Enrique, Zofia, and Hypnos were similarly trapped. Séverin alone was untouched.

Not three meters away, Ruslan came into view. He held out his golden hand, and she realized he was somehow controlling the daggers. Behind Ruslan stood six members of the Fallen House, and something was wrong with them. Their volto masks looked scorched and dented. When they moved, their gestures were too stiff. Flies buzzed around their heads.

“My, my,” said Ruslan softly. “What a wonder to behold … I suppose I should thank you for doing all the difficult bits, but it was very rude of you to try and kill me like that, Séverin! I thought we truly were friends.”

“Ruslan, I—” Séverin started to say.

“Shhh. Let me bask, first, in the threshold of my godhood. I want to remember this moment.”

As the smoke cleared, Ruslan’s face came into focus and Laila froze.

Now, half of his face shone unearthly and strange and … gold. Part of his skull was smashed in, and light glinted off the golden dent.

“Do you like my new look?” asked Ruslan, smiling.

His teeth were either chipped or missing. What remained appeared to be smeared red with blood.

“It is, admittedly, a touch gaudy,” he said, sniffing. “But it was hard to reconstruct myself after you tried to blow me up.”

“You should be dead,” growled Enrique.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” said Ruslan. “But you see … that’s the thing about my inheritance. The ‘Fallen House’ is such an ugly name. Its true one is so much better. We are and have always been House Attis.”

At the name, the gold knife in Ruslan’s hand shone. Behind Ruslan, the volto masks on the members slipped sideways revealing something sunken. Something stinking. Something far from alive. Laila’s stomach turned.

“You see, we alone had a hint of the power in the temple. We could not create new life, but we could always revive it … in some fashion.” Ruslan grinned as he gestured at the dead Fallen House members behind.

Ruslan dragged his knife across his own throat, laughing as the line bled gold instead of red. “So you see, my friends, you cannot kill me. In many ways, I’m practically dead already and it hasn’t stopped me yet.”

A shiver ran down Laila’s spine. She glanced to her right and saw Séverin staring at her, the lines around his mouth tight with worry. The moment she looked at him, the golden dagger at her breast dragged up slowly, with all the languor of a lover’s touch. It tapped beneath her chin, forcing her head up.

“Now, now, don’t be so distracted, Séverin!” Ruslan laughed.

Laila swallowed hard. The dagger did not move from its new position at her throat.

“Gold and alchemy, transformation and ichor,” said Ruslan, gesturing with a flourish of his wrist. “The use of such treasures always comes at a cost, you know.” He paused, tapping the side of his golden skull. “But I was willing to pay anything to save myself. I’m afraid the same could not be said for my men however.”