Half the Blood. If Sadi had struck again…

But after the ripples had finally passed, there had been no sign of Daemon Sadi.

And no one knew what had become of Greer.

10 / Terreille

Surreal sat with her back against the headboard, sipping from the whiskey bottle she hugged to her chest.

She and Deje had spent the past few hours looking after the other girls, sedating those who needed it, letting the rest get blistering drunk. Deje, her face gray with the strain, had gratefully let Surreal take care of the bodies. Fortunately there weren’t many, the day after the Winsol holidays always being a slow time for Red Moon houses. Even so, she’d had to bundle them up in blankets before even the brawniest of Deje’s male staff would enter the rooms and lug the bodies out.

Everyone, including herself, stank of fear.

But he was, after all, the Sadist.

It would have been worse, she told herself as she continued to sip the whiskey. It would have been much, much worse, if Jaenelle hadn’t shouted that warning to ride it out. Funny. Every witch in Deje’s house who wore a Jewel heard that warning and knew on some instinctive level what it meant. The men…There wasn’t time for Jaenelle to be selective. Some heard her, some didn’t. That’s all there was to it. Those who didn’t were dead.

What had happened to send him into such a rage? What sort of danger could have provoked that kind of unleashing?

Maybe the question to ask was, who was in danger?

Calmed by her own rising anger, Surreal set the whiskey bottle on the nightstand and called in a small leather rectangle. As soon as she was done, she’d get a little sleep. It was unlikely that anything would happen before tonight. The Sadist had seen to that, whether he’d meant to or not.

With her lips curved in the slightest of smiles, Surreal hummed softly as she slipped the whetstone out of its leather pouch and began sharpening her knives.

11 / Terreille

Dorothea watched the flames in the fireplace dance. Any moment now, the Dark Priestess would arrive at the old Sanctuary. Then she could give the bitch the message and return home.

Who would have thought he could break a Ring of Obedience? Who would have thought, with him being on the other side of the Realm, shattering the Ring could…

How very fortunate that she’d started letting each of the young witches in her coven wear the primary controlling ring for a day, letting them “get the feel” of handling a powerful male, even if he was so far away they couldn’t really feel anything at all. How very unfortunate her favorite witch, her little prize who had shown so much potential, had been the one wearing it today.

Since the body, although empty of the witch herself, still lived, she would have to keep it around for a little while so the others wouldn’t realize how disposable they really were. A month or two would be enough. The witch would, of course, be buried with dignity, with full honors commensurate with her Jewels and social rank.