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“I warned you, Dommiel,” said Jude, death in his voice.
The demon gaped, now in his human form, looking like a man except for the red eyes and canine teeth. He sucked in air, still clutching his mangled arm that was bleeding black.
“I didn’t come to hurt her! I promise,” he pleaded, sounding much less sinister than my last meeting with the lord of The Dungeon.
“I don’t care about your motives. My word is absolute.”
I hardly recognized Jude’s voice, leaking such menace that I stepped back and gripped the cold railing for support. He whipped out a razor-sharp stiletto, glinting in the streetlamp, and leaned closer to the helpless demon awaiting more punishment, defiance in his gaze.
Jude’s back was to me, but I knew darkness veiled even the whites of his eyes.
“No! Please, don’t! I have information,” he stammered, his feet scrabbling against the pavement helplessly. “I’ll give it to you. I fucking swear!”
George and Kat sifted onto the scene in a blink. George’s amiable expression had vanished behind a fierce mask, blue eyes glittering like exploding stars.
“Damn it, Jude!” shouted Kat. “I told you to take care of it!”
Seemingly unaware of either of them, Jude had gripped Dommiel by the throat, leaning forward to do something terrible, though I didn’t know what.
“He’s fallen into the Black. You take care of the demon,” ordered George, “and meet us back at Jude’s place. Come, Genevieve,” he said, holding out his hand to me.
Instantly, I obeyed. There was something in George’s voice that made me move, a promise of protection in those startling eyes. By the time I reached him, he had yanked Jude to his feet, and then we were sifting. Sifting fast. My stomach roiled as shapes streaked by in one long blur of gray. My high heels were yanked from my feet, flying into nothingness.
We reappeared on solid ground in a quiet grove of oaks. Dizzy and nauseated from the sift, I fell back against the sturdy trunk of a tree. I leaned behind it and lost the contents of my stomach. I shifted from one bare foot to the other on the cool ground.
George guided Jude to the center of the grove and thrust him to his knees. Jude didn’t protest. I could see his profile clearly. He stared down, hands at his sides, completely docile. Yet the misty shroud circled him still, whispering. George began to chant, not to Jude but out to the world itself, his arms spread wide. I couldn’t make out the words.
A gibbous moon peeked from behind the cover of clouds, filtering through the oaks strung with swaying moss, casting moving shadows around us. It felt as if the night itself were alive. Cicadas buzzed incessantly. An owl hooted nearby. Gray clouds swallowed up the humped moon once again.
Arms still raised, George’s body began to shimmer with brilliant light, then all was still and quiet. Not a sound. Not a shadow flickered. Even George’s whispered chant had died away.
Gooseflesh prickled along my skin. I’d felt this sensation before, this feeling that the world had frozen, and I was being sucked into a soundless vacuum.
My eyes darted to every shadow, waiting for wraithlike Acheron to emerge from one of them. But he didn’t.
The clouds opened, allowing the moon to reveal herself again. One beam shone through the foliage directly in front of Jude. The moonbeam brightened and brightened. Thinking I was imagining things, I gripped the rough bark of the trunk for support. The beam shimmered, morphing into a transparent shape.
George backed away, his stony expression showing a brief glimpse of revulsion before fading into passivity. My breath quickened. An eerie pulse of dread emanated from the form appearing by slow degrees.
Gossamer limbs and silken hair solidified into a creature of fearsome beauty. Floating in a gown of translucent white, the pale silhouette of a voluptuous woman’s body touched the earth before Jude.
Pearlescent arms and spidery-long fingers reached out to him. I gasped, but there was no sound. All was drowned, except for the voices hovering around Jude in the inky mist, growing louder.
Slit…slash…eviscerate…gut…devour…annihilate.
The air reeked of loathing—doubling, tripling, continuing up the scale until I crumpled to my knees. I pressed my hands to my ears, trying to block the painful swell of evil pouring from both Jude and the ghostly creature.
My Vessel power beat within my breast, pushing against the tide of hatred lapping against my body. The ghastly being, vaporous gown billowing in soft, slow curls, cradled Jude’s face in her hands, demanding that he look up at her.
He remained silent, obeying her will. White orbs narrowed into slits. Pallid lips creased into a sinister smile. I wanted to remove her hands from him but was crippled by the heavy malevolence rippling in the air. I couldn’t move. I screamed for Jude but made no sound.
Jude raised his hands, palms out, like an invitation to the creature. She wove her long, slender fingers through his, gripping him hard, pulling him to his feet and against her translucent body.
With a resounding crack, a powerful ripple hit the air. Her head snapped back. Her mouth gaped wide. The voices of vile souls inside her screamed.
Images flashed in my mind—bloody death, twisted limbs, mangled bodies. The weight of primal hatred threatened to crush me down into the soil.
The white woman inhaled the black aura surrounding Jude, sucking it into her mouth and nose like smoke through a flue.
