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A sound left my lips, more animal than mortal. I moved so quickly that he only registered it once he was on the floor, clutching his midsection with blood pooling around him.
“You saw nothing,” I hissed, tossing the wooden leg across the room. “Now, say hi to your dead wife.”
His weak laugh turned to a wet groan. I turned and left that damned place.
Nine
Samkiel
I yanked at my tie the second we were in the newsroom hallway. Vincent and Logan flanked me as we strode past the mortals. Several tried to stop us, wanting to speak to me or have me sign something. I refused to pause, avoiding everyone. With a final jerk, I managed to rip the tie off.
“I detest these. I detest the suits, the meetings, interviews, all of it.”
“Sorry, boss. I have to make you look professional and all for the rest of the world.”
“Why does everything in this world have to be so constricting?” I groaned and popped the top two buttons of my shirt. The jacket was the next to come undone. It wasn’t just the clothes. It was the spaces, the rooms, the whole damned world. I felt caged.
Vincent moved in front of me and held the door open. The sun cast a golden glow over the world, the day too beautiful in the face of the slowly building war.
“It’s just how mortals are. They need to trust and believe in you. We have to let them know that everything Kaden said is a lie. They need to feel safe.”
I only nodded. “How many more appearances?”
Logan made a face, and I knew I wouldn’t like the answer.
“About eight,” Vincent replied.
No, I did not like it. I did not want to do interviews. I wanted to find her. It had been a month since she’d killed the Vanderkais and burned their mansion. A month of silence with no answers. A month since I’d locked the world and set up new regulations for all living beings on Onuna. The world knew of monsters and gods now, and the mortals more than happily obliged.
Vincent had made several new advancements regarding the alert systems for the mortals, devices and tools to make them feel protected, but my rules still applied. No one out after nightfall, strict policies on where they went, what they did, identification for traveling, you name it. I wanted no more blood spilled in this world over my mistakes.
I needed to find her, but I had no leads. I’d hoped it would have happened sooner rather than later, yet days turned to weeks. It seemed the more I tried to restrict the world, the easier it was for her to hide. All I could do was hope that she would slip up.
The very few Otherworld creatures that remained locked below Silver City had stopped talking after a few questions. Considering the charred remains we had to dispose of, my hold on my powers was slipping. That was just one reason I had decided to leave the questioning to the others. I sighed, frustration wearing on me. I had no other Otherworld creatures to ask. She had killed those closest to her, and the ones she hadn’t gotten to had gone into hiding.
“If we leave here now, we can make it to—”
A sharp ring cut me off, and Vincent lifted his phone to his ear. His eyes met mine, then Logan’s. He nodded and told whoever was on the other end we would be there. I didn’t need to ask what they said. I heard it.
A burned hotel.
* * *
Celestials sifted through the rubble, gathering anything that might be evidence to take back to the guild. Some carried bags, while others had small devices that glowed with celestial energy, looking for anything Otherworldly.
I stepped over another charred piece of wood in the blacked hotel room. The smell of blood, ash, and death hung heavy in the air, plummeting me into memories of battlefields, war drums, and destructive flames. Cities burned to metal skeletons, buildings melted and twisted, and the same damn smell. I crouched, turning over the remains of a broken chair. What looked like pages crumbled to ash. I knew a handful of celestials and gods that could bend flame, but nothing like this.
No one like her.
“We have to call the council, Samkiel. We can’t sweep this under the rug. There are bodies here,” Vincent said, his voice harsh. I stood and wiped my hands on my pants. The room, or what was left of it, was a complete and utter disaster. The hallway and neighboring rooms seemed fine and clean. This looked as if she had lost control, anger spewing from her in a fit of rage.
“Not yet.”
Vincent scoffed, shaking his head. “Why? Because you don’t want Imogen here?”
“Vincent,” Logan said, not looking up from his search of the ash, a warning in his tone.
“The council wants to make her your advisor once more.”
