Page 116 of Promise of Darkness
The answer is in here somewhere.
Each page details magic dark and powerful, and with every page I turn, my breath becomes a little shallower. This is dark magic. Summoning spells for the Old Ones. Blood sacrifices. A means to speak to the creatures of the Underworld.
It’s an abomination, and it should have been burned, not locked away in a library somewhere.
But there are creatures in here, some I’ve never even heard of. Creatures from the Underworld painted in grotesque detail with horns, and extra eyes, and leering tongues.
And as I turn the next page, I finally see it painted across the page.
Fetch.
The Heartless:Created by the Horned One himself, they were summoned from the bowels of the Underworld and are of neither plane, but somehow both. They can walk through shadows and are invulnerable to any mortal weapon, including star-forged steel. Their only weakness lies in direct sunlight and they can only be killed by the blood of the purest. The only other option is to find the hearts that were cut from their chest in order to bind them, and burn them. They were used as hunters by Sorcha, and once their prey is marked, they cannot lose their trail and will remain inexplicably linked until one or the other dies.
Another chill runs down my spine as I slowly close the grimoire and examine the mark that seems to be sinking even deeper into my skin.
The creatures that attacked us are fetches.
And I’ve been marked.
* * *
I stealthe grimoire from Kyrian’s library and slip back to my bedchamber. There’s no sign of anyone in the hallways, not even servants, but I can’t help feeling as though something’s watching me, and after what I read, I’m practically running by the time I reach our wing.
The light beneath Thiago’s door paints a bright line across the carpets, but my room is pitch-black. I slip inside and lock the door, resting my spine against it.
“Did you enjoy your little rendezvous?”
A little shriek escapes me as Thiago clicks his fingers and lights the candles by my bed. He’s stretched out on the mattress, one hand cupping the back of his head, the muscles in his biceps flexing as he watches me.
Erlking’s hairy b—
I clap a hand to my racing heart and hastily shove the pair of books and my lantern on the nearest table. “What in the Underworld are you doing in my room?”
On my bed….
“Waiting for you to return, of course.” He rolls onto his side, fingers idly stroking the bedspread as if he wishes it were me. I ignore the soft caress and the way my skin prickles in anticipation. His gaze drops to the books I tried to secrete on the table. “Stealing some of Kyrian’s books, were we?”
Kissing him in the alleyway like that was a bad idea.
Really bad.
Because now I know what awaits me, should I let him lure me into bed.
And it’s not going to be awful at all.
Wouldn’t. Itwouldn’tbe awful. I want to punch myself in the thigh at the thought, because even my mind is betraying me.
“I thought I distinctly told you to stay in your room.” The sound of his voice is still a purr, but now it has a bit of edge to it.
“And I thought you wanted my help working out what Angharad is doing, but I’m fairly certain the pair of you shut the door in my face earlier.”
He sits up. “So you thought you’d ignore me. Was that supposed to be retaliation?”
“I’m not thirteen,” I reply archly. “If you and Kyrian want to keep your secrets, that’s fine. But I’m not going to sit here in the dark, waiting for you to throw me a hint. How else am I going to learn anything?”
“You do remember that we were attacked several hours ago?”
I hold up my arm, revealing the white fingerprints. “Really? I had no idea.”
