Page 24 of Wings of Darkness (Daughter of the Seven Circles #2)

Alexei, MJ, and I circled the outskirts of Veil Forest, searching through the gnarled dark limbs.

Spinewalkers crept through the mysterious, never-ending fog, their elongated black bodies as spindly as the trees.

If not for their jagged spinal columns protruding from their ten-foot backs or the large ovals that represented their faceless heads, they could easily be mistaken for the trees themselves.

Fortunately, the disturbing creatures were harmless—as long as you didn’t touch them.

The wind carried the Spinewalkers’ wails through the branches and snuck beneath our uniforms .

“MJ.” Alexei raised his gloved hands and batted his eyelashes. “Warm me up. I’m freezing my balls off, and you’re the only one who can fix it, sweetness.”

Sighing, I whipped up a wall of shadows immediately after MJ threw a fireball toward Alexei’s head. I was in no mood to see who would fry the other faster.

Alexei smirked. Bastard knew I’d step in.

“You know I’m not always going to be the buffer between you two. So you’d better come to terms with being shriveled and bald or refrain from taunting her.”

Alexei flashed a wry smile and flicked his fingers, sending tiny sparks of lightning crackling toward MJ.

He managed to duck before the next fireball singed his head.

A sharp scream pierced the wailing wind, ceasing their childish behavior.

Alexei drew his daggers, I unsheathed my swords, and MJ readied her bow.

“Why do the screams always come from Veil Forest?” Alexei muttered. “Isn’t the unnatural wind, fog, and Spinewalkers enough?”

“Don’t forget the Hellhounds,” MJ added.

“How could I ever forget those bastards? A pack of them is probably waiting for us to step into their domain and drain our blood.”

MJ shrugged and strode into the barren woods with balls the size of a Soulhound.

“MJ,” I commanded, stopping her in her tracks.

Sometimes, I wondered if she had a death wish. Her confidence bordered on recklessness these days. But after her cordistella was killed, half of her soul died—and she no longer feared death. She sought it.

“Alexei’s right. We need to take to the sky first.”

She nodded, and the three of us summoned our wings.

We shot into the air and circled the forest. The vile wind howled around us, a living thing that slipped beneath armor crafted to withstand the extreme cold of the Redemption Circle.

Our uniforms never protected us from Veil Forest’s wind, whether above it or in it.

For Alexei and me, at least. MJ, as a fire Power, never seemed to feel the cold.

“Look there,” MJ called out, pointing at a body dangling from the branches of a tree.

We flew to it.

Not it —her.

“Scout a circumference for threats. I’m going to attempt a body count.”

My second and third nodded before flying off.

I sent out a dark stream of my power and immediately battled against the wind.

It blasted through my wispy tendrils, scattering them into inconsequential pieces.

I pushed more strength into my shadows, and the wind roared, slamming me back.

My wings strained to keep me airborne as the Veil Forest fought me tooth and nail.

Releasing more shadows, I managed to weave a tendril across the forest floor, searching for blood, heat signatures, or movement.

It picked up a pool of blood beneath the female’s body and a trail leading away from her. Before I could follow it, the wind blasted my shadows apart. I pulled back my power, and the wind eased around my wings.

MJ and Alexei flew back .

“All’s clear. Did you find anything?” Alexei asked, sounding doubtful.

“No Hellhounds or creatures in the vicinity. Only a trail of blood leading from her body.”

They nodded, and we dropped to the forest floor, unsummoning our wings.

Blood and grime obscured the female’s face, but I recognized her. “Bonny?”

“You know her?” Alexei asked.

“She’s the human maid who works on my floor,” I said, surveying her shredded body and the uniform hanging off her in scraps.

Both raised their brows.

“Who the hell brought her all the way out here?” Alexei asked, throwing his blade and slicing through the rope holding her neck at an awkward angle.

Bonny dropped, and I caught her, knowing she was dead.

MJ summoned orbs of fire. Their heat seared through the thick fog coiling around our shins. We caught sight of the glistening pool of blood—and something darker—before the wind roared and snuffed out her flame.

An angel might survive that much blood loss, but a human would not.

“Do you think they infiltrated the castle or captured her outside it?” MJ asked.

“The king would know if someone infiltrated his castle,” I said confidently, lowering Bonny .

“Just like he knows how the Damned Souls are infiltrating the Redemption Circle?” Alexei countered.

He had a point, but his comment didn’t sit well with me. I’d have to post a few Nightmares near the castle entrances.

Fog crept over Bonny’s body, swallowing her from sight. If not for my hand on her shoulder, I wouldn’t have known she was there.

Flame whipped from MJ’s hand, slicing through the fog and wind, bringing Bonny back into view. She pressed her fingers to Bonny’s neck, checking for a pulse. But we all knew she wouldn’t find it. She shook her head. “Dead.”

“I’ve never seen cuts like these,” Alexei said, pulling back the soaked fabric.

My stomach dropped when he revealed the expanse of her skin.

“That’s because they’re bite marks.”

“From what?” MJ asked, revulsion lifting her lip.

“They’re too small to be from a Hellhound. But they—” Something about her blood seemed off near her exposed chest. “MJ, hold your flame here.”

She summoned it, battling the pissed-off wind. Her flames flashed in and out of view as the wind shoved against her, whipping her hair.

“What the fuck is that?” Alexei exclaimed.

Black veins surrounded the bite marks, and dark gunk oozed out, mixing with the blood between her breasts.

Dread settled in my gut. Silas had similar veins—but I didn’t remember any bite marks on him when he was interrogated.

“That’s enough, MJ.”

She pulled back her power, and the wind stopped attacking.

A branch snapped. All of us stood, weapons drawn, eyes scanning the dark trees. But aside from a few Spinewalkers in the distance, nothing stirred.

Then the hum began—slow, soft, and unnervingly familiar. The sound swelled, growing louder until it cut off sharply as a Damned Soul emerged from behind a tree.

I shot MJ a quick nod, and she released two arrows. They whizzed over our heads and pinned the Damned Soul to the trunk. He gurgled a laugh.

“Damn, they just keep getting more repulsive,” Alexei said, slowly approaching. “Remind me to ask the king not to send me to the Immolation Circle when I die.”

The male’s naked, hairless body glistened with a pinkish sheen, black gunk weeping from his wounds.

Alexei narrowed his eyes at the fluid. “Is it leftover from whatever the Immolation Lord uses to burn them with?”

“That doesn’t explain the veins,” I replied. “Or his horns.”

“Are we sure he isn’t a demon?” MJ asked, though her voice lacked conviction.

Demons might be the only creatures with horns or grotesque features, but they couldn’t survive in Hell without a soul. They belonged to Lilith. We’d wiped them out centuries ago, and the few who remained resided in Elora and her kingdom.

A few feet away, I lifted one of my Soul Swords, hearing the metal hissing as it met the Damned’s exposed skin.

He remained unfazed by the searing of his flesh. He didn’t act like he was in pain at all. It was possible he wasn’t. In rare cases, souls in the lower circles could lose all sensation from repeated torture—so their lords would heal them just enough to make them feel again.

His wild eyes darted around, and his grin stretched wider, exposing pitch-black gums and razor-sharp teeth—teeth that matched the bite marks on the female’s skin.

“Did you kill her?” My voice darkened, pressure building behind my eyes like an impending storm.

“No. She’s my next follower,” he rasped, glancing down at her body as he ran his tongue along his teeth.

Follower?

“She’s dead,” Alexei said with disbelief.

The Damned Soul laughed, the sound ragged and wet. Black liquid flowed from his chest, staining his already ruined skin.

“Is she?”

“MJ,” I snapped, my pulse hammering against my ribs. “Check her teeth and hair.”

Every instinct screamed that I already knew what she’d find, but I fought to hold on to the sliver of hope that I was wrong.

“No change in her teeth,” MJ said slowly, “but… she’s growing horns.”

Fuck. Fuck!

How was that possible?

The Damned could infect others.

Lucifer needed to know—immediately.

“Is biting the only way you infect each other?” I squeezed the hilts of my Soul Swords. The Damned smiled, as if savoring my panic. I pressed one of my blades into his neck. “Is it? ”

“Scared your little mind invasion with Silas will have consequences, General?”

How did he know about that?

The Damned jerked up his hand, grabbing ahold of my chin. I refrained from ending him then and there—I needed answers.

Alexei snatched the Damned’s arm and slammed his dagger into his hand, pinning it to the tree trunk. MJ did the same to his other hand with an arrow.

The Damned hissed through bared teeth, but there was no pain in his face, only anger.

“Come closer, General, and find out,” he taunted, chomping at the air. A slimy pink substance leaked from the points of his teeth, sliding down his chin. Slowly, his skin blackened where the fluid touched.

Like a demonic venom.

Their maker must’ve weaponized their teeth.

“How did you get to the Redemption Circle?”

“By the time you figure it out, Hell will have fallen.”

I pressed my blade harder against his neck. “You know what this is?”

“A soul-eater, Ronen.”

A chill shot down my spine at the casual way he spoke my name.

“Then answer me.”

“Even if you trap me in your blade, it won’t stop us.” His confidence clashed with his erratic heartbeat, which vibrated against the metal of my sword.

“Who is us? ”

He didn’t respond. The silence of the forest pressed in around us. Lifting his chin in defiance, exposing more of his throat, he began humming that same soft, twisted tune.

“Tell me who,” I demanded, digging my sword in deeper. The black liquid oozing down his neck caught my eye.

It had been a couple of days since I’d ingested the Damned Soul’s blood, and I hadn’t seen any dark veins creeping beneath my skin.

Bonny couldn’t have been infected long—meaning the transition was fast. Still, the last time I drank their tainted blood, I’d puked it up hours later, my throat burning as it came out.

I knew it would make me sick again, but we needed answers.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for in my mind,” he said, noticing the direction of my gaze.

He might be right. But I sent out my shadows anyway, absorbing a single drop of the poisonous blood before the wind could stop me. It would be enough for a few questions—long enough to dig for something useful, before I’d have to risk more to hold his mind longer.

I dove into his memories, burrowing deep into his deteriorating mind. “Who do you work for?”

Fragments of figures—blurry, disjointed—flashed by. I caught glimpses of blond, black, then red hair. Tall and short shapes. But nothing substantial. Every image bled into the next before vanishing completely, too fast to make sense of.

I pushed deeper. “Where are you coming from?”

A solid black void swallowed the fragments, devouring every trace of color and shape .

“I told you.” He grinned. “You won’t find what you’re looking for inside my mind. They were prepared for you, General.” His smug expression bled into his thoughts, taunting me.

Enraged, I tore apart every neuron in his brain, savoring his sharp, ragged gasps. When I finished with him, I had two choices.

I could let MJ burn him, sending his soul back to Lucifer for a second judgment— hoping the disgusting soul would land in the Horde’s stomach, dissolving for years or centuries until he ceased to exist.

Or I could take matters into my own hands—slide my Soul Sword across his neck and condemn him to eternal agony.

Both options were brutal. One would trap his soul in the Horde’s relentless void, his existence erased when they deemed him ready to be unwritten. The other would bind him to an endless torment, his crimes remembered by those who survived him. Either way, he would suffer.

But I didn’t know which was worse—my sword or the Horde. Eternity in hopelessness… or horrific agony, followed by a permanent end, forgotten by all.

This time, I couldn’t take the chance. The Horde might spare him. Or, worse, bits of his soul might bleed into the ground, like Silas’s had. Even if Lucifer sent his soul straight to them, the Horde devoured as they saw fit.

The Damned Soul’s grin faltered, a flicker of understanding crossing his eyes. He knew.

He struggled against the arrows pinning him, jerking up and down, but never forward—like he thought he could somehow kill his own soul and recycle .

But in Hell, souls could only recycle once their bodies were destroyed by slow decay, fire, or—in the king’s case—ice.

“Enjoy agony.” I decapitated the Damned Soul.

His body turned to ash, then sifted into my swords, vanishing from sight.

“I need to report this to the king.” The air pulsed with raw energy as I summoned my wings. “Take her out of here and bring her to the dungeons. He’ll want to see this.”

“Ronen, that’s the fourth Damned this week,” Alexei said, picking up Bonny.

“I know. Keep searching. Capture any soul or blood-banded who’s infected. Only kill them if you must.”

MJ and Alexei summoned their wings. “With pleasure,” they said in unison.