Page 15 of Ringmaster (The Kingdom of Shadow & Bone #1)

Azrael

“Help!”

Fear surges through my body like nothing I’ve ever felt before—heart-stopping, body-trembling, cold-blooded terror that hijacks every one of my senses.

I hear the thunderous rush of blood whooshing through my veins at the same time the delicious tang of pheromones wafts through the air—pure, undiluted fear tickles my nostrils.

I part my lips, darting my tongue out to taste it.

A moan claws its way up my throat, and satisfaction settles over me as I realize I know this fear.

The way it tastes, the distinct smell. The sound of that heartbeat.

My eyes squeeze shut. The soft, familiar brush of her fingers coaxes my mind to open. Then I see everything.

Mercy’s cousin is there. I recognize the observant boy from the market.

He holds a dagger, but I can’t see what it’s pointed at yet.

I spin. Mercy is screaming, her gaze fixed on something behind me.

My name on her lips is desperate and pleading, sending a surge of desire spreading over my body.

I turn, looking over my shoulder, and I see it.

A Seraphim—screeching, teeth bared, six wings flapping rhythmically. It runs toward Mercy. In my mind, I feel the vibrating echo as she begs me to rescue her, pleading for me to find her. My muscles twitch as I try to move them, but her mind has a hold of mine. I can’t break free from her grip.

Marblas nudges the back of my leg with his giant head, causing me to wobble on my feet.

The surprise startles me from the connection.

Everything disappears, and when I open my eyes, I’m back in the barn.

But I know the moment my thoughts are once again my own that Mercy is in danger.

Somehow, she channeled me to her and revealed everything through an omniscient view.

There’s no way an ordinary human can accomplish a feat like whatever just happened between us.

She’s mine. I’m certain of it. A protective rage builds from deep within me—an instinctive, primal urge to protect my mate.

A million questions rush through my mind.

There’s no time to explore a single one.

Adrenaline pumps through me with so much force I’m losing my human form fast. Soon, I’m only shadow, mist, and feather.

Black, inky feathers swirl as part of my being, forming the shape of wings.

Wisps of shadow corkscrew-curl around the feathers, as black, glittery mist seals the gaps—forming wings that lift me into the sky and through the streets of the city.

My shadows know where they’re going, directing the way as we breeze through the town unnoticed.

Wind swirls, and time slows. I’m all alone with nothing but my thoughts for company.

A Seraphim is behind all of this. It explains everything—from how the hunter entered the human realm, to who helped it escape, and why the town is overrun with snatchers searching for the soul the Fates deemed as mine.

The implications of these actions are going to shake the fragile balance between good and evil. Rage simmers within me.

If the Seraphim is targeting Mercy, then she’s a well-calculated mistake, part of a blanket sweep to eliminate women who pose a threat—or the Divine knows more than I do.

Once I return to the big top, I’ll search for more answers.

If the Ringmaster finds out, he could punish not only me but anyone he deems as an accomplice.

Madame Zora holds the only key to any potential answers I might find.

I have to know once and for all if Mercy is my soulmate, but an answer like that will require a grave sacrifice.

The terrifying goddess of night and servant of the underworld doesn’t provide information for free.

Before I can give it any more thought, a second wave of fear consumes my entire being.

The roar that rips from my body is so loud roofs shake below my haunting, misted wings.

Guilt washes over me next, followed by an intense feeling of grief.

I try to reach for her. My black, shadowy tendrils stroke at the mental connection, but they’re met with an impenetrable wall that singes each one.

I recoil in pain, shifting somewhere between both forms, hurtling toward the ground.

The impact of the hard earth rattles every bone in my half-formed body.

Quickly, ignoring the tremendous pain erupting from everywhere, I become a shadowy mist once more.

A few wingbeats later, I’m safely back in the skies.

I allow myself time to recover. The pain was unimaginable, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

Even now, I feel the dull ache of the simmer against my shadows.

My thoughts are scattered, but I know one thing for sure: I need to find Mercy. I have to know she’s okay.

Below me, the streets blur as I blast through the skies, scanning every part of the town in search of Seraphim.

Fuck. I hate myself for pushing her away.

If she’s dead—or if anything hurt her—or if she’s holding her dying cousin in her arms…

I can’t bring myself to think about it any longer. My shadows have located the creature.

I launch into a descent, cloaking every bit of my being in raven-black feathers, landing on the street below with a harrowing squawk from my jet-black beak.

The Seraphim is dead. Its lifeless body lies discarded in the street, disguised as a townsperson so the humans don’t see the unnatural wings jutting out from it, half-curled and stilled by death.

Mercy is nowhere in sight. Could she be hurt?

Was the hunter here? Did the snatchers carry her away?

How did they kill a creature of the Divine?

It’s more powerful than anything else they have sent to our realm.

My mind suddenly stills, all my thoughts emptying out, replaced by one single command.

“Come to me.”

My disguise falls away as I clutch my head.

Lucifer is summoning me. The Seraphim's soul is stuck in the portal between realms. I can’t ignore his call, but I need to know Mercy is safe.

And this body… it could be useful to secure the information I need from Madame Zora.

I force myself to stand, brushing off and doing my best to ignore the summons.

There’s no other choice. I have to stash the body and come back.

A second demand hammers through my body.

I feel compelled to burst into mist and appear before Lucifer.

It takes every ounce of power and concentration to fight the urge.

There’s no way I can withstand a third request. Scooping up the body, I stumble into the alley, discarding it in a broken wooden crate and piling other bits of trash around to conceal it.

I finish right as the third request echoes through me.

I vanish into nothing but smoke and wrath, swallowed by the shadows as I’m dragged to Lucifer’s realm. Hell.

The descent is over in an instant. Lucifer lounges before me, his hand strumming against his bone-carved throne. He looks at me with disdain.

“Well,” Lucifer drawls.

I don’t reply.

“Are you going to tell me why I had to summon you three times, Azrael?”

“I don’t have time for your childish games.

A Seraphim soul passed through the barrier and has jammed an entrance in the mortal realm.

I had to send in a special team to retrieve my prize.

It has to be extracted and placed back into a secure location.

” His words are clipped with agitation as he drones on about the mild inconvenience.

I hardly care to listen, staring at him, eyes glazed over but focused on preparing for the lies I’m about to tell.

I’m sure it looks like I’m not interested in the conversation in the slightest, but internally I’m mentally preparing every fiber of myself to tell a convincing lie.

One doesn’t simply lie to him. Lucky for me, I learned as a child I possess the ability to conceal key portions of information undetected. It’s a skill I’m quite proud of.

“Bow before me, Azrael,” my master commands. “You’ve forgotten your place.”

He flicks his wrist. Against my will, my knee drops to the ground, my arms fall into place, and I tuck my chin to my chest. At my back, large luxurious black wings tuck against my shoulders, folding themselves into a submission I yearn to resist.

“I’ll ask you one more time, Azrael. Where were you, and why did you ignore my summons?” He draws out each syllable.

“To be fair, your grace, you didn’t exactly give me enough time between each one to wrap up what I was doing. You wouldn’t have had to ask so many times if you had a little more patience, ” I mutter, choking back a laugh.

“Azrael!” the Ringmaster snaps, suddenly appearing beside Lucifer’s throne.

Behind him, jagged obsidian juts toward the ceiling, polished to perfection and reflecting the twinkle of imprisoned stars overhead.

His eyes narrow as he sets his jaw. Anyone else would tremble beneath that gaze.

It only feeds my disobedience and complete disregard for the severity of the situation.

“Where were you?” The Ringmaster snarls, echoing Lucifer like the perfect little parrot he was trained to be.

It’s obvious my grandfather is still in his favor—otherwise, the heirs would all be gathered here. Magic dissipates. Its hold on my body no longer lingers. Lifting my head, my lips give a twitch, a slight hesitation—then lift into a grin.

“Maybe I was fucking.” I lift my brow in a challenge.

“Amusing,” the Ringmaster responds, unfazed by my behavior.

“Or maybe I was closing in on the hunter when I heard the shriek from the Seraphim and went in search of it.” I lie smoothly, the skill coming to me like breathing—like bleeding.

The seer of truth-seeking magic flares against my nerves, burning into me, searching for a weakness in the web I’m weaving.

His gaze sharpens, boring into mine, but I’ve trained for this.

Learned the art of false stillness in the presence of the King of Lies.

My voice doesn’t waver. My heartbeat doesn’t flutter.

“Did you locate it?” Lucifer demands.

“I was trying to stash the body when you demanded my presence. I tried to get it out of sight so the humans wouldn’t dispose of it, but you summoned me with such force I apparated into Hell before I could.

We’ll be lucky if it’s still where I left it once you’re finished wasting my time.

” I’m careful to skate the lines between truth and lie, all the while remaining calm and in control.

Lucifer ignores my bitter reply, gleaming from it only what he finds useful. “If the body is recovered, you are to bring it to me here immediately. A Seraphim body is valuable; it could aid in our never-ending battle against the Divine. Glorified creatures,” he seethes.

I intentionally stop myself from responding, careful not to agree to anything—avoiding the magical binding properties any sort of deal with him might trigger.

Lucifer tilts his head, watching me with the cold amusement of a serpent coiling around its prey. Then he smiles. “It would be unfortunate if we’re not able to recover it.”

“Noted,” I reply, knowing I can’t avoid answering twice.

“Now, you mentioned you were tracking the hunter. I assume without the help of the Seraphim, you’ll locate the hunter and eliminate this problem that has taken far too long to extract. I’m disappointed, Azrael. It’s never taken you this long to complete an order.” He motions to dismiss me.

I rise, dip my chin in silent acknowledgment, then unfold my massive wings and burst through the ceiling, apparating to the mortal realm right before impact.

When I return to the alley, the Seraphim’s ’s body is still there. It’s cold but humming with divine energy. Carefully—so no one sees—I lift it with both hands, its unnatural weight resisting me as though the heavens themselves resent my touch.

The air bends around me as I shift planes. The world fades, dissolving into deep midnight hues. I arrive at the edge of the woods behind the big top, where the grass wilts in her presence and the moonlight dies before touching the ground.

Madame Zora is waiting. She knew I was coming, and I would expect nothing different.

Her enchanted boxcar smells of warm, fragrant incense.

Round emerald-green eyes take me in, landing on the body I’m clutching.

Behind her, the boxcar glitters with charm wards and dangling bones hang, blowing like wind chimes in the breeze.

A soft purple-streaked glow emanates from a crystal ball, leaking out through the door she left hanging open.

“I see you’ve brought me a gift,” she says, her voice a low melody threaded with magic.

I drop the body at her feet. “Payment.”

She kneels beside the corpse, one tattooed hand trailing down its blood-soaked wing. Her eyes glow softly beneath the moonlight.

“Seraphim blood is a rare currency,” she murmurs. “But it won’t buy you absolution.”

“I want answers,” I snap. “About her. About us.”

Zora rises slowly, the weight of her gaze pressing into my skull.

“You want to know if she’s your soulmate?”

“Yes.”

She steps closer, lifting to point at my chest. Her eyes are filled with starlight and secrets too old for this realm.

“If he finds out, we’ll both be punished, ” she warns.

She’s too afraid to say his name—a superstitious belief that uttering his name can provoke his presence.

“Then I guess we need to make sure he never finds out. Do we have an agreement?” I ask, extending my hand.

She eyes my hand wearily, attuned to the magically binding aspects of our agreement. At last, after a long pause, she slides her palm against mine.

“Then prepare your soul, Azrael. Because what I show you cannot be unseen. And once you know the truth… the Fates will demand their price.”

“There’s nothing they can ask for that I wouldn’t give them,” I swear. But Zora only laughs—an all-knowing, eerie, tinkling chuckle, as if I couldn’t possibly be so unprepared to be wrong.