Chapters (46)
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
So the rumors about the Demon Riders were wrong. They didn’t find cats and raise them as their children, as people had whispered at The Drunken Dog. They were the cats. The Demon Riders were shape-shifters, Brendel’s felbeasts come to life. The stories had some truth to them after all.
Kyra’s mind raced as pieces fell into place. She thought back to the marketplace raid, at how intelligently the demon cats had behaved. Then there was her trip to the forest. Before the fire, she’d spied a line of Demon Riders walking to the city, but once Kyra and Tristam arrived at Forge, they’d only found cats. And Tristam had never been able to find humans camping in these forests….
“What are you?” Kyra whispered.
Beside her, the cat woman retied her tunic. “Answer me first. Where are you from? Who sired you?”
“Who sired me?” Kyra said, shrinking away. “I’m an orphan.”
“You were raised by humans, then.”
“What?”
The cat woman stepped back again, shaking her head in disbelief. She raised her hand to her mouth and sank her teeth into her own palm. Kyra gasped. When the woman held out her hand again, it was dotted with specks of blood.
“Smell it.”
Kyra flinched away, but the woman kept her hand in front of Kyra’s face. It smelled like blood. Too much like the stuff of her nightmares for comfort. Obviously frustrated by Kyra’s blank expression, the woman scooped up Kyra’s bloody bandages and thrust them under her nose.
“Can you not tell? Even in your skin, you can smell our blood.”
Kyra noticed it then. There was a common element, a musky smell that made her think of long hunts through the forest.
No, that was just her imagination running wild. For all she knew, everybody’s blood smelled like that.
Seeing Kyra’s expression, the woman pulled back. “Our blood runs through your veins. What is your name?”
“Kyra.” The word came out through numb lips.
The woman knelt down and took Kyra’s hands. “Kyra. My name is Pashla,” she said. “I, like you, am a daughter of the Makvani.”
Thirty
T H I R T Y
Kyra pulled her hand back, lightly at first, then with increasing insistence until she wrenched her hand away.
“No, you’re wrong.”
Once again, Kyra saw the demon cats chasing down their victims. She heard the wounded moaning in the street.
Pashla reached for her again, but Kyra pushed the woman away. “Stay away from me.” Kyra struggled to sit up, barely aware of Pashla’s protests and the pain arcing down her torso. Who were these monsters? Kyra gritted her teeth and tried again. She needed to leave.
A slap across her face stopped her short. Kyra slumped back, peering at Pashla through watery eyes, terrified that the woman would change shape again.