheek pressed to cold stone. Her lips ran with the metallic taste of blood.

Kidan had done this to the others, dragged them to hell because of her guilt. Now she would watch them all die. Her tears pooled onto the floor, bleeding it a darker gray.

Where was Kidan’s strength? She’d never felt her humanness so potently before now. So weak and fragile. How could she ever protect anyone like this?

“ Enough ,” Slen snarled, shoving Arin’s heel away. She rose to her feet, eyes on fire. “I’ll tear out GK’s heart right now if you let us go. He’s already dead.”

The Nefrasi leader lifted a brow. “Such cruel logic. Are you three, then, more worthy of life than the devout boy?”

“We’re alive. Our worth is yet to be seen.”

He must have liked the answer, because he fished out an object, a knife from his chest pocket, and threw it at Slen’s feet.

“Go on. Show me your spine. Cut out his heart.”

Kidan propped herself up on her hands. “No.”

Slen dismissed her with a turn. She straddled GK’s chest and cut into his shirt with a violent rip. Yusef spoke too softly for Kidan to hear, but she could tell it was a plea. He reached to stop Slen, but in his weakened state, he was easy to shake off.

Slen measured from the base of GK’s throat to the middle and shifted slightly to the left before making an incision.

It took a very long time, her cut. The blood that spilled out was tar black. Kidan’s heart sank. They were too late. Soon, it would be impossible to rejuvenate the heart.

Still, Slen continued to work, with an unnatural slowness compared with her usual speed. There was no need for perfection now. She was stalling, her hand deep in his chest for what felt like hours.

“What’s taking so long?” Samson barked.

Kidan understood slowly, the idea fighting past her pulsing headache. Slen wasn’t cutting out the heart. She was holding it in place, trying to extend the time in which GK could be saved.

Kidan’s vision cleared.

She studied the Nefrasi leader. Samson Sagad didn’t want to punish them as much as he wanted to hurt Susenyos. Moving hurt like hell but she did, reaching for her pocket. Someone grabbed her in a steel grip, and Kidan rushed out, “My phone. Call Susenyos.”

Samson stilled, shooting his eyes in her direction.

“It’s him you want, isn’t it?” she said, voice defeated. “Call him and bring him here.”

I can’t leave Uxlay.

He observed her with the earth’s darkest sky, only a speck of star burning in it.

“You would lead him to his death to save your life?”

Kidan stared at the tear-stained stone. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He smiled at this, a truly brilliant smile. “Fine. Let’s bring him here.”