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“I may have kept my eye on the Court of Hollows since my son’s recent ascension. And his previous one, following youruntimelydemise by his hand.” He chuckles at his play on words, and I see where Merikh does not share his father’s sense of humor. “But yes, I was preoccupied with creating my new race.” He opens his mouth, baring his fangs, and heated wrath locks up my fists and my spine. “Oooh, touched a nerve there, didn’t I, Malachor?” He flashes his fangs—stolen fangs he implanted into his own goddamned mouth. Their points shimmer at me. “Tipped them with diamonds, too.” He winks.
Much more unguarded,I confirm with Merikh.I will enjoy torturing him as I did you.
Careful, Malachor. Spawn from incest rarely works out.
I snarl. “I’ve had enough of this.”
It’s the first time Howle comes off the coffin, a sporting gleam in his eyes while he rolls up the sleeves of his trench coat. “I agree. Too much talking. Not enough screaming.”
“I think you’ll be crying.” I grin, baring my fangs.
“Before you start begging.”
I charge.
MERIKH
A little too tongue-in-cheekcompared to my darker humor, but I will admit I can appreciate my father’s style.
No, I felt nothing at the revelation, aside from a vague sense of gratitude. The longer he keeps Malachor preoccupied, the longer Quintessa has to escape. And I’ll admit, as far as excuses go for his lifelong absence, it’s a damn good one. I may have inherited his thieving skills, but he’s far better than me at subterfuge. If we make it through this by some miracle, I’ll need to ask him how he’s managed to bite a whole race into being while keeping his identity a secret.
For now, I appreciate his technique.
He’s an earth-binder. Heat brews in my veins because Malachor cannot penetrate the steel lining Howle has sealed over his skin. He can’t channel his power into the blood vessels. I recognize the god’s sheer desire is to stop Howle’s actions, put him to sleep, so he can pursue Quintessa. But my father proves to be as skilled in his form of battle as I am with mine. In some ways, he still doesn’t fight fair.
Howle moves slowly due to his steely armor, but anytime Malachor gets close, Howle knocks him back, thwarting him, bruising him. It’s almost amusing. Like watching a walking suit of armor defending himself against the God of Blood. I’ll give him additional points for style.
Unfortunately, I sense Malachor’s inner state. His seething frustration has come to a close when he remembers he inhabitsmybody now—which means he is also a water-binder. I sense the power rising...attacking the steel layer, corroding it with the intensity of the power. Breathing fury through his nostrils, Malachor needs but a few seconds to destroy an inch of steel to access the bloodstream beyond.
A few seconds more is all I need. I inhale deeply, appreciative for how long he kept Malachor busy and how the god dropped his inner defenses, thanks to my father riling him up.
If he were in his own body, he’d be no match for Howle.
If all goes according to my plan, he will also be no match for Quintessa.
Once he’s finished penetrating the steel and sending my father into a comatose state, Malachor steadies himself, tugging upon his regal robes,myrobes. With adrenaline surging through his veins and his eagerness over the hunt, Malachor advances to the crypt latch and opens it, welcoming the chaotic aromas festering in the dense air.
After kicking my father’s body out of the crypt for good measure, he chuckles darkly and locks onto a single blood scent.Mmm...smell that, Merikh? Did you truly think her floral opiate could hide among your weak wetlands with all its rotting flesh? She’s like a goddamn dark rose cutting through a mass of skunk cabbages. A ray of stardust shooting through a land of decay.
Whatever you say, Malachor,I goad him, enjoying how it irks him since I can hear him grinding his teeth in our shared consciousness.
Perhaps I will claim her tonight. I’ll have infinity to woo her, after all.
Other than clenching my jaw beyond that blood wall, I don’t respond. I bide my time because I’ll only get one chance at this.
One chance to save her.
One chance to surrender to her hand of eternal night.
32
“So help me God of Blood, beat—your—damn—heart—out!”
QUINTESSA
I fallknee-deep into the water for the third time, moaning from the squishy mud that threatens to sink my whole body.
A rotted skull floats upon the surface of the water, drifting among all the algae, lichen, and other plants growing here. My stomach churns, protesting against the disgusting scents all around me.
