I’m taking back what was once mine.
A sharp pain seared into Angela’s palm. Troy’s chain snapped and flew to the left, landing in the leaves. She opened her hand, amazed and vaguely terrified to find the Eye fusing into her skin. Her flesh opened and enclosed around it like a new kind of eyelid, and yet as it settled there, becoming part of her whether she wished it to or not, her fear faded into a grim resolve that flowed throughout her entire frame. When she looked at Tileaf again, the Fae had closed her eyes, like a child waiting for her mother’s goodnight kiss.
“I knew it,” Tileaf whispered. “It didn’t seem possible . . . but you—you—”
You’ve been suffering for so long.
Angela stood over her, clenching her fingers into the stone. Its surface ruptured under her nails, and she sensed, rather than saw, the blood warming her fingers.
But now I know exactly how to help you.
She felt the blood harden into a knife.
Then, for Tileaf, it was the end.
Thirty-four
Before my eyes, the Abyss.
In my ears, the howl of despair.
My kingdom is now my prison.
—THE SUPERNAL LUCIFEL, A Collection of Angelic Lore
Weight.
Kim couldn’t breathe, and it felt like his chest was being crushed.
He opened his eyes to the morning grayness, only half surprised to see Stephanie straddling him, one of her thin hands pressed up against his throat. But the moment his eyelids had spread apart, her fingers relaxed, and she pushed back the hairs near his cheeks as if that had been her aim all along.
How in God’s name had she come back after what she’d done and where she’d gone?
And the look in her eyes—Stephanie’s face was indefinably disturbing, like a mask. She stared back at him in an odd, expressionless way—even for a person who killed like it was routine. Now it seemed entirely plausible for her to attack Israfel and escape unscathed.
Otherwise, she was gorgeous as always, her crimson eye shadow finely powdered beneath her brows, her legs still long and soft. Instead of her own overcoat, she wore one of his long novice coats that fell to the ankles, and its black buttons gleamed beneath the candelabra’s flames.
The sight was unusual enough to make him pause.
He spoke slowly, hoping his voice wouldn’t reveal anything. She’d seen him with Angela again, and in the world of their sham relationship, that was certainly a good reason for murder. “Shouldn’t you be dead?”
Fury chattered at the sound of his voice. The crow bounced below the window frame, peering inside. Quickly, she soared back out into the gathering darkness.
“Good morning to you too.” Stephanie leaned down to kiss him.
Oh no. That wasn’t right at all.
He pushed her away, sitting up in bed so that she slid closer to his knees.
Stephanie pressed against his bare chest, stroking the skin with her cold fingertips. “Kim, I want to give you another chance. I want you and me to be together in this.”
“You mean in this relationship?”
That wasn’t right either.
He grabbed her by the thighs, careful not to act too unnerved. She was lethal now, and if Israfel had received a flesh wound, Kim would probably suffer worse. “Get off me.”
Stephanie fought to stay put, but then he succeeded in tossing her to the other side of the bed, and her ponytail swung behind her like a rope, smacking into the wall. She breathed hard, but continued analyzing him with her eyes, as if gauging how best to tempt him again. Even the blush on her face could have been a well-thought-out lie.
“How did you even get in here?” Kim could have sworn he’d locked the door before going to sleep.
“Well, let’s just say not all the novices think the archbishop’s death was a bad idea.” Stephanie crawled back to him, her arms wrapping possessively around his neck. “I could have killed you too, you know. But I didn’t.”
Her fingers trailed down to his stomach, full of suggestion.
Footsteps traveled up and down the hallway outside of his room. Soft whispers followed them, murmurs, the creak of his door as someone listened outside. The seminarian dormitory was far more alive than Kim had thought it would be. Stephanie must have been right—not everyone was against the idea of her lording over a good portion of Luz, especially the novices, priests, and various people who would benefit from her witchcraft. But that still didn’t completely explain how she’d found another key to his room.
“So where did murdering me factor into your sudden feelings?”
He left the bed, picking up the clothes he’d folded near the base of his closet. He needed to behave like this, as if nothing could possibly be different about her. Because if Kim betrayed a hint of suspicion or fear, he was certain he’d pay for it. It was a subtle and deadly game to play. Luckily for Kim, Troy had given him plenty of opportunity for practice over the years.