Monsters. Frankenstein. The monsters chasing Isaac. And how he’d always felt about himself.

Amelie came to where Isaac stared absently out the window, and she looked past him. “What is that?” she whispered, pointing upward. “What is that?” She turned to Isaac. “Didn’t you say upstairs that you thought you saw a dragon?”

CHAPTER 40

Moloch

Moloch sits astride Wyvern as the dragon moves from treetop to treetop in this forest, his dragon wings stretched wide for balance. The trees sway with the storm that Moloch knows is not a natural storm but born out of primitive magic that resides inside the forest.

Primitive magic. Moloch knows—all fae know—there are older and more mysterious magics than even the fae. Magics that come out of the earth, from the burns and rills, from the stones and sea, from lichen and moss, magics that are older than anything that breathes. These magics were born when the universe was nothing but fiery-hot gas spinning in the void. These ancient magics are greater than any magic he or any other fae can perform—with or without artifacts—and Moloch bows to their power.

But he can use them, he thinks, and smiles his broken smile. He just has to find the right way.

Wyvern spits fire into the sleet that pelts him as Moloch takes a survey of the crumbling castle.

He feels the wards in the walls, but he’s sensing weakness in them. That primitive magic has breached the wards.

Moloch leaves Wyvern and circles the castle, searching. He pushes through the thorny brambles and clinging vines until he finds what he’s looking for.

There.

A small door lies ajar. It creaks, and Moloch steps into a tight hallway.

He waits for his eye to adjust to the darkness.

For a human, it would be a ghastly sight. For Moloch of the Unseelie fae, it is of interest. A horrific mechanical creature that might have once been human has cornered a small, cowering boy and a dog that barks and bares its teeth. The creature turns her peculiar head to stare at Moloch. She’s soaked from being outside in the storm, and her hands are fearsome pincers. She’s accompanied by a dire wolf.

She stretches the pincers toward Moloch, but with a simple wave of his hand, he freezes the creature and her dire wolf. The boy cries and calls out a name. Mumble. Or Crumble. The boy sees Moloch then and his eyes go wide and even more fearful, and he starts to back away. Moloch freezes him and his dog as well.

Moloch can sense that neither this small boy nor this mechanical creature is the Guardian.

What Moloch does next involves the simplest of the fae skills. Any faerie child could perform this trick. It is not entirely without risks, and it saps magic, making other ordinary tricks impossible. Still. Moloch can use this trick to spy.