unable to heal.
People were screaming out in the hallway. The sound settled over her slowly, taking almost a full minute to penetrate her consciousness after the haze of darkness.
Those were mortal screams. An attack.
Seizing Sallosa’s abandoned sword, Elise pressed her fist against her chest wound to stem the flow of blood and flung the apartment’s door wide open.
Gerard and his squad were cornered by members of Sallosa’s century in the hallway outside. Two were dead. Elise’s livery was smeared with cherry-red blood.
Rebellion.
Sallosa’s soldiers turned at the sound of the door opening, but before anyone could so much as look at her, Elise was smoke again. Sallosa had primarily controlled lesser demons—nothing that could fight back against her. She filled herself with their blood. She consumed their flesh. It was good, but not enough.
There was other blood in the hall. Sweeter blood.
Mortal blood.
Elise reached for the source, so very hungry, still starving for energy.
“Hey!” Gerard kicked at her as she snaked around his calf. “Watch it!”
His voice woke her up. These were her allies. She couldn’t eat them.
But they smelled so good .
She reformed into her corporeal form before the temptation could overtake her. Elise had devoured half the century in a few swift gestures, leaving the mortals standing agape. And she noticed, with no small amount of nausea, that she had sucked away the dead bodies of her guards, too.
Gerard reached for her. “Jeez, Elise, you okay?”
She looked down. Her shirt was drenched in her own blood.
The weight of consuming so many demons sickened her. She swayed on her feet. “Take me back to the Palace, Gerard,” Elise groaned. “But don’t—don’t let anyone see.”
Then she fell.
Five
NORTHGATE HAD NEVER really recovered from the fall of Shamain. The wind had been strong enough to knock over half of the buildings downtown, and there wasn’t enough scrap left to rebuild. It wasn’t the postcard town it used to be back when Abel and Rylie had first selected it as the location of their new werewolf sanctuary.
Worse, it was still occupied by the Apple. Their barricades stood strong around the statue of Bain Marshall. They’d added more fencing around the town’s perimeter, too.
They couldn’t rebuild the homes that had been lost, but they could add more fucking security to a town in the middle of mountainous nowhere that didn’t even belong to them.
Not that Abel was bitter or anything.
He shifted back into his human form just outside town, hanging back under the cover of trees. He skirted along the perimeter to watch the Apple’s patrols through the fence.
The cultists had stopped pretending to be the Union. They still drove the SUVs and carried the matte black guns, but they wore normal clothes. It was impossible to tell the difference between the Apple and the Scions. Or maybe there wasn’ta difference anymore. They’d been coexisting in Northgate for so long that the lines separating them had become awful hazy.
Abel walked along the fence until he reached the backside of St. Philomene’s Cathedral. Pretty grand name for a ramshackle old church. The cross on its spire had been blown off during the fall of Shamain, and someone had thoughtfully jammed the base into the ground so that it stood like a sign by the front door.
Closing his eyes, Abel inhaled deeply, scenting all the layered odors new and old. He could smell Isaiah, the witch that used to live in St. Philomene’s, but that was one of the old smells. Isaiah had refused to work with the Apple and returned to Dis.
Levi Riese’s smell was a lot more recent.
Abel became aware of someone joining him and knew by the scent that it was his son, Abram. In a lot of ways, Abram smelled like Seth used to, always haloed by the tang of gun oil and leather. Seemed like he had been smelling more and more like that ever since Uncle Seth kicked the bucket, too.
“Surprised to see you in
People were screaming out in the hallway. The sound settled over her slowly, taking almost a full minute to penetrate her consciousness after the haze of darkness.
Those were mortal screams. An attack.
Seizing Sallosa’s abandoned sword, Elise pressed her fist against her chest wound to stem the flow of blood and flung the apartment’s door wide open.
Gerard and his squad were cornered by members of Sallosa’s century in the hallway outside. Two were dead. Elise’s livery was smeared with cherry-red blood.
Rebellion.
Sallosa’s soldiers turned at the sound of the door opening, but before anyone could so much as look at her, Elise was smoke again. Sallosa had primarily controlled lesser demons—nothing that could fight back against her. She filled herself with their blood. She consumed their flesh. It was good, but not enough.
There was other blood in the hall. Sweeter blood.
Mortal blood.
Elise reached for the source, so very hungry, still starving for energy.
“Hey!” Gerard kicked at her as she snaked around his calf. “Watch it!”
His voice woke her up. These were her allies. She couldn’t eat them.
But they smelled so good .
She reformed into her corporeal form before the temptation could overtake her. Elise had devoured half the century in a few swift gestures, leaving the mortals standing agape. And she noticed, with no small amount of nausea, that she had sucked away the dead bodies of her guards, too.
Gerard reached for her. “Jeez, Elise, you okay?”
She looked down. Her shirt was drenched in her own blood.
The weight of consuming so many demons sickened her. She swayed on her feet. “Take me back to the Palace, Gerard,” Elise groaned. “But don’t—don’t let anyone see.”
Then she fell.
Five
NORTHGATE HAD NEVER really recovered from the fall of Shamain. The wind had been strong enough to knock over half of the buildings downtown, and there wasn’t enough scrap left to rebuild. It wasn’t the postcard town it used to be back when Abel and Rylie had first selected it as the location of their new werewolf sanctuary.
Worse, it was still occupied by the Apple. Their barricades stood strong around the statue of Bain Marshall. They’d added more fencing around the town’s perimeter, too.
They couldn’t rebuild the homes that had been lost, but they could add more fucking security to a town in the middle of mountainous nowhere that didn’t even belong to them.
Not that Abel was bitter or anything.
He shifted back into his human form just outside town, hanging back under the cover of trees. He skirted along the perimeter to watch the Apple’s patrols through the fence.
The cultists had stopped pretending to be the Union. They still drove the SUVs and carried the matte black guns, but they wore normal clothes. It was impossible to tell the difference between the Apple and the Scions. Or maybe there wasn’ta difference anymore. They’d been coexisting in Northgate for so long that the lines separating them had become awful hazy.
Abel walked along the fence until he reached the backside of St. Philomene’s Cathedral. Pretty grand name for a ramshackle old church. The cross on its spire had been blown off during the fall of Shamain, and someone had thoughtfully jammed the base into the ground so that it stood like a sign by the front door.
Closing his eyes, Abel inhaled deeply, scenting all the layered odors new and old. He could smell Isaiah, the witch that used to live in St. Philomene’s, but that was one of the old smells. Isaiah had refused to work with the Apple and returned to Dis.
Levi Riese’s smell was a lot more recent.
Abel became aware of someone joining him and knew by the scent that it was his son, Abram. In a lot of ways, Abram smelled like Seth used to, always haloed by the tang of gun oil and leather. Seemed like he had been smelling more and more like that ever since Uncle Seth kicked the bucket, too.
“Surprised to see you in
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