Gods & Monsters (Serpent & Dove #3) by Shelby Mahurin

“Lou.” Voice low in warning, I pulled at the back of her shirt. She yielded only a step. Around us, the Chasseurs shadowed the movement, pressing closer. “Don’t provoke them.”

“It’s a bit late for that, I think.”

“That it is.” Philippe’s deep rumble preceded him into the chamber. At his appearance, the Chasseurs separated in two waves on either side. Lou’s grin turned feral. Dressed in an impeccable suit of royal blue and gold—captain’s medal shining on his lapel—he regarded her as a bug beneath his boot. Then he smiled coldly. Bowed. “The sun has set, ma Dame. Your funeral pyre awaits.”

Lou retreated another step. Her arm brushed mine. Though her smirk remained fixed in place, her gaze darted from the room to the corridor. From Philippe to his Chasseurs. My heart pounded violently as I counted. A score of them in all. An entire squadron. “There are too many.”

Lou gestured to the cage’s door with a brittle laugh. “Good thing we have a choke point.”

I glanced down at her. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. My own limbs shook with adrenaline.

A Chasseur behind us sneered, “You have to come out eventually.”

She whipped around to glare at him. “We really don’t.”

“You’ll starve.”

“Come now. His Majesty won’t exhibit such patience. He decreed we would burn this evening.” Her grin widened. “It won’t reflect well on him if this execution doesn’t go to plan, will it? I imagine his denizens are already rather restless about the Hellfire. Rather frightened.” She addressed Philippe directly now. “It won’t reflect well on you either.”

On sudden impulse, I added, “Especially after my mother escaped.”

Low murmurs broke out across the room at the allegation, and Philippe’s face hardened. His expression said everything. Short-lived relief swept through me. They’d saved her. Coco and Jean Luc and Célie—somehow, they’d saved my mother. She was safe. Lou practically cackled now, casting me an appreciative look from the corner of her eye. “She will be apprehended,” Philippe said tersely. “Make no mistake.”

“You need a win, Phil. You can’t afford to wait.” Lou waggled her fingers at him. “I think you’ll be coming in sooner rather than later.”

A different Chasseur—this one younger than the others, practically an initiate—wielded his Balisarda like a crucifix. “You think your magic can harm us, witch?”

“I think,” she said slowly, “that it won’t be terribly difficult to disarm you, mon petit chou. I believe you’ve all met my husband.” She hooked her thumb at me. “Youngest Chasseur in the brotherhood. Youngest captain too.”

“He is no captain,” Philippe said darkly.

Lou arched a brow. “Well. He did kick your ass.”

I placed a hand on her shoulder, distinctly uncomfortable. Cold sweat trickled down my spine. When she glanced up at me, I shook my head. Near indiscernible. What are you doing? I tried to ask.

When she lifted said shoulder—so slight no one else could see—I had my answer. She didn’t know. The bluster, the jeers, the threats—all desperate bids for time. For help. For anything.

We’d run out of ideas.

“Come on, Phil,” she coaxed, and at her words, the faint scent of magic enveloped me. The others smelled it too. Some snarled and stiffened, knuckles tightening on their Balisardas, and looked to Philippe for instruction. Others shifted uneasily. A few, however, studied Lou in fascination as her skin began to glow. “Open the door. Play with me.”

Different words resounded in my head. Still her voice, but soft and scared. Reid.

I stared at her.

When they open the door, she said, still watching Philippe, stay close to me. I can’t harm them directly with magic, but I can bring this tower down on their heads. It’s the best chance we have. Then— Do you think Beau escaped too?

I didn’t know, and I couldn’t answer. Not as Philippe accepted a bow from the Chasseur next to him. A quiver of blue-tipped arrows. “Not today,” he growled, notching one with expert precision. When he pointed it directly at Lou’s face, her eyes narrowed. She no longer smiled. “As you’ve pointed out, I have little time for games. The kingdom awaits.”

He loosed the arrow without warning. Before I could vault forward—before I could even shout—it shot toward her with unerring aim. She whirled at the last second, however, faster still, and dropped into a crouch as the shaft lodged into the wall behind us. The Chasseurs there had already moved. They formed ranks on the front and sides of the cage, forming a sort of corral. A bull’s-eye.

More bows emerged around us. More arrows.

I hurtled toward her, seizing her hand and dragging her to the back of the cage. I had to do something. Now. Lou had spoken of magic, of willing golden cords into being. I focused on them now—on a shield, on a weapon, on a fucking key. Anything to escape this cage. No patterns answered. Of course they didn’t. I rolled sideways as Philippe launched a second arrow.

“Why bother with the stake?” Snarling, Lou lifted her hand, and the bolt fractured midair. When it fell to our feet, I seized it, spearing a foolish Chasseur who’d tried to creep behind. He fell like a stone. Eyes rolling. Limbs twitching. Lou stared at him in horror. “What the—?”