Page 24 of Malicent (Seven Devils #1)

The beast snarls, stepping fully into view.

Its muscles ripple under the black sheen of its coat, but my gaze is locked on its face—on the way it moves.

Its jaw unhinges, not just wide, but too wide, splitting apart with a sickening pop.

I watch with a mix of curiosity and slight horror.

A second row of fangs glistens behind the first, lining the cavernous opening of its throat.

Then both its cheeks open. Like gills, they flare outward, revealing even more rows of jagged, predatory teeth. Its tongue flicks, serpentine, ending in a needle-like tip. It moves like the snakes on its back, mirroring their eerie synchronized motion.

I don’t breathe.

Behind me, Kalix swears. “What the fuck—?”

He moves forward, but I throw out an arm, stopping him from getting closer. The beast watches us, sapphire-blue eyes gleaming with hunger—with something else.

Something intelligent.

Something familiar.

That color—that glow—I know those eyes.

From the shadows, Millicent steps forward—calm and unbothered. She walks alongside the beast as if it’s nothing more than a house cat, her hand running smoothly over its side.

“Nyx, down,” Millicent commands. Her voice is steady and controlled.

Nyx obeys immediately. Its grotesque cheeks seal as if they were never split open in the first place.

What was once a nightmare of fangs is a simple, oversized predator again.

It rubs its massive head into Millicent’s palm like a domesticated pet.

Kalix stiffens beside me, his thoughts a tangled mess of disbelief. Millicent doesn’t wait for us to gather our wits.

“About time you guys got here,” she says, tilting her head toward the carnage sprawled across the chamber. “We will need to collect a lot more samples.”

I follow her gaze to the true culprit. A Crepitus Vox, its body shredded, is sprawled across the cavern floor, but my eyes don’t linger on it.

I see a torso, small, childlike. Or it had been, once.

The grotesque twist of its unnatural limbs is a mutation.

Something wrong. Millicent had killed it, and judging by the half-missing head, it hadn’t gone down easily.

The head, rolled to the side of the body, shows a disfigured, mocking attempt at a female. I point toward the remains.

“Her…?”

“This Crep is advanced. It created an entire domain.” She exhales sharply, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “They’re too territorial to share areas, so when I killed…whatever that is, it must have pissed the Crep off. That’s when it came out to attack.”

I blink, “A domain?”

She nods, her hand absently scratching beneath the panther’s chin, as if this entire conversation isn’t horrifying. The beast leans into her touch, nearly knocking her off balance with the force of its affection.

“I don’t know how that’s even possible,” she mutters. “If a Crep can make a Domain, perhaps it was playing host to something. Somehow these two creatures are connected.”

Something cold coils in my stomach.

That’s impossible. Creps don’t host anything. They kill. They use their pulsing waves to paralyze and disorient their prey, luring them into a slow, helpless death. They’re not advanced. They do not build domains.

Millicent sighs through her nose, as if resigning herself to the conversation.

“It was able to penetrate my mental shield,” she admits.

“But only when I touched the girl.” Her fingers tighten around her panther’s fur.

“We need to take the entire body for Iris to study. However, touching her may be risky.”

I stare at her, unblinking. “Truly?”

The look she shoots me is flat. Unamused. “Truly.”

Her glowing blue gaze pins me in place, a slow frustration simmering in their depths. She thinks I’m an idiot. I break the stare first, dragging a hand through my hair as I walk over to the dead Crep and nudge it lightly with my boot.

Kalix, however, has not moved. His gaze is still fixed on the panther.

“So…Nyx?” He asks hesitantly, “Is this…? What the hell is it?” He blurts, unable to help himself.

She smirks, a rare glint of amusement flickering across her face.

“This is one of my shadow beasts.” She runs a hand down its spine, her tone casual, almost bored.

“Shadow work to create living beings can be simple or complex. Nyx is something I’ve worked on since I was little, so he’s… rather complex.”

Kalix points a cautious finger toward Nyx’s still-closed mouth.

“So, you made it?” His voice is skeptical. “Snakes and all? By all, I mean the mouth. Definitely the mouth.” I glance between him and Millicent, watching as the corner of her lips tugs upward—not quite a smirk, but close enough.

“I suppose,” she muses, running a hand over Nyx’s thick fur.

“I never planned it this way. It just…formed. Kept forming.” Her fingers trail along the panther’s spine, thoughtful.

“They say the caster shapes the beast. Personality, need—it all determines the form.” She exhales, her voice dipping into something reminiscent, almost nostalgic.

“Nyx has been with me a long time. Now, he shifts only when needed.”

She glances up then, her smile sharpening, a flash of something wicked and teasing in her gaze. “He has a twin, you know.” She pauses. “Shall I summon Twyx?

Wonderful, the insult to life herself has a whole army of beasts.

Kalix sheaths his sword so fast I hear the metal scrape against leather. He shakes his head, adamant, stiff. “No. Nope. Nooope. I am so good.” He takes one deliberate step back, then another. “I’m more of a dog person, anyway. Sorry to your…kitty cats.” He walks away quickly.

Millicent lets out a soft huff of amusement before turning back to her shadowy companion.

She runs her hand over Nyx one last time, murmuring something too low for me to catch, and he dissolves.

Shadows churn where he stood, a thick black fog that seeps downward like smoke pulled by gravity.

It spreads, slipping between cracks in the stone, vanishing into the darker corners of the cavern. Gone.

Kalix stiffens slightly, watching from the corner of his eye. His grip on his sword tightens before he forces himself to look away.

I exhale. We need to move. Kalix pauses near the corpse of the grotesque, malformed child-thing, pulling his cloak from his shoulders.

Silently, he crouches and begins rolling her body up.

Meanwhile, I kneel beside the shredded Creptius Vox, beginning the slow, tedious process of collecting samples.

To my mild surprise, Millicent joins me.

She lowers herself to the ground, placing her satchel beside her.

Kalix is right. We are working together. We have to work together. If I am to survive this, I need to be stronger. Letting emotion dictate my actions—rising to every taunt, every challenge—is a weakness. One I refuse to succumb to.

Millicent is here willingly, but not for the reasons Nora claims. I do not believe, for one second, that this has anything to do with Tyran and wanting to avoid persecution.

No, she has a reason. A plan. And, for now, I will use her.

I will let her fight, let her teach, let her reveal what she can do.

I will watch and wait, and one day, she will slip.

That will be her downfall. She will show her true colors, and when she does, I will strike.

She flaunts her power because that is what her coven demands.

She shows everything because it is in her nature to be seen.

I will not make the same mistake.

I will hold back. I will learn everything she is. And then, I will crush her with it.

The thought settles in my chest like a slow-burning ember, and I almost smile, even as the rancid stench of the Crep’s rotting flesh fills my lungs.

I continue collecting samples.