Page 45 of Malicent (Seven Devils #1)

Millicent

A LAUGH RIPS FROM THE BACK of my throat, my voice raw and broken.

It shakes loose from my chest, wracking my body until pain spears from the carved section of my breast to my back.

The pain sharpens; it’s bright, almost blinding, but it only feeds the laughter.

It grows wilder, louder. It’s maniacal.

I hardly even recognize my voice anymore.

I rake my fingers into the dirt—deep, desperate—over and over again, clawing through the earth until my nails snap on jagged stones buried beneath the surface.

I don’t feel it. Pain is meaningless now.

“I’ll kill you,” I whisper, still laughing. “I will fucking kill you, Cage!” I scream, throwing my head back and howling into the tree line where he vanished.

“Eat me!” I laugh. “Feed me to the fucking lizard! As If either of you could stomach me!” I shove myself upright to my knees.

The sky yawns open above me, and I laugh up at it.

Finally, I look down. The deep, jagged C burned into my skin glares up at me, carved just under my left clavicle and down a path to my breast, soaking the shredded remains of my gown crimson.

I drag a battered finger along the path of blood, lift it to my mouth, and suck it clean. I swirl my tongue slowly, tasting every bitter drop. A low groan escapes me, and a giggle follows as I pop the finger free from my lips.

Finally, I rise.

Sheep for thee to slaughter.

SHEEP FOR THEE TO SLAUGHTER.

The Nightmother’s chanting crackles with a shrilling laugh, encouraging me to go further and take it all. It’s my right. It’s the law of nature.

The grass withers around me—curling, blackening—as my magic rolls off me in thick, suffocating waves.

I let it build—let it throb.

And then I release it.

A black cloud explodes outward—life devouring. Trees groan, and branches warp and snap as nature itself tries to recoil from me, but there is no escape; there never is.

My magic floods the earth like the coming darkness at the end of all things. Thick, living tendrils of smoky blackness race across the ground, coiling between the trees, crawling toward the one thing I seek.

Him.

The world warps around me, the earth turning into something dark, writhing, and alive with my hate.

And there will be no mercy—not anymore. I walk leisurely through the trees without ever losing my smile.

Tonight is a wonderful night. I get to kill my mother’s killer.

Birds plummet from branches as I pass, quiet, heavy thuds filling the woods like a symphony of decay.

I don’t follow death. I am death.

Frustration flares when I can’t immediately locate him. No. This simply won’t do. I raise both hands. Power collects in the spaces adjacent to me—thick and writhing—before ripping the very air apart.

Two oval voids tear open with gaping maws of endless darkness, their edges rippling like fine black silk. A sudden chill pierces through the air, and the faint scent of burning iron permeates the greenery. From within, they prowl forth.

My hounds—four of them—are terrible, skilled hunters, birthed from my hatred and hunger.

Each is a nightmare stitched from shadow and bone.

Six eyes burn atop their skeletal wolf heads, glowing a vibrant, blue.

Their bodies ripple with shifting fur—tones of deep violet, dark sapphire, and blood red—like bruises painted across their monstrous frames.

Their heads are bare bones. When they open their jaws, it’s not just one row of fangs but many—spiraling rows of teeth meant for nothing but to rip things apart.

They inhale in unison, air whooshing through the slits atop their skulls; their bodies catch fire from the inside out.

Blue flames lick up their spines, casting the trees in eerie, flickering light.

I smile wider. “Kill for mommy,” I say sweetly. My voice drips with vicious affection. They don’t need names. They don’t need direction. Each beast is a pure manifestation of my will—an extension of my hunger.

They turn as one, and they are bound into the forest, burning trails in their wake. They’re locked onto their prey. Locked onto his scent.

I follow, leisurely, step by step. Their path carves a bleeding trail through the woods, leading me straight to the little mage who thought he could brand me and walk away.

I don’t know how long I walk. Time doesn’t exist anymore.

Not to me. There is nothing but hunger, rage, and the need to rip Cage in two and wear his skin like a trophy.

The castle looms ahead, silhouetted in the dead light of my magic.

My hounds prowl the grounds, pacing and circling for a time before one lets out a long, shrieking cry.

They’ve found something: the entrance to the mages’ wing.

They continue pacing, waiting for my approach.

“Stop!” a guard shouts, stepping into my path, and his spear braces against trembling hands.

“I have not even begun,” I say darkly. The hounds lock onto their new target and take off.

The guard's eyes widen in terror. He blows into the horn on his neck, alerting others to the danger just outside the castle walls.

It is of no use.

My hounds leap, fangs flashing and claws extended to shred him limb from limb. Before they can make contact, a roar of fire pours from the mouth of the entrance behind him. Scarlet flames billow outward, forcing the hounds back. They snarl, pacing at the sudden wall.

A young mage steps through the inferno. Wild red hair tangles around her face, and she’s still wearing a nightgown, but her hands are steady, fingers spread wide to control the rising wall of fire.

The flames split the night open, turning darkness into blood-soaked day.

The heat kisses my skin, even from yards away.

Cute.

I raise my hands, gathering my magic to snuff out her little show, but movement to my left catches my eye.

Someone charges me with arms outstretched—reckless.

I pivot, magic thrumming through every fiber of muscle. My fist slams into his ribs with bone-shattering force. He flies back, crashing into the ground. It’s only then, as he gasps and coughs, that I recognize him.

Kalix.

It doesn’t matter. He should have stayed out of my way.

“I can—and will—break every bone in your body,” I taunt sweetly, playing with my new target.

Kalix gets to his feet. His breathing is heavy, but his face is calm—unfazed—like I hadn’t just thrown him around like ragdoll. He starts to circle me, calculating his next move.

I don’t call the hounds. I want this one for myself.

His eyes flicker to the carved C on my chest—to the ruin left behind. “How did you get hurt?” He asks, voice careful. His hands rise slowly—palms out—like he’s surrendering. “Millie,” he says. “You don’t want to do all this.”

I grin wider. “I actually would love nothing more than to do all this.” Joy bleeds through me; it fills me with something bright, manic, and unstoppable.

“Iris is in there,” he says, tilting his head toward the castle, “You want the hounds getting to her?”

“They won’t touch her,” I snap. “They’ll only touch who I want. Bring me Cage.”

“Not happening, Mill.” He dares a step closer. “How about we take a walk?”

I laugh so hard I bend at the waist, gasping for air.

When I straighten, I tilt my head in cold amusement at the idiot before me.

“A walk? I am tired of this.” I raise my hand.

Shadows lash out as black ropes twist through the air, wrapping around his throat and tightening until they scream against his skin.

I lift him off the ground like a doll, his feet dangling uselessly. “I will not beg for what is mine.” I snarl. “I will rip Cage from his bed; brick by brick, I will tear down this fucking castle. I will destroy it all.” My excitement rises, making my heart beat faster with anticipation.

Yes, take it all, the Nightmother whispers. It was always yours.

My vision blurs—edges pulsing black—and I feel her influence sinking deeper into me, leeching and distorting my emotions.

My shoulder jerks involuntarily at her invasion.

“Such a good pup you’ve been.” I purr at Kalix, tightening the noose of shadows coiling around his neck.

“Always so obedient. Always so useful. I’d keep you—if I had the energy to train a bitch not to be so weak.

” I snarl the word like a curse. “I’ll make sure my hounds eat your remains. I’m so generous after all.”

His face is calm. Unshaken. It infuriates me.

I flick my wrist hard. The shadows snap tighter with enough force to shatter bone and sever spines. There’s no snap or break.

Instead, I stumble back, confused that Kalix stands in front of me completely unharmed and calm. My magic is gone from his throat.

And for the first time, I feel doubt.

He sighs, crossing his arms and looking down at me. “There it is,” he says softly. “Your bad side.” He shrugs—a tired, sad little gesture. “We all have dark sides,” he adds, voice blurring at the edges. “You will be okay.”

His words slur slightly, and that’s when the first thread of unease tugs at me.

“Wh–what? What did you do?” My heart slows—heavy, dragging—and I realize…

I can’t hear my hounds anymore.

A sideways glance shows only empty grass. The waves of magic that had blanketed the forest have dissolved.

Kalix takes a slow step forward, still reaching out to me.

“Somnex,” he says gently. “Absorbs through the skin. It’s coated my whole shirt. And incidentally…” He smiles faintly, exhaling slowly before lowering his voice. “Your fist.”

I stagger, panting through my fight with the sedative. Then his hands reach out for me. “Don’t touch me,” I slur, swatting at him weakly.

He ignores the flailing. He scoops me up, one arm under my knees and behind my shoulder. He cradles me to his chest like I’m something fragile. I try to resist and snarl, but my body betrays me, and I can do nothing more than mumble my protests.

I sag against him, head lolling back. My eyelids become too heavy to lift. Somewhere in the haze, I manage a glare, I think.

“Where’s Oliver?” he says gently; he’s being kind.

“Oliver?” I echo weakly.