Page 95 of The Reaper's Vice

Ivan steps toward her, his smirk devious as he slides his finger beneath her chin, tipping Seraphina’s face up to meet him.

And I can do nothing but stand here.

“You belong tome,little doll,” Ivan whispers. “You always have. You always will.”

She shoots fire at him as she glares into his ugly hazel eyes, and I wish I had the power to make him drop dead on the spot—although, that would be too kind a death.

He keeps looking at her, waiting for a response.And she has only one to give him.

“I will never be yours.” She jerks her chin toward me. “Because I already belong tohim.”

Ivan lets loose a furious snarl, pulling a long silver syringe from his back pocket. He jams it into her neck, and she falls limp. A scream of rage billows into the air, but a moment later, another syringe is plunged into mine.

And I follow her into the dark.

46

SERAPHINA

“THE KILLING OATH”

When I come to,the first thing I notice is the thick black bag covering my head. I suck in a deep breath, finding the air stale and unsatisfying, but at least I’m alive. I blink into the darkness, my heart racing as the low rumble of an audience makes its way to my ears. It’s low and so far away, but with the reverberations, it’s like I’m sitting in a?—

The bag is ripped from my head, and all the air leaves me as I stare out over a great, gold amphitheater. Hundreds of men line the stands, cheering and calling their praise. Some wear white masks, others red, but they all have one thing in common.

They work for the Sanctum.

My heart leaps to my throat, a faint buzzing noise sounding in my ears as I take in the huge golden pillars surrounding the arena. I’ve never seen anything like it—something so extravagant couldn’t possibly exist in the city of Moriton.

Yet here it is…

I’m not sure where exactly I am or how they managed to get the resources to build something like this. All I know is I am genuinely terrified for the first time all night. I look down at the see-through gown draping my body, at the golden cuffs strapped to my wrists and ankles, chaining me to the floor. I tug against them violently, my heart shuddering to a stop when I realize they’re not going to give.

“Welcome, Seraphina Valez.”

I jerk my gaze to my right, my eyes popping in surprise as I look upon the man in the golden bird mask. The light streaming in glints menacingly off the shiny gold beak, but it’s nothing compared to the cruelty in his pitch-black eyes poking through the slits in his mask.

“Where am I?” I pull on my restraints. “What the fuck is this?”

The man tilts his head, refusing to respond. Out of the shadows, twelve more men in bird masks step forward, their eyes trained and hungry on my frame. My pulse skyrockets, and I brace myself, preparing for the worst. One by one, each of the thirteen men crouch into a deep bow, dipping the tips of their masks toward the gold-plated floor. And when they speak, their voices mingle into an eerie, cacophonous chant.

“Madam, you have returned.Madam, we bow to you. Madam, we give our lives to you.”

One by one, each raises their head, meeting my stunned gaze head-on. And the chanting continues. “Oh great and glorious Madam, lead us from ruin. Lead us into the golden light, so we may always be bathed in the warmth of the Sanctum.”

They shuffle on their knees, positioning themselves around me in a half circle, pressing their foreheads into the floor as their chant continues. “May the true gods of death smile upon you. May they allow you to bring the Sanctum back to its glory. May they give you their gifts so you can lead us from the dark.”

The air is pushed from my lungs as I look around—at the Table Members, the hundreds of Masks standing in the crowd—all eerily, completely silent.

“Wh-what am I supposed to do?” I whisper.

The Table Member closest to me raises his head, and I nearly choke on my shock at that pair of familiar hazel eyes.

Dr. Kebler.

“You must complete the sacrifice,” he says. “Only then will you ascend into the role of our Madam.” He gestures behind him toward a large stone table I had not noticed before. There’s a man lying there, chained and bruised and bloody, his breath exiting him in great, rasping heaves.

And that man is… Orion.

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