Page 124 of Monsters in Love

Her shoulders connected with Jaston’s boots.

“Captain. He’s a monster. You need to…” Breath shuddering in her chest, she stared up at the Captain of Windhaven’s guard. No surprise marked his features. No shock or horror. Her stomach twisted as she realized he’d known all along. “How could you? You swore to guard this town from monsters—from demons. Yet the whole time you served the vilest demon of them all!”

He shrugged. “I guard those who behave. What do I care if the sinners fall into the tunnels?”

“Sinners do keep sinning.” The bishop tsked. “And their sins are so delicious.”

“Sins because you declare them such!” Belle cried, the silver ring so tight in her grip that it might fuse with her skin. Her horrified gaze shifted between the Captain and the Bishop. “The only evil in Windhaven is you!”

“Ah, Belle. I do believe I see what my Captain finds appealing about you.” The bishop slunk toward her, his form wavering with every step. That vial was clutched in his hand, its liquid a sickly hue, as if red blood had been burnt over a fire. “He has what he wants—the power, the prestige. All because he serves a power greater than himself. And soon so shall you.”

She tried to scramble down one of the pews, but Jaston grabbed her arms and held her firm.

“No!” She kicked out, her legs tangling in her skirts.

“Behave.” Jaston forced her to stand still.

“One of my creatures has already tasted you.” The bishop reached her and trailed a long, cold finger down her cheek and along her neck, ending on Talos’ mark. “Who am I to do less?”

Her stomach roiled.

His touch was cold as death. A soulless promise that nothing lay beyond this world—and that she’d soon be sent on her way to the worms.

Thank the gods she’d given Emmi that map.

She drew strength from the knowledge that her sister would survive—that the people of Windhaven had a chance. And gods knew the people earned that chance. Belle glared at the bishop. “The people know what you are. They’re going to leave you alone with your monsters.”

The bishop chuckled. “The residents are broken little sheep. Just as you will be.”

His hands darted out and nails sharp as knives sliced through her gown, sending the heavy fabric crumpling to the floor. Her dress pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her underclothes.

She shivered as the sun disappeared.

“Now, pretty little Isabelle,” the bishop said, flashing those terrible rows of teeth again. “I intend to enjoy you before my Captain claims another prize—”

A crash sounded from outside.

Cries echoed from the square. “Fire! The streets are on fire!”

The clatter of armored guards running and the slap of thick leather boots across stone echoed through the Chastry, followed by the crackle of flame and shouts of yet more people—these cries telling residents to run.

A sliver of relief broke through the horror encasing Belle’s heart.

She wouldn’t be rejoining her love in the woods.

But Emmi and many others had a chance of surviving the night. Isabelle had always put her sister’s life first—and this was no exception. What mattered was that Emmi had done it—she’d convinced their friends to listen. Of course she had. Those who hung red clothes already knew something was wrong, had already planned to leave—and they’d already listened to Emmi. They’d poured flammable oil through the grates Belle had marked and set fire to the tunnels, which should give them time to flee into the woods.

I’m so sorry I won’t be joining you.

Tell Talos I love him.

Fighting back tears, Belle narrowed her eyes at the bishop. This twisted creature, with his false cries of sin and sanctimony, had taken her father and her love—he’d even taken her mother, sweeping her away with his lies.

She’d be damned if he took any more.

“What a shame.” She curled her lip at him. “Sounds like all your sheep are about to escape your clutches—”

“Silence.” He gripped her chin, boney fingers digging into her skin.

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