Page 23 of Samhain Savior

I didn’t blame her; the sight was quite gruesome. The entire right side of his torso was gone, the ribs there fractured and broken off, the skin that had encased them torn in jagged chunks.

Bending down to get a better look, I inspected the wound, noting that while the lungs were mostly still there, the heart and liver were conspicuously missing.

“It is a bite mark indeed.”

“What kind of creature would make a mark like that?” she asked, her curiosity drawing her closer to me again,bringing with her that sage smell I didn’t want to crave. “It’s....huge.”

She wasn’t wrong. The wound itself was nearly twelve inches in diameter, looking very much like a shark bite, but I knew exactly what kind of creature left a mark like that. If the teeth marks and missing liver weren’t enough, the smell of brimstone was a dead giveaway.

“A hell hound.”

From inside the pouch on the witch’s chest came a frantic squeaking, the pouch itself starting to move, and I snarled, my fingertips turning to claws again in an instinctual defensive response.

“Don’t hurt her!” the witch implored, opening the pouch and withdrawing...something. “She’s just upset is all. She doesn’t like hell hounds.”

Cupping her hands against her chest, the witch held the creature protectively, cooing to it softly as though I was a threat to it.

She wasn’t entirely wrong.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked, incredulous, as I stared at the wriggling ball of spines in her hands.

“She’s—”

“A hedgehog!” Vine shouted, darting around the table that held the body of our friend and crowding againstthe witch. “Aw! Look how cute. Hello, there. Hello, little one!”

The animal turned, its tiny nose moving rapidly as it smelled Vine’s extended finger, before offering up a series of clicks and then nuzzling against him. Watching, I could see the moment the witch relaxed, a soft smile on her face. Something inside me flared to life, wanting to tear Vine away from her, wanting to tear his throat out for daring to be the one to make her smile.

Her smiles should belong to me.

Sheshould belong to me.

“Vine!” I snapped, halting the ridiculous display he was putting on and allowing my fingers to return to their human visage. “If you don’t mind, we have work to do.”

“But boss,” he moaned, his eyes pleading. “You know how much I like familiars! I just wanna play with her.”

I said nothing, just stared at him, wondering how I had managed to go this long without killing him.

Shoulders slumping dramatically, Vine offered one last pat to the hedgehog, then made his way back to the table while the witch replaced it back in the pouch.

Sighing, I reached for a nearby tray of medical instruments, plucking up the pair of forceps in one hand and the golden relic in the other. The room fell silent again as I leaned over Phips’s wound, pinching a small pieceof his flesh from what appeared to be his lung—or what remained of it, anyway—and bringing it out of his chest cavity. Clenching my teeth against the ache in my heart at the grim task before me, I placed the small piece of flesh on the relic, letting it settle in the very center of the circle flame emblem.

For a moment nothing happened, and I worried that the fact that Phips was dead would mean his blood would no longer suffice. But then a series of soft clicks emanated from the inside, the thing vibrating against my palm lightly before there was apop, and the box sprang open.

It felt as though we all collectively held our breath as I gently lifted the lid, all of us tense with trepidation, wondering what we would find inside.

I’d never personally laid eyes on the pieces of the Fallen Key, so I couldn’t be certain what one would look like, but I was nearly positive that they weren’t made of folded parchment.

Because that’s all that was inside the golden box in my palm. One sheet of stiff paper, folded neatly, the wax seal still intact. It sat there, innocently waiting inside the satin-lined interior, and I ground my teeth in annoyance. The paper still looked new—at least in the grand scheme of things—clean and untouched by the elements, seeming as though it was mocking me with its simplicity.

“The fuck?” Vine muttered, and I had to agree. What the fuck, indeed.

Removing it, I slid the box back into my jacket before turning it over and frowning at the compact, precise script written on the outside.

“Who the fuck is Delilah?”

Chapter ten

Delilah