Page 16

Not true. Malice might not care, but every pair of eyes in the vicinity has eye-fucked him at least once. And she’s only been here for half a night.

But that’s beside the point. Like the corsage, Wonder had assumed he’d stored the mixture someplace outside of the library, presumably on the cathedral grounds. However, the bracelet’s whereabouts might also be a sham. For all she knows, the corsage is hidden on his person.

During Malice’s first escape, he must have found time to prep and store Wonder’s gag someplace in the library. Why not the corsage as well? It’s the only way her crew wouldn’t have discovered these items in time.

She glowers. “I’m not giving you the letter.”

“I’m not giving you the corsage,” he replies smoothly.

“Then if we’re going to be at an impasse, we might as well set out now.”

“Last time I checked, The Dark Fates has been around since the dawn of time. Our homeland isn’t going anywhere.”

Insupportable creature! Wonder would ask what they’re waiting for. However, she already knows. Which is why she makes haste.

Her move? Okay then.

Because by now, Wonder has lured Malice close enough.

Leaning forward, as far as the manacles will allow, she flashes the demon a cloying smile. “You’re right. The Dark Fates isn’t going anywhere,” she concedes, then her grin drops like a house of cards. “But I am.”

Feeling generous, she gives Malice one second to frown, to process Wonder’s sweet tone, and to register how it clashes with the predatory expression claiming her features.

Then she strikes. Making two fists and pressing the insides of her wrists together, Wonder punches the underside of the phial, launching it skyward.

While the vessel flips, she moves with the speed of a lasso, snapping her arms forward and punching Malice in the face. Her knuckles crack into the demon god’s miserable visage, the blow flinging his head sideways. As a growl tears from his mouth, the phial lands in Wonder’s cupped palms.

Bodies swerve in their direction. Hollers erupt through the graveyard.

This affords her precious moments before Malice recovers from the blow.

Ducking her head, Wonder catches the stopper between her incisors, uncorks the lip, and spits it out.

Tipping back the liquid, she pours a droplet’s worth of the contents into her mouth and spews it onto her shackles.

Not the most sophisticated way to free herself, but at this juncture, she’ll take what she can get.

The bolt slumps open with an echoing clank. The bonds fall from her arms, iron chains shedding like snakeskin.

Everything happens in a flash of motion. With her hands liberated, Wonder pours another drop onto the restraints at her ankles, the second latch breaking open.

Sealing and pocketing the bottle, Wonder lunges to her feet and leaps over Malice just as his arms lash out to ensnare her. Pandemonium ensues. Shouts erupt through the cemetery, bows twanging and arrows renting the air.

Sprinting to her archery, Wonder swipes the weapons off the ground and charges for the cathedral.

While harnessing the bow and quiver, she pumps her limbs, twisting and spinning around the projectiles.

As far as proficiency, these outcasts are skilled.

But she’ll allow herself this one time to flatter herself, for they’re not as agile as the renowned Goddess of Wonder.

Diving, she tumbles over a tombstone and springs upright. A projectile shears past her shoulder, narrowly missing her throat. Malice’s roar cuts off the vibration of another nocked arrow, the noise preceded by a deafening scream that doesn’t belong to him.

Whatever’s happening behind Wonder produces a series of terrible sounds. Crunching bone. Blood splashing the grave markers. Deities bellowing. The demon hissing orders, something that includes the word “Mine.”

That’s when the severed arm goes flying. In the margins of her vision, the dismembered ligament sails through the air and hits the grass, a set of fingers still gripping an arrow that had been meant for her.

Wonder’s pulse accelerates. Pivoting ahead, she smashes through the doors and races into the chapel, the scents of stale air and old candle wax permeating her lungs.

The apse and its high walls create an echo chamber, the acoustics enhancing her outtakes as she barrels down the pews and crosses into the planetary nave, the ribbed vaulted ceiling further amplifying her breathing.

Malice’s boots slam against the floor, powering her way. While nocking her bow, Wonder blasts through the narthex and skids in place. At the bottom steps to the cathedral’s entrance, his cult forms a semicircle, their arrows braced toward her.

Foreboding crawls up her spine. If Wonder were facing a dozen, maybe she could take them down. Yet there are too many to defend herself against.

Still. Their postures may be confident, but prudence weighs down their expressions. Surely, they have seen their share of bloodshed, but never in opposition to a member of The Dark Fates’ elite crew.

Hoping that will give her an advantage, Wonder raises her archery. Then she tenses and swivels around. Having sensed his approach, she levels her arrow at Malice’s sternum.

The primitive beast stands there, panting and livid. Splatters of crimson stain his chest and archery. Whoever had gotten in Malice’s way of catching her didn’t survive, much less with their limbs attached to their body.

They circle one another, weapons angled while the crowd bears witness.

Hate, Scorn, and Calamity—the latter’s face is mummified in bandages—creep nearer, fencing her in.

But if Malice isn’t going to relinquish the corsage, and if he insists on waiting her out, so be it.

She has a greater mission, she has his letter, and now she has the Asterra Flora.

Hence, Wonder is leaving with or without him.

“Let me pass,” she snarls.

“Sorry, Wildflower,” the devil intones with deceptive calm. “Can’t do that.”

“I have a better idea,” another voice growls, this one forged by fire. “How about meeting your maker, instead?”

Wonder’s heart stops, dread leaking into her pores. She cannot decide whether to rejoice or despair, to be terrified for their sakes or for the irredeemable asshole prowling in front of her.

Every present deity turns in a different direction. Gasps and murmurs flood the area, torn between awed, combative, and astonished.

Six armed figures occupy a separate corner of the cathedral.

Anger wields his iron arrow from the parapet.

Merry takes a stance on the street, her long legs straddling her motorcycle, her fingers clenching the handlebars as though she’ll drive through the cult if she must. Andrew and Love, longbows nocked, flank Wonder and Malice on the stair landing.

Envy and Sorrow brandish glass and ice arrows from two of the upper windows.

Although the crew surpasses each member of the opposition in strength and vigor, at large they’re outnumbered by several hundred.

And that’s just a fraction of Malice’s cult through the city.

Only the crew’s notoriety stalls the ambush, the faction lifting their chins and scowling through the shock.

They’re not cowards, Malice matters to them, and they shall inevitably defend their turf.

Tenderness and fear infuse Wonder’s veins. Out of protectiveness, she hadn’t called out for help, hadn’t provided her location. And given how cagey Malice is, five of Wonder’s allies hadn’t known about this place. But the sixth member had.

Merry revs her engine. Her pink eyes narrow on Malice, unsurprised to find this creed here, the front wheels of her vehicle targeting their leader. The goddess has been contending with Malice for eons. Of course, she’d known where to find Wonder.

Wheeling toward Merry, Wonder implores, “Dearest, wait—”

Her archery falters. She gasps as a forearm cranks around her jugular and yanks her against a solid body. Malice moves like a viper, swift to point one of his arrows at the pulse of her throat.

It’s yet another bluff between them. And it’s an easy one since Malice needs Wonder alive. Yet that doesn’t mean this demon won’t issue a few well-placed cuts, enough for it to hurt.

Malice sighs. “Lower them, mates.”

From the sideline, Andrew pulls back his bowstring and speaks through his teeth. “Fuck off, demon.”

“Oh, that’ll happen soon enough. But first, hand over what’s mine.”

The crew balks until they realize he’s addressing Wonder. At which point, her insides twist like wires. This scene isn’t an accident; it’s a set up.

This whole time, he anticipated she wouldn’t surrender his letter without a fight.

He could have combated her in the library over this.

But based on Malice’s harrowed features when Anger blew through the vault ceiling during their prior battle, the demon’s motives are clear.

He hadn’t wanted to desecrate the library by causing more destruction.

All this for a slip of paper. That cannot mean nothing.

Aware that Wonder wouldn’t relinquish the last envelope without crossing arrows, Malice had brought her to this place, knowing the crew would inevitably come once they found the vault empty and Wonder missing.

However, the demon is not using her as bait against them.

No, he is using the crew against her . Because although Malice doesn’t like others fighting his battles, including his clan, this god does enjoy games.

Endangering her kindreds like this heightens the stakes, while also ensuring her cooperation.

The elite crew is capable of handling a brawl, with each member fending off multiple adversaries at once. Yet without allies from the east side, it’s still an uneven match. Anger alone can handle twelve opponents without breaking a sweat, but not fifty.

“How about an even exchange instead?” Love sneers, her maroon irises tapering. “Your skeleton for Wonder’s life.”

“And your intestines,” Sorrow adds from above.

“I vote for the testes,” Envy remarks while aiming through the window. “But nobody ever listens to me.”

“Don’t bother, kindreds,” Merry announces. “He’s not here to make deals.”

“Drop the fucking weapon,” Anger growls from overhead. “Release her!”

“I will. Just not here,” Malice remarks, his thick breath pumping against Wonder’s temple. “Now hand me the goddamn letter.”

“Dearests,” Wonder draws out to the crew. “It’s all right.”

But it’s not all right. Anger’s on the verge of charging like a comet, to say nothing of the rest of them. With the cult targeting her friends, there’s no way out of this but through more spilled blood.

Unless Wonder convinces the crew to disarm.

She holds each of their gazes. Trust me. I have a plan.

Indecision precedes a hiss of rage. As the leader, Anger knows about negotiation, and he’s aware of how much good resistance shall do them.

But just to be sure, Wonder mouths to the crew, Go.

Evanesce at once. Leave before the cult swarms them. Return to the mortal library, convene with their allies, and continue planning.

Let Wonder contend with Malice. Let her do what she must for this crusade.

Anger’s arms shake. With a locked jaw, he loosens his pull on the iron arrow, the motion startling the rest of their fellowship.

“Call off your hounds,” she grits to Malice. “And the letter is yours.”

“Good girl,“ he grits, lips scraping against her profile. “Where?”

“Under my skirt.”

Malice goes still. Any other time, Wonder would laugh at his surprise, taking gratification in shutting him up.

The instant he recuperates from that clincher, the demon murmurs into her ear. “Oh, that’ll do.”

The words throw shivers up her thighs. She’d basically given him an invitation to go on a scavenger hunt beneath her dress.

Later. Alone.

Only them. Cloistered together.

Until they arrive however, Malice’s hands are full. Now that he knows where to find his precious letter, he puts that on the back burner. Jutting his head toward the sea of vengeful faces, he hollers, “No one touches her crew.” Then he smirks. “At least until we get back.”

Anger’s pupils blaze like infernos. Similar reactions spread among her friends, all of them sensing a trick. More than one realization shears through the fellowship, distress and fury consuming their features. Because the thing is, they had believed Wonder.

Plan? She has no plan. Not yet.

Wonder isn’t sticking around anymore than Malice. And the crew is about to find out how he escaped his shackles that first time.

“I hate you,” she whispers.

Malice chuckles as if the comment is uproarious, then fishes the phial from her outer pocket. “If you’ll excuse us, mates. My perennial partner and I have homework to do.”

“No!” Love and Merry shout. One female leaps from her position while the other throttles her motorcycle. This forces Andrew to run across the landing, and Anger to jump from the parapet, each male ensnaring their mates.

Wonder levels her friends with a warning look, especially Anger and Love, who have the power to cross worlds without the aid of Asterra Flora.

Don’t you dare follow us.

Malice uncaps the phial and drops a bead onto his tongue, then raises the container to Wonder’s mouth. “Open wide.”

It’s decided. She is about to make his life a living fucking hell. Seething, Wonder parts her lips, a bead of liquid seeping into her palate, tasting of sour berries.

To shift realms, they need a portal. After corking the mixture, Malice hustles Wonder into a beam of starlight, and the ground ripples beneath them.

The cult rears backward. Meanwhile, her friends stand by, helpless as Wonder vanishes into another world.