Page 20 of Song of the Hell Witch

“No! You do not get to speak of him.” Paris’s eyes turned to slits, and she swore she could see tears swimming between his eyelids.

“I knew it would take some convincing to free him from your spell. I thought perhaps showing him how violent you could be, or better yet, ripping you out of the world so he could think clearly, would lead him back to the Lightbringer’s path.

Force him to see that this new world General Hale seeks to create is the only path forward for Leora.

And then you go and tear his throat out. ”

In her periphery, Prudence watched Puck set Bea down. He found her eyes from across the room, and while she wasn’t sure she could do it anymore, she concentrated on reading his lips: Distract him. Going to run.

“But perhaps it’s all for the best,” Paris continued, buying Puck more time. “After all, now all of Talonsbury knows what you really are. The evil you and your kind are capable of.”

“The evil I’m capable of?” She squeezed her shoulder blades together, and the hum began, singing through her jaw, down her back, into her blood.

Across the room, Imogen slowly pushed herself to standing, sliding her good leg beneath her, moving quietly.

“You really think the people of Leora are as gullible as you are?” she scoffed, knowing how much it would anger him.

“Not everyone needs a leader to follow, Paris. Most people in this country just want to be left alone. To live , not just get by. You know, I bet most people don’t even believe in the Lightbringer.

They just go to Sanctuary and comply with the Apostles to keep out of trouble. ”

Paris’s weak jaw clenched. “Blasphemy.”

“Mmm. I think it might just be the truth. But enough talking.” Prudence opened her arms wide. “You’re here now. So kill me.”

“The Zeraphel do not seek to kill you yet, Hell Witch.” Beside Paris, the Zeraph’s voice rang like a tuning fork, each word a wave tremoring through her molars.

Her dread intensified. She could feel his power brushing up against her own, a discordant melody threatening to overtake it.

Even Puck and Bea staggered in its wake, blinking the shock back.

“No, your death must be a spectacle. The death of the treacherous Duchess of Talonsbury, a serpent coiled in plain sight, ready to lay the Lightbringer’s new kingdom low. ”

“A serpent, eh?” She sank deeper into her own body, begging the transformation to take over. Heat lit up her wings, but the skin along her shoulders wouldn’t split, like her power was trapped. “But that would make me a—”

“ Go! ” The shriek ripped through the flat, and before Prudence even realized it was Imogen shouting, the succubus tore toward the Zeraph.

Her face was rounder, eyes wider, her malicious snakelike pupils aimed at the dark angel.

She ran lopsided, screaming as she went, her pain and fury turning her into a wild, unstoppable force.

Puck shoved Bea forward, and she dashed under the Zeraph’s wings. Marigold caught her, and Puck tried to follow, but as Imogen collided with the Zeraph, his wings sent Puck flying backward. His head cracked hard against the wall and he slumped to the floor, limp as a rag doll.

“Get Bea out of here!” Prudence screamed at Marigold, and with the girl clutched tight to her chest, Mari bolted out the front door and into the night.

Prudence prayed the attack hadn’t unleashed more of the poison into the girl’s veins, that Marigold could keep Bea calm, convince her that her father would be all right.

Because he would be. She’d make sure of it.

The talons curled over her fingernails, the pain more intense than it had been in years, her power too weak to provide a proper buffer. The skin along her spine finally let go, and she doubled over as the wings ripped out of her. Gold stars danced before her eyes.

Normally, she could fend off the beak, but her strength was gone.

The bones in her nose crunched and shifted, melding with her lips, remaking themselves.

She screamed, pounded her fists against the floor, squeezed her eyes shut.

The darkness beckoned, and she wanted so badly for it to bear her away from the agony.

And then the memory of the attack strobed before her, Paris’s face flashing from beneath the hood. He snarled, pleased with his accomplishment, dull eyes burning with a hatred that tasted like iron.

“ Pru! ”

“Puck?”

She pushed herself up.

Rain slanted in from the broken window and the opening in the ceiling. Glass littered the floor. The Zeraph had thrown Imogen out into the back alley, and now he was hoisting Puck off the ground, an alabaster hand gripped tight around his throat.

Puck kicked at empty air, his eyes bulging in their sockets. He clawed at the Zeraph’s hand, but he might as well have been fighting a statue.

Rage jolted through Prudence’s marrow, her sinew, her soul, and she harnessed it, turned it into the force that lifted her off the ground.

She launched herself at the Zeraph, catching him in the side.

Puck plummeted to the floor, and then Prudence and the Zeraph barreled through the wall.

Glass from the shattered window sliced through her shirt, digging into her sides.

She tried to fling the Zeraph away from her, but his nails punctured her shoulders, and he was pulling her up, high above the rooftops of the city.

Locked together, they soared over the Hodgepodge District, their wings beating the mist-filled air. She couldn’t see where she was going in the dark. Below them, sleep-drunk Groundlings stumbled out of their houses and tenements, and the few stragglers still at the pubs poured out into the street.

But the dark and the gathering crowd and the colors all blurred around the body splayed out on the cobbles.

Imogen.

The Zeraph catapulted them over the Twisted Turtle, still bustling even at this late hour.

Remembering what he’d said about spectacle, Prudence tried to force him into one of the back alleys, out of sight.

A crowd would only invite trouble, a larger manhunt that could unite the whole country in a desperate effort to weed out Hell Witches.

But she was a starling fighting an angel, a creature four times her size with ten times the power.

“What are you?” she shouted with her whole chest. Power, magic, had only ever belonged to the women of this world.

“We are the Lightbringer’s true warriors,” he said, and something about his smile felt forced, like he was playing a part in some play. “The servants of the Light, finally in possession of the power stolen from us.”

Gritting his teeth, he forced her into a roll. She tried to spin away from him, but it was useless. The fight was leaving her.

“You and your kind, always thinking you’re stronger,” he snarled. “Learn your place, she-demon.”

She-demon. It was so unoriginal. So … wrong .

Her fury was visceral, writhing and white hot. Screeching, she folded her knees into her chest and kicked out, striking him square in the sternum.

The blow surprised him. He flew backward, skidding along the tavern’s rooftop. The shingles scattered away from him until finally he managed to get a grip, landing in a crouch.

“Do you see?” a voice shouted from below.

Paris’s voice. Prudence’s lungs withered as gasps and screams broke out.

He was in the street, stretching his arms up to the sky, pointing at her as more and more people threw open their windows and lumbered out of their houses, awakened by crashes and bangs.

“There’s your beloved Duchess of Talonsbury.

The Hell Witch that murdered my brother!

See her for the beast she is! See how she torments you—”

No, she wanted to shout, but it didn’t come in time.

Puck, limping through the hole in the wall, collided with Paris, tackling him to the cobbles.

Paris yelped as he hit the stones, and then Puck was on him, swinging like a man possessed.

But his fists only occasionally found their target.

He was off-balance, punching half blind.

As he reared back for another blow, Paris pulled the dagger he had used at the estate.

“No!” Prudence scrambled to her feet, forgetting the Zeraph poised on the other side of the roof and the mob he’d whipped up.

But as she pressed up onto the balls of her feet, prepared to swoop in, she realized she wouldn’t make it in time.

Paris’s arm was coming down, the blade plunging toward Puck’s heart.

Imogen was a streak of blue, a furious miracle racing at Paris, crashing into him with her full strength.

She hooked her arms around his waist, and together they slid across the stones.

The dagger flew out of his hand, and Puck, still capable of thought despite what had to be a massive headache, rolled over and seized the weapon.

“That’s Puck Reed!” someone shouted in the crowd. “The Podge’s Thief Lord! He’s with the witch!”

“He’s got a dagger!” another person yelled.

Someone in the crowd fired a shot. The bullet missed Puck by inches, plowing through what remained of Marigold’s flat. Puck flung himself sideways as another bullet whizzed over his head.

“ Run! ” Imogen bellowed, and he took off toward the riverbank.

The Zeraph dove off the rooftop, shoving his legs out in front of him. He hit Imogen square in the chest, and her feet flew over her head.

Prudence cawed as she pushed off the roof, rushing toward Imogen.

Another gun fired, and vicious heat sliced through her nerves as a bullet grazed the outside of her right wing, veering her off course.

Using the wind to carry her, she landed on the nearest rooftop, then turned, ready to go back for Imogen.