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Back Seven Devils
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1.
  4. 2.
  5. 3.
  6. 4.
  7. 5.
  8. 6.
  9. 7.
  10. 8.
  11. 9.
  12. 10.
  13. 11.
  14. 12.
  15. 13.
  16. 14.
  17. 15.
  18. 16.
  19. 17.
  20. 18.
  21. 19.
  22. 20.
  23. 21.
  24. 22.
  25. 23.
  26. 24.
  27. 25.
  28. 26.
  29. 27.
  30. 28.
  31. 29.
  32. 30.
  33. 31.
  34. 32.
  35. 33.
  36. 34.
  37. 35.
  38. 36.
  39. 37.
  40. 38.
  41. 39.
  42. 40.
  43. 41.
  44. 42.
  45. 43.
  46. 44.
  47. 45.
  48. 46.
  49. 47.
  50. 48.
  51. 49.
  52. 50.
  53. 51.
  54. 52.
  55. 53.
  56. 54.
  57. 55.
  58. 56.
  59. 57.
  60. EPILOGUE
  61. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  62. ABOUT THE AUTHORS

“Wish I were.” Eris buckled the holster around her waist and gestured with her fingers. “Come with me. You need to see this.”

11.

ERIS

Present day

Eris led Clo down the hallway, their footsteps quiet on the rubber floors. She knew what they were risking, staying aboard like this, but Eris was never one to give up easily. Kyla trusted her with ITI missions for one reason: because if she ever got caught, Eris had been trained never to give up her secrets. She’d die first—she’d kill first. Without hesitation.

Yet Clo wouldn’t be able to withstand the torturers. Did she know what she might face?

“We should leave,” Clo said. “You don’t even know who murdered those guards out there, and the backup generator is going to turn on soon. We need to be on our ship.”

“I know that.” Eris’s impatience sharpened her voice to a knife.

“Didn’t you take images of the cargo?”

“There was no chance.”

They passed another guard slumped on the floor. Three shots to the torso, one to the head. Military style.

Eris used to kill like that—back when her father forced her to play executioner. Clean, simple, no fuss. The Mors left barely any blood. It was so easy to forget the dead when they didn’t bleed. When she switched to her old RX blaster or her little wicked blade, it forced her to acknowledge them, take responsibility for her sacrifices.

Eris stepped over the next body. Clo flinched at the pool of blood on the floor. Eris took in the way a small blade had ripped through the gap in his uniform just above his neck. How he lay on his stomach, head to one side, with his fingers curled up as if in supplication. But he had been granted no mercy; his face was a mass of blood, torn flesh, and flecks of broken bone.

“One of yours, I take it,” Clo said, tightly.

“One of mine,” Eris confirmed, gripping her necklace.

“Doesn’t it ever affect you?” Clo made a sound in her throat.

Eris couldn’t let it. She couldn’t. When the God of Death chose his favorites, he expected them to deliver. Even though she had fled her life, her destiny, she could only deny him so long. Sher and Kyla never understood. Clo definitely did not. Killing had been bred into Eris. She’d murdered her first few siblings on the planet they’d just fled, and she’d only grown better at granting death since.

“I pray over them,” Eris replied. “I always give them last rites. That’s all I can do.”

Eris hadn’t had time to pray or hide the body before she’d heard the sizzle of Morsfire. She slid her fingertips across the scythe around her neck and thought the quiet prayer she’d whispered over him, over all of her victims.