Page 62 of Reckless Witch

I tilt my head. “But none of our people have been invited into the inner sanctum.”

“Our ancestors would have been wise to have infiltrated their ranks when The Shadows attacked in the fifth century. How can the Greek gods continue to aid Damien after he cost them that war? Spiteful creatures,” she snarls. “After nine thousand years, they still hate the Atlantean pantheon and continue to sacrifice their own people for revenge.”

“I don’t think the Greek gods consider dead Margiddians to be part of their people,” I say.

She snorts. “Of course, they don’t. But many Greeks died, as well. Had we paid attention to the Zidruhin then, we would control them now, and Damien would likely be dead.”

I think she’s oversimplifying the situation, but keep that thought to myself.

“Rumors of Damien have reached Greenland. Samayaza paid me a visit.”

I look sharply at her before I can catch myself. “The fallen angel has surfaced?”

She gives a single nod. “Strange, yes?”

I don’t like this one bit. “Yes,” I admit. “What did he say?”

“That Damien believes he has located his demon bride and is no longer hiding.”

Samayaza, the fallen angel—one of the direct Sons of God—in hiding for nearly five hundred years. I curse silently. This news could have waited until we had Ciarah settled and safe.

“What does he care if Damien has found his bride?” I ask. “The world could fall for all he cares.”

She casts me a sideways glance. “I love it when you pretend to be naïve. It is so at odds with your true self.”

“Damien may find his bride, but that doesn’t mean he can open the Hell Gates,” I reply.

“Nothing is forever,” she says. “Someday, someone will break the spell and open the gates. Even Samayaza does not want that.”

The opening of the Hell Gates is something none of us are prepared for.

“We must know Damien’s plans,” she says.

“Our men are watching the Zidruhin.” A light breeze ruffles my hair as I match her sedate pace down the path.

“The strange doings at Miriam Crowe’s home are harbingers of things to come.”

I know she refers to Miriam’s connection to The Shadows and her subsequent death. Out of deference to me, however, she will not name them in my presence. Fae hurt more deeply than most when magic scars the earth. Occasionally, the Grand Witch is almost human.

“I came across a demon in her home last night,” I say.

“A demon?” she demands.

Franklin sucks in a sharp breath.

“In Miriam’s home?” she whispers.

I nod. “He has been disposed of.” I think. “Unfortunately, before I could learn his intent.”

“Highly unusual,” her assistant murmurs.

“Indeed.” Olympia halts and turns. “Franklin, see that the demon is investigated. We must find out who conjured it.”

Bloody hell, Franklin will find Stony. “Leave that to me,” I say.

“There is no need for you to waste your time on such a mundane task.”

“I wouldn’t call Miriam Crowe practicing Shadow magic mundane.”