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Back Kingdom of the Wicked
Chapters (58)
  1. About the Author
  2. Title Page
  3. Imprint Page
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Map
  7. Contents
  8. Prologue
  9. One
  10. Two
  11. Three
  12. Four
  13. Five
  14. Six
  15. Seven
  16. Eight
  17. Nine
  18. Ten
  19. Eleven
  20. Twelve
  21. Thirteen
  22. Fourteen
  23. Fifteen
  24. Sixteen
  25. Seventeen
  26. Eighteen
  27. Nineteen
  28. Twenty
  29. Twenty-One
  30. Twenty-Two
  31. Twenty-Three
  32. Twenty-Four
  33. Twenty-Five
  34. Twenty-Six
  35. Twenty-Seven
  36. Twenty-Eight
  37. Twenty-Nine
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-One
  40. Thirty-Two
  41. Thirty-Three
  42. Thirty-Four
  43. Thirty-Five
  44. Thirty-Six
  45. Thirty-Seven
  46. Thirty-Eight
  47. Thirty-Nine
  48. Forty
  49. Forty-One
  50. Forty-Two
  51. Forty-Three
  52. Forty-Four
  53. Forty-Five
  54. Forty-Six
  55. Forty-Seven
  56. Forty-Eight
  57. Acknowledgments
  58. Endmatter page 1

Wrath’s growing smile was positively wicked as he glanced over my shoulder. A wet snuff near the base of my neck had me breaking an instant sweat. One hoof clattered on the cobblestones, followed by another. The ground vibrated beneath whatever had taken those two mammoth steps. A shadow fell across the table. Sweet goddess above, I so did not want to turn around.

“Whatever you do, witch, don’t run.”

Thirty-One

Thirty-One

There is no greater threat to a witch than a demon who craves her blood. Once its thirst has been provoked, it will relentlessly pursue the cause of its addiction, stopping only when the source has run dry. To ward against this dark energy, pin a sachet of dried yarrow inside your clothing during each new moon.

—Notes from the di Carlo grimoire

Wrath’s warning came a second too late. When I wasn’t focused on running for my life, I’d later wonder if it was intentional on his part. I hiked up my skirts and plunged into the twilight-colored streets, the sound of pursuit ringing all around me.

I charged down one narrow alley into the next, jumping over baskets of dried goods. I didn’t look back for fear of losing momentum. There was no way I’d end up drained of blood because curiosity got the better of me. As I dodged past closed doors and ducked under laundry lines, the clattering of cloven footsteps behind me never faltered or slowed.

I wasn’t just terrified for myself, I worried about any unsuspecting human unfortunate enough to be in my path as I led a hungry demon through the cramped quarters. I almost stumbled as reality crashed into me. A demon was chasing me through the streets of my city. Somehow it had breached the gates of Hell. And, if this was only the beginning . . . I couldn’t finish the thought.

I knocked into an empty barrel, and threw it in the beast’s path. My netherworldly attacker halted for all of a second before wood shattered. Not good. My witch blood gave me a little more strength than a human, but the creature tore through the barrel like paper.

My foot caught in a cobblestone, and I couldn’t stop morbid curiosity from taking over as I caught myself against a building and tossed a glance over my shoulder. I was ready to freeze from unrelenting horror as Death cornered me, its maw open wide, ready to devour me bones and all, but nothing was there. I warily glanced around. No demon lurked behind fluttering clothing. No wet-nosed snuffs broke the silence. The complete and utter unnatural silence.

Blood and bones.