My memory came rushing back in fragments, a mess of confusing moments and thoughts and images from the time I'd stayed at the Szarvases as a kid, ten years old, and falling head over heels for a spoiled daughter.

A young girl in a servant's uniform had pitched over where the edge of the lawn met the graveled ground. Her exposed skin, grazed by small, sharp stones, had been scraped raw and bleeding. At the time I was annoyed and fucked off because she'd disturbed my pursuit of Irma.

My fingers had wrapped around her arms and I'd rolled her onto her back. She'd been a few years younger than me, dirty and sweaty with sharp cheekbones. Her shoes were muddy, and there were leaves stuck in her hair as well as spider webs that crossed her shoulders.

Guilt churned through me. Sirro was right, I should feel ashamed that I'd never remembered Tabitha. As a kid, I had been too consumed with eagerness to hunt the beast that had killed her mother to bother about the actual girl herself. To me, a son of a Lower House, she was merely a servant, no one of consequence. Yet, as I opened my eyes to face Sirro's rebuking expression, Tabitha had been, and still was, someone of importance.

"Do you remember her now?" Sirro asked, a sharp edge to his tone as well as gleaming in his golden eyes.

"It was a long time ago," I replied, my voice rough and hoarse. I hadn't recognized Tabitha as the older version of her younger self, because at the time I'd dismissed the girl's worth, and immediately demanded to go along with the Szarvas's hunting party to search for her missing mother.

Gods, I was a fucking asshole.

Sirro pushed into motion, his Familiar matching his footsteps in her high heels. My leggy stride easily caught up with the Horned God and bypassed him to reach the iron gates. The hinges creaked as I opened it up, allowing Sirro to go first before following, shutting the gate behind me with a heavy clank.

As we continued down the path and neared the front of the mansion, noises could be heard coming from the driveway—the purr of engines, footfall and voices, car doors shutting, and trunks popping open.

"From what I remember, the Szarvases tracked the beast's scent from the lawn back into the forest. It seemed it had been hunting Miss Catt, trying to run her down as she fled back home, but in the ever-expanding tree line, the Szarvases lost all trace of the beast—a lesser creature they assumed." And at the time, I'd been inclined to believe them.

The next morning, just as dawn rose, I'd stolen out myself, armed with blades. I'd suspected that the beast had traveled from tree to tree, but an early morning shower had washed away all trace of any scent that might have lingered.

I'd put my Crowther preternatural hunting talents to use and after a few hours, I'd found a clearing. There'd been scuffing amongst the leaf-littered forest floor, broken trees and branches, an indentation where a young girl had lain amongst pine needles, but no sign whatsoever of Asta Catt.

Two lesser creatures—I was sure of it—had fought in the clearing, I presumed over which one of them was going to eat Tabitha.

Entering the Hemmlok Forest was the same as a mortal walking into bear territory—you entered at your own risk. As a lesser creature, we could hunt it, but whatever it was had deftly avoided being tracked.

When I later returned to the Szarvas mansion, the servant girl was gone. She'd been delivered to her aunt's care at the Deniauds' and like a self-absorbed prick, I hadn't given her another thought.

I couldn't quite wrap my head around it all. I'd met Tabitha 14 years ago and neither of us had recognized the other. Tabitha hadn't because she'd lost her memory. And me, I'd had my head so far up my entitled ass and chasing Irma, someone that I should never have invested myself in, I'd paid no mind to a servant girl.

And now what?

And now here we were, years later, and I was smitten with a girl who'd lost her memory and her mother, possessed unnatural healing, owned one of Zrenyth's daggers, and had stolen a Wychthorn Princess's hair.

Who the hells was Tabitha Catt?

I unconsciously drew to a slow halt as I pushed back through my memories, rifling through that moment with Tabitha, both of us children.

I'd almost flinched when I'd put my hands on Tabitha's arms to turn her over. Her skin was icy-cold and I'd gazed down into a young girl's grimy face, lined with grief. She was desperately trying to choke out something but couldn't.

Big expressive eyes, the color of the ocean with a band of blue, swallowed up her features because the face I stared into was sharply angular and hollow-cheeked.

She'd seemed on the verge of becoming gaunt as if she'd been denied food...

"Neglected..." I murmured to myself in shock, my eyebrows drawing together because that was the first thought that came to mind.

Had someone been mistreating her?

Sirro stood beside me and his polished voice broke through my worried thoughts. "Yes, she did seem that way. I saw the child only briefly, curious to see for myself after hearing from the Deniauds what had happened out there in the Hemmlok Forest and who they'd taken in. I didn't get to meet her aunt, she'd gone back to the Szarvases to collect her niece's personal belongings. And Tabitha wouldn't come out from beneath the bed to speak with me. I caught just a glimpse of slitted eyes, a striking color of sea green I've never forgotten."

"She must have been terrified if she knew no one, not even herself," I replied, trying to understand what it must have been like for her. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose my memories so completely and be left with nothing but my own name.

"Brave—is what I thought at the time," Sirro murmured as I glanced at him sidelong. He rubbed the tips of his curled fingers back and forth over his neatly bearded chin. "She was wary and afraid, but there was willful iron in the gaze that held mine." I chewed back the smile that wanted to curve my mouth as I twisted around to face Sirro. Tabitha was made from fire to hold the gaze of a Horned God.

Sirro's dark brows slanted over eyes gone more bronze and burning with a dark feeling. "However, I saw what she looked like within the shadows beneath the bed when she drew into a ball to hide from me." His hardened gaze cut to mine. "Too thin."

"Her mother did that to her?"

His hand dropped away to slide into his pocket as his gaze slid away to the end of the pebbled path where it met cobblestones. "The Szarvas servants were in conflict and there were many opinions bandied about. Some said that Tabitha was a picky eater and it was hard to get her to eat anything. Or that she hadn't been well and was recovering from an illness." He heaved a humming sigh and added pointedly, "And others weren't so sure about her mother..."

Anger tasted bitter on my tongue at the thought her mother could do that to her own child. "Besides her aunt, did she have any other family?"

He shook his head. "Only her aunt. She took her in, cared for her, and raised her here at the Deniauds'."

Sirro suddenly pivoted around to fully face me, blades of grass still clung to the side of his burgundy shoes. His tone changed and became more clipped and business-like. He redirected the conversation in such a completely different line of thought that it jarred me and I had to take a moment to process it. "I need you to go to that hole in the ground I spoke of last night—today," he said.

Hang on—back the fuck up.

I frowned. Last night he'd kind of made a big deal out of going a few days later, and now he wanted me to find it today.

"You said not to go tonight, to go in a few days' time." He'd made it sound dangerous to go tonight. He'd been gazing into the sky too... At the moon perhaps, or at Mrysst?

"Time is of the essence, Varen. It'll take you a while to find the crevasse within the outcropping of rocks, and I need you to report back to me what you find."

He began walking once more and I hurried to catch up. We stepped onto cobblestones and followed the narrow path that rounded the faux tower edged with roses and lavender and sphere-shaped topiary and came upon the circular driveway. The area was busy with servants and heirs. Yveta Troelsen looked a bit dazed as she was assisted into her family's town car. Some were leaving the Deniauds with relief, others shrouded in grief.

When those there realized who had entered their midst, they turned to face the Horned God, but Sirro quickly waved his hand, silently indicating those there not to bow, and they returned to their activity, though going a little bit quieter about it.

Sirro headed straight for his limousine where his driver awaited him. Sunlight struck off the glossy black exterior as the driver opened the passenger door. "I'm leaving right now to fly out and have a meeting with a few of my brethren. I need to speak with them and they don't come out from their lairs very often. I'll be within cell phone range only until tomorrow morning. After that, we won't be able to contact one another until I return to Ascendria, and I have no idea how long I'll be away for."

He took the hand of his Familiar and held it as she ducked into the interior to seat herself on plush leather seating.

"Take your sister with you too." He shot me a glare, knowing I was going to say no. "And that is an order."

"Why? Surely I can do this alone."

"To keep an eye on you." My mouth parted as I began to bark out a protest when he cut me off. "Whatever you want vengeance on, Varen, it's not a good idea to go looking for it in the Heart of the Forest. Valarie will keep you grounded and your mind on the task at hand. I need to find out that the lingering afterlife is still down there." His jaw flexed and his gaze became razor-edged when he warned, "Be careful because if there is something still present and self-aware in the bowels of the crevasse, it will be stronger on a full moon."

"Tonight's a full moon." And now it seemed it was the very reason why he'd directed me to do this later.

"It would be best if you can do this today, before nightfall." At my wary glance, he wagged his eyebrows, one side of his mouth tipping up. "I'm sure you'll be fine. After all, you are a Crowther."

"What should be down in that hole?"

Sirro braced a hand on the rim of the limousine's car roof. His nostrils flared and his eyes thinned as he went somewhere else inside his head. Otherworldly threads of power reacted instantly, rippling and vibrating around his tense form like a nightmare. There was something sinister and guarded lurking in the depth of his eyes that had darkened to a dull bronze, and it sent an uneasy chill shuddering down my spine. Suddenly his gaze sharpened and he answered in a low, harsh voice, "The remains of something I never want to face again—the Kinslayer."

The Kinslayer—a name I'd never heard before.

He shifted his body slightly to gaze thoughtfully up at the front facade of the mansion while he tapped a fingertip upon the metal roof of the limousine. "Whatever that scent was back there in the garden..." he shook his head as his eyes widened and lightened to gold and met mine. "I'm not sure what it is... If the two of them are even connected..."

"If they are?"

"We're in trouble." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "Well, maybe not we. My kind are the ones in trouble. But you're our army, our warlords, and the Houses will be placed between us and it to be used as our shields."

I sure as fuck didn't like the sound of that.

"I don't want to go through the Szarvas's estate," I pouted, not even ashamed at how boyishly pathetic I sounded. I just didn't want to deal with Irma or her family.

"There are old paths through the forest that connect all the estates, though hard to find. Why don't you kill two birds with one stone, Varen." A cold feeling swept through my blood as his eyes twinkled. He pitched his voice louder and cast it toward the porch steps behind me. "I'm sure Miss Szarvas would appreciate a ride back home and you can cut through their estate."

The Horned God was no longer looking at me either. His gaze had drifted over my shoulder and his lips twitched with a suppressed smile.

Oh, hells no.

I slowly turned around to see Irma standing at the edge of the porch where the stone steps led down to the circular drive. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and she looked well and healthy after Mrysst had healed everyone. "Yes. Yes, I do..." she said eagerly, quickly tripping down the stone steps toward me.

Devoid of any makeup, the dazzling smile on Irma's face lit up her natural beauty, and for one moment she reminded me of the girl she once had been, the girl I had fallen in love with years ago. Until she flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder and coyly looked up at me beneath long eyelashes, shyly biting her bottom lip in a shitty attempt to seem modest and alluring. In one heartbeat, there and gone again, bold entitlement flared in her eyes and made them gleam brighter. Irma truly believed it was only a matter of time before she held my leash again.

And now she'd been forced upon me.

I spun back around to Sirro as my temper began to blaze.

I wanted to fucking kill him.

"You're more than welcome, Varen," the Horned God purred with a wink and a rich chuckle, before entering the limousine.

His driver shut the door and quickly paced around the sleek car.

My entire body locked rigid as a slender hand slunk up my arm and gently squeezed my bicep. Irma leaned into me and simpered, "Varen, you can take me home and on the way, we'll talk."

Fucking hellsgate.