Page 98 of Liar Witch

I disappear back onto the spirit plane, then reappear behind him before he can finish casting.

Shen’s eyes go wide as Rinaldi’s throat opens up from left to right in a fountain of blood in front of her. Her hand goes straight to her own weapon, but I don’t wait for her to be ready.

My own blade takes her sword-hand first.

I kick away the fallen appendage without pity, watching as the shock on her face melts away to horror. “I promise you’ll die slowly for what you did to my friend.”

When she opens her mouth to scream for help, I don’t hesitate. A kick to her abdomen has her too winded to do more than bend double, gasping for air. The pathetic noises she makes as she tries to force sound out of her throat fail to stir any form of sympathy in me as I tear the gag away from her belt.

How many sirens has she forced to wear these awful contraptions? Digging my fingers into her cheeks, I manoeuvre her jaw until I can force the strip of leather between her teeth. When the gag is secure, I knee her in the stomach to keep her down while I tighten the leather strap behind her head.

She struggles, but she’s smaller than me, in pain, and heavily winded.

It’s not a fair fight, but that doesn’t stop the surge of satisfaction as I kick her legs out from under her, sending her sprawling onto the floor, hard.

Shen doesn’t even try to get back up. Though, that could be more to do with the blood loss than fear. The stump where her hand once was is still losing a lot of blood, and her skin is draining of colour, fast.

I don’t want to waste my supplies on this bitch. I also don’t want her to die so easily after what she’s done to all of those sirens. After what she’s done to Cassie.

Vindictiveness wars with my practical instincts and wins. I shove my hand into the pouch at my waist, digging for the charm that will stop her bleeding to death.

I’m not done with this bitch. The cruelty she showed the sirens demands a much harder, more brutal death than that.

The mage, Rinaldi, might have run this place, but this woman... the enjoyment on her face as she plunged Cassie into that hole... she made her deathpersonal.

“Let’s see how you like drowning in one of those tiny cells you force those sirens into,” I growl, slapping the bone amulet over her wound.

I wait long enough for the stump to cauterise before I remove it. I don’t want to waste power healing her. That done, I cuff her remaining hand to her opposite ankle behind her back, making sure she’s not going anywhere as I turn to Rinaldi’s corpse.

Athena demanded his head as a groom price. She’s going to get it.

Hacking a skull from a body is messy work. Messy enough that Opal leaps from my shoulders and takes a seat a few feet away while I cleave through his neck. The salamanders watch in silence as my hands turn red with his blood and the blade threatens to slip through my grasp.

When I finally sever the last bit of skin, I grab a fistful of his slimy hair and grimace as I’m forced to tighten my grip as the blood-slick head almost slips from my grasp.

“Present for our new mother-by-mating acquired,” I mutter to my familiar as I quickly stuff the gory trophy into the small sack I brought specifically for this. “Now, what do we do about them?” I jerk my head at the shifters.

All four of them hiss, and I raise a single brow.

“They’re prisoners as much as the sirens are,”Opal comments.“Perhaps they should be freed as well.”

“They’re not part of the mission,” I mutter, wiping my hands on my trousers. “Who knows what damage four hulking great shifters will do to our chances of getting Cassandra out of here alive.”

All four salamanders stop hissing at that. The one farthest from me even starts shrinking in on itself, almost like it’s trying to make itself less of a threat. The one closest does the opposite, glaring at me, daring me to make the decision to leave them behind.

They’re definitely shifters. They’re too sentient to be anything else.

Dammit. This might mess everything up, but Opal’s right; they’re clearly prisoners too, and I can’t just leave them here.

“If I let you free, you won’t get in my way.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand.

The four exchange glances. Some silent communication seems to pass between them. When the one closest to me lifts and lowers its head in an unmistakable nod, I breathe out a sigh.

I stick my hands into my pockets, rummaging.

I have the captain’s keys now, yet there’s no lock on these collars. They were never meant to come off.

“Hold still,” I warn, approaching the first. “If I get this stuff on you, it willhurt.”