a mother seeking her child I killed with surprising ease.
And I drank.
And they ran screaming when the carnage in my wake was discovered.
Vladislov had made me strong. God had designed me to be deadly. Darius had wrung the goodness from me. And I had agreed to be wife to the Demon who controlled the world.
Glassy-eyed humans in pens, deep under the rot of the twisted church. Hundreds, thousands in the catacombs. They didn’t speak at the sight of my blood-soaked body as I passed by. They didn’t ask for help.
Their minds were mush, their state hardly above that of an animal.
Though I could have, I didn’t help them. I wasn’t there for them. I didn’t even acknowledge them.
My mind was filled with the glowing beauty of a towheaded child that had his own pen, his own rags, his own snarling rage.
I tore the bars of his door right from the stone, bent metal… as if it were a simple task.
Scooping up a wild beast who tore into my throat in his hunger, I grew complete.
I sang as I rocked him, until the drowsy thing had a full belly and I had a sleeping child in my arms. His head lolling against my shoulder, I carried him away from his suffering. I bore him out of the desecrated Cathedral straight out into the world.
My son.
He smelled of poison ivy, of birch, of blood, and of fire.
The sun rose as he indelicately snored. And he nuzzled against his mother, a stranger who wanted him.
Vladislov did find me in time, resting on a park bench, curled around my boy.
A boy he looked upon as if he saw through the pretty, filthy shell. Smiling, honest, Satan held out his arms to take the burden from me. I allowed it.
Cradling the still sleeping little one, he waltzed slowly around, humming a few bars. Our eyes met, my husband asking, “Can we keep him?”
Forever. “Yes.”
“What bliss!”
Chapter Twenty
Vladislov
The boy lying fast asleep upon the bed was an angel. Well, at least angelic in appearance. I couldn’t even blame Pearl for falling in love with him at first sight.
Parted lips and apple cheeks smeared with dried blood, on an utterly cherubic face. He smelled of my wife, the same wife seated beside him as she continuously petted his matted, pale hair. I don’t think the little thing had ever been bathed, not that I had any intention of poking around in his wee brain until greater topics had been sorted.
“Pearl, my darling, beloved wife, I’m angry with you.”
Her hand stilled, just as filthy as the boy lying atop a pricy silk coverlet. It hovered, the tips of her claws unable to fully retract with her young near and a very real threat looming beside them.
“Don’t think I can’t see how you seethe, trying to hide it because the fate of the boy matters more to you than your pride. And I know why you’re angry too. I can see that as well.” Stooping down so my lips might brush her ear, I growled, “I can see right through you.”
She didn’t have an answer for that. How could she after the night she’d lived?
My Pearl may have refused the perfectly wonderful bath of blood I’d prepared with love, but she had bathed in plenty of blood on her own.
Drenched. I found her sitting in a human park in broad daylight looking like an extra from a horror flick. Rocking a small child in her arms, too taken with him to notice the looks she was garnering from the locals.
True to human form, no one approached what looked like a wild-eyed vagrant to offer help. Police were not summoned. Strangers walking dogs gave her a wide berth, their snapping little spaniels pulling at the leash to sniff at the bloody woman.
Anyone could have hunted and ended her, caught as she was in her distraction.
And they might have, considering the enemies she’d made in one night of bloodlust. Except I was watching over her. Giving her time to settle down and enjoy the feel of sunlight and the weight of her sleeping child in her arms.
“Running from me out of temper was unwise. I’d rather you strike me before—”
That was all the permission she needed, her upper body turning so she might lay open palm full-force upon my cheek.
I’m not sure who was more surprised. That even stung!
Where was I supposed to go with this? “Okay... that’s a start.”
“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” Hackles raised, she stood from