Yezekael hovered at the edge of his lair.

Mela and I crouched side by side, absolutely still and barely breathing. My friend touched the golden necklace briefly at her throat, almost as a form of reassurance, before her other hand tightened on the coiled chain and cuffs that hummed faintly with magic. I gripped Leviathan Spinebender, the whip Zrenyth had forged to assist with taming wyrms. Weeks ago, I'd run my hands along the braided lash, mentally commanding it to shorten its length and calm the wavering shadows and sizzling dark energy so it couldn't be detected. And now, I held onto Leviathan's long knotted handle, its lash neatly looped and tucked in beneath my fingers. Every muscle in my body was locked taut, ready to spring forward.

The Văduvas had carefully drilled through the rock face right through to where Yezekael's lair was located and using a portion of the rubble and dust they'd artfully created a fake wall. It was a thin veneer with the barest smattering of magic infusing the mineral. A cursed net was set into the high ceiling of the den and hidden as the hide had been with rubble from the lair. It was blended so cleverly, that even I could barely see the tiny writhing tentacles that formed the net.

The hide acted much like a two-way mirror. Though darkness folded around Yezekael's figure like the drapery of midnight, I could see him clearly. He cocked his head, an appropriate birdlike movement for a birdlike creature. The lesser creature's face was male and human but long like a stretched droplet of water. Eyes in the shape of a crescent moon blinked slowly and then narrowed. Right now his pupils were fully blown like the eyes of a nocturnal predator, leaving the irises as a thin band of brown while he scanned his lair. His gaze drifted across the fake wall where we hid behind it in the shadows. For one heartbeat, one irrational moment, his line of sight seemed to spear right through the thin veneer to lock on me.

Shock speared through my ribcage.

Surely he can't see me?

My fingertips felt as if they'd gone numb as I adjusted my grip on the Leviathan's leather handle while I waited for the creature to spin around and flee.

But Yezekael's gaze swept onward. He lifted the hand holding the neck of a thread-worn sack. From the faint sound of metallic chinking coming from the swaying bag, he'd obviously collected a haul of new trinkets. Bracing the heel of his palm on the edge of the secret entrance to his lair, not much more than a narrow gap cleaved into rock, he leaned in, stretching his neck long, and took a deep sniff through a large hooked nose, trying to figure out what was wrong with his nest.

My gut had tangled into knots the moment he'd hesitated entering his lair, and now the knots snagged tight. I shared a grim look with Mela's, Second-In-Command, Petra. She squatted on the other side of me, poised on the balls of her feet, one hand raised and fisted, signaling to our team to hold position.

I had no idea what had sown unease in Yezekael. There'd been a fair bit of work the Văduvas had done within the nest to set the trap, and like me, they'd masked their human scent by rubbing the grit of catacomb litter onto their bodies. Perhaps they hadn't masked their presence well enough. Or perhaps the creature was just overly suspicious in nature. After all, he'd managed to successfully evade Sirro for years.

Yezekael pulled back to remain lingering outside his nest.

The Uzrek had been slinking in and out of my mind since I'd entered the hide. While I kept my eye on the lesser creature, I asked my next question—Why hasn't Sirro caught Yezekael himself? The lesser creature was tall with long limbs and a wiry build. His pale ashen skin had a coat of downy gray plumage that began partway down his lower chest. Leathery wings edged in scarlet feathers were tucked close into his sides, but one hung limply and its tip dragged on the ground as if the wing had been broken and healed wrong. Yezekael was a lesser creature and would never outmatch Sirro in dark power, let alone a fistfight.

Sirro doesn't like to come down here—the Uzrek replied.

Why?

Because he doesn't want me poking around in his head and learning all of his secrets.

Which was something I was painfully aware of. The moment you looked directly into the Uzrek's blind eyes, a connection was made, and it could sift through your mind and memories as easily as kicking a pile of dead leaves. I shifted minutely, easing a crick in my neck, and mentally shot back—I bet he fucking doesn't. The Horned God was notorious for his secrecy and legion of agendas.

Exactly—the Uzrek chuckled.

Yezekael shifted a leg forward and placed a foot on the rutted ground inside his nest. His feet were shaped like ours but the soles were heavily calloused like the paw pad of a dog's, the toes ending like bird claws. The creature was a magpie in nature. Besides the sack he clutched in one hand, strung across his chest were leather harnesses with bulging pouches filled with who-the-fuck-knows. It reminded me of the Horned Gods who were deemed Witches and how they strapped oddities and rarities to their bodies.

Anticipation fizzed through my bloodstream.

Come on...just step the fuck inside.

We needed the creature inside his nest so we could block the entranceway and trap him. But he was frozen half-in half-out of his lair.

Petra held her fist steady, ready to give the order to strike.

Yezekael's posture visibly relaxed. He lifted a hand to his mouth. Long, thin fingers clutched something fleshy. Sharp teeth tore a bite from a human ear, and the lesser creature chewed on the gristly flesh as he ducked inside the lair. He strode deeper into the large space and with each footstep he grew in confidence as he neared the new nest built from woven branches and shattered bones.

I felt Petra give the order rather than see it. A gentle breath of air brushed up against my senses as she gave a series of rapid hand signals.

It happened fast and efficiently.

A loud cacophony of noise erupted as we all shoved forward—

The crack of weapons and shields ignited—

Red-hot magic exploded at the corner of the hide, erupting with a burst of energy. The dark power sizzled swiftly across the fake wall and ceiling in a spiderwebbed pattern.

The hide vapourised—

The cursed net dropped from the ceiling—

Ensnaring Yezekael.

The team of Văduvas and Crowthers surged out to block the entranceway to the lair, adjusting their stance and locking shields of hardened air together like riot police.

A scream of fright. A bellow of outrage.

Yezekael staggered as he struggled to free himself from the net that draped over his body. I sprung forward, releasing Leviathan's lash. The slender line of misty shadows flicked back, rippling like a ribbon as I slashed my arm forward—

Infused with magic, the lash sliced overhead—

I wasn't aiming for Yezekael, but for the bitter end of the rope at the bottom of the net that danced upon the pitted-stone ground. The tip of the lash seized the rope's end in an iron grip. I jerked my arm back, making it soar toward me. Snatching hold, I swiveled sideways and wrenched hard.

As I planted my feet, digging in and hauling the rope, hand over hand, the sleeve bunched and narrowed into a bottle-neck around Yezekael's feet.

It was a simple trap and a simple method to ensnare the creature. It worked much like a drawstring and he was jerked off his feet.

He slammed backward, landing on his wings, loosening a scream. With a quick yank, the bottom of the net bunched together like a fishing trawler scooping up a net full of flapping sardines.

Even down, Yezekael fought and kicked out at the net, trying to free himself. The cursed netting writhed as if it were alive and indeed in some way, it was. Tiny black tendrils formed its fibers and they stretched and wavered like a sea anemone, sticking to his downy feathers, creeping and crawling to tighten their hold.

I could taste Yezekael's panic, his desperation to seek escape. His eyes were round with trepidation as accepted defeat and ceased his struggling.

My knees sagged a little, as elation bubbled through my veins like a spritzer spiked with moonshine. I shot a holy fuck look at Mela, who returned it. We'd finally caught the lesser creature for Sirro.

Waving for the relay team to approach I clapped a hand on the guy's shoulder, leveling a look of urgency at him. "Get a message topside to be passed on. We've caught Yezekael. We're bringing him in." He gave a determined nod. His partner had palmed daggers and I pointed a finger at her. "Go with him. Protect his back." Her returning grin was wide and slightly vicious, reminding me very much of Petra. A second later they were spinning around, launching into a sprint, and disappearing into the catacombs.

I wiped my forearm over my sweaty forehead, smearing the grime and dirt I'd rubbed over my body to disguise my human scent with the action. I dragged in a deep breath of stale air as I bent down and snatched up my whip.

Shards of broken bones crunched underfoot as I approached Yezekael. The nest was loud with organized chaos, the quick orders barked by my Second-In-Command, Jiao Zhang, and Petra too. Hardened air shields were shut down and the cylinder handles tucked away.

Mela and I took either side of Yezekael and lifted him back to his feet. He stood awkwardly, the netting writhing all over him. He was tall, not as tall as Florin, but I still had to crane my neck back a bit.

Petra closed in on the lesser creature.

Mela gripped chains, while Petra held cuffs.

The cuffs she held onto sparkled with a whitish glow that washed up the front of her armor to light up the underside of her chin. The cuffs, like everything else weapon-wise, were a product from House Simonis and laced with magic. We were going to bind Yezekael's wrists, pin his wings, and hobble him by the ankles. Once that was done, it was going to be a long hike back up to the subway maintenance corridors.

"Who are you? From which House do you serve?" Yezekael asked, his voice gritty like sand rubbed over metal.

Petra flashed a wicked grin full of teeth. "Văduva."

"What do you want with me?"

Petra cocked an eye pointedly at me and Yezekael twisted his head to look my way. I peered at him between the holes in the netting. "Nothing," I answered, coiling the lash up and looping Leviathan Spinebender over my shoulders to sit alongside my bandoleer. "It's not us who wants you, it's Sirro."

"Sirro. Always getting the Children of the Houses to do his bidding for him," he sneered. His tone then changed and became softer, tempting. "I have many strange and rare items I could trade for my freedom. Name your price."

I snatched one of my wyrmbone daggers free from its sheath and spun it around by the tips of my fingers. "Yeah, no thanks." I certainly wasn't going to betray Sirro. The Horned God had a way of finding things out. And besides, I was curious as to why he wanted Yezekael. I was hoping I'd find out why when I handed the lesser creature over to him. While Mela tossed the coiled chains at Petra, the metal links rattling and chinking as she caught it with one hand, I grabbed hold of the netting intending to slice it open so Petra could cuff his wrists. The creature bowed his head to stare intently down at me. I stilled. A cold sensation trickled through my veins, chilling my blood when I met his sinister stare. I sure as fuck didn't like the smugness tugging at its wide fat lips.

The creature whispered, "Do you think something like this flimsy net can keep me bound? The silly chains and cuffs too?"

I realized he was holding onto something. I peeked through a gap in the netting. In the palm of his hand were two gray stones, seemingly dull and ordinary, but at the brush of my senses I recoiled in horror, bellowing, "FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

Yezekael squeezed his palm and the stones rolled toward one another.

It was the barest touch. The faintest clink of stone on stone. A trigger.

The ceiling overhead detonated in an almighty BOOM!

The lair shook with a violent quake—

An explosion of dark magic shattered rock—

The blast force ricocheted outward, throwing everyone off their feet. I landed with an oomph, slamming against harsh stone, pain stabbing my shoulder.

Heavy chunks of rock rained down. Stone sprayed like wild gunfire.

I threw my arms over my head, rolling over to protect myself.

The explosion was so deafening that the surrounding noises became distorted as if I were swimming underwater. The muffled sound of startled cries and the bleating of wounded were warped around plummeting rock striking the jagged floor.

Dust plumed like an octopus's ink cloud.

My lungs instantly seized and my chest convulsed with a wracking cough. I struggled to draw in a breath of fresh air.

Shit, shit, shit...

Stunned and off-balance, I shook my head free of the dizziness. My eyeballs stung and I blinked rapidly against the gritty sensation, waving a hand through the dirty clouds as I sluggishly pushed to my feet. I surveyed the lair quickly through the filmy air. Dusty and grimy team members were rising from where they'd fallen, shaking off rubble and coughing. One man had his leg pinned beneath a boulder. Petra knelt beside him, already shoving down on a sword she'd levered beneath the rock, yelling for a medic.

Yezekael...?

I twisted my torso around. It was too late. In a whoosh of magic, the net that trapped Yezekael incinerated like it was dried grass. His fingers wrenched at the remaining scraps of cursed magic, hurling them from his figure. Freed, he bounded toward where his nest had once been and was now crushed beneath a craggy pile of rockfall. In a few leaps, he'd ascended to the top of the rockpile. Sweeping down into a crouch on those strange birdlike legs, he shot me a sly grin, before taut muscle and tendons were released and he sprung upward. His leathery wings snapped wide and beat downward to propel himself upward to soar through the gaping hole in the roof of the lair.

Hellsgate.

In a blink, he was gone.

Your prey's escaping, Death-dealer.

I fucking know!—I mentally spat back at the Uzrek who seemed to relish in stating the fucking obvious. Like hells I was going to face Sirro without the lesser creature he'd sent me on a mission to hunt.

My hearing adjusted and my mind raced through the options available to me. I had to do something. Anything. Debris was everywhere. Men and women had rallied and were helping those wounded or pinned beneath hefty chunks of rock. Orders were being bellowed by Jiao. A cacophony of voices bounced off the walls, but there was one I honed in on quickly that had me pushing out a pent-breath in relief. "GRAY!"

I spun around.

My friend was all authority. Mela was covered in dust and blood drizzled from a nasty gash in her temple. She scrambled up the rockfall right below the escape tunnel Yezekael had blasted open. "Up there, Gray!" She pointed to the dark gap in the ceiling. She squatted, lacing her fingers together. "Go catch him. I'll come find you!"

"Don't you dare!" Jiao roared, overhearing my friend and swiveling my way. His nostrils flared and his stern features grooved into denial. "You don't make a move without one of us by your side!"

I hesitated.

Mela roared. "NOW GRAY!"

Fuck! My fingers tightened on the hilt of my dagger, and I ripped its twin from the sheath strapped to my thigh. "I'm sorry, Jiao! I'm going after Yezekael!"

I shoved forward, chewing through the distance in long strides, pushing faster, my mind calculating my next footing as I leaped up the pile of rubble, and used the momentum like a springboard when I placed my boot in the cradle of Mela's laced hands.

She grunted, the sound of her exertion rumbling from her chest and ending in a roar.

Launching upright, she used my motion to lift and propel me higher—

Our combined speed and power had me cutting through the air—

Right up into the hole in the roof.