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

Though the sounds of clanging steel and snapping teeth should’ve muted her voice, I still heard it crystal clear. Like she stood right beside me. “Hello, Daughter.”

My own words rose calmly. “Hello, Mother.”

I glanced at Reid’s bare feet. His sodden chest. My own pitiful chemise. Even the others wore only woolen garments—and Célie a gown, at that—leaving them woefully vulnerable to attack. Perhaps not from magic, but steel could cut just as deep. I took a deep breath. We couldn’t fight like this. Not yet.

Waving my hand, I scanned the white web of patterns for something more suitable, something defensive, something like—something like a web. I grinned anew as the idea took hold. Nicholina had spoken of a spider deep within La Fôret des Yeux. L’Enchanteresse, a cannibalistic creature with silk among the lightest and strongest materials in the natural world.

I searched for the spiders now, spreading my awareness north, east, toward the ancient trees around the city. Their homes. The patterns didn’t follow, however, instead plunging directly into the street. I hesitated. Trees didn’t live below. Perhaps—perhaps the spiders had burrowed underground for winter. I didn’t have time to speculate, however. Not with Morgane across the street, flanked on either side by Josephine and Nicholina. Not with witches closing in.

With another deep breath, I pulled six identical cords. The patterns stretched width-wise until myriad fibers appeared—as thin as webs—and knit themselves tightly into armor.

Dark and fitted, light and flexible, it replaced our clothing in a burst of glittering dust.

Somewhere below, six spiders withered.

Morgane clapped her hands in applause. “How clever you are, darling. How prettily you wear my magic. At last, you suit the company you keep—thieves, all.”

“I’ve stolen nothing from you, maman.”

“You have stolen everything.” Her emerald eyes glittered like broken glass. Jagged and sharp. The emotion within them transcended malice into raw, unadulterated hatred. “But do not question—I am here to reclaim what is mine, and I will butcher every last man, woman, and child who attempts to keep it from me.” She jerked her chin, and the witches advanced in earnest. “Kill them all.”

A mighty roar shook the city in response, and a dark wing shadowed the moon.

Zenna landed beside me a second later. The cobblestones cracked beneath the sheer weight of her. When she snorted derisively, flame spewed forth. Witch, werewolf, and huntsman alike leapt from its path. From atop Zenna’s back—dressed in armor of her own—Seraphine drew an ancient longsword.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed in delight.

Coco had told me of Toulouse’s and Thierry’s torture. She’d told me of Zenna’s promise to eat my mother. Leaning around Zenna’s haunch now, I asked her, “What about dragons?”

Zenna punctuated the challenge with a fresh bout of flame.

Snarling with rage, Morgane scrambled backward as Chasseurs and witches charged. Balisardas flashed. Magic erupted. Zenna snorted again, launching into the air, plucking them from the street one by one and—

And eating them.

“Oh, that is disgusting,” Beau said, grimacing. “The indigestion alone—”

Before he could finish, Morgane brought her palms together one last time. The sharp scent of magic flared.

The ground trembled in answer.

All across the fray, people fought to keep their footing. Even Philippe paused, staggering slightly, with his Balisarda an inch from Terrance’s lupine throat. Reid tensed. His eyes narrowed. Then—

“Get down!” He tackled me from the platform, and we landed hard, whirling as branches shot forth from the very earth, splintering the church steps. They didn’t stop there. Dozens more surfaced rapidly, larger than life, growing trunks and roots, shattering the beautiful stained-glass windows. Growing through them. Stone rained down on our heads, forcing us to scatter into the crowd. I immediately lost sight of Coco and Beau, Célie and Jean Luc. Too short, too slight, I couldn’t navigate the tide of people. I couldn’t tell friend from foe.

Only Reid’s hand in mine kept a loup garou from knocking me back to the ground.

The trees kept growing. They crushed spires and mangled arches until Cathédral Saint-Cécile d’Cesarine crumbled in ruin. Until the forest reclaimed it.

That explained the spiders.

But it didn’t make sense. The forest belonged to Claud, not Morgane. How had she—?

The trees have mobilized, and we shall follow, striking hard and true.

The trees around the Chateau. My stomach twisted. She’d brought her own soldiers.

They didn’t stop there, however, fracturing the street now, their branches catching hair and cloaks as they stretched toward the sky. The woman next to me screamed as one hooked her skirt. As it lifted her higher and higher until the fabric tore. The branch snapped.

She plummeted toward the street.

My magic darted wildly. Panicked, I fought to calm it, to concentrate, but the woman fell too quickly—

Scant seconds before she hit the ground, the tree seemed to shudder. I stared incredulously as Claud Deveraux strolled into view. As he whistled a merry tune. As the tree itself bent—creaking and groaning—and its branches curled to catch the woman midair. To cradle her in a macabre embrace.