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

The witches were undaunted. I felt them attack each door, each window, their patterns hissing and striking like snakes against my magic. They taunted those within—taunted me—whispering the ways they would kill them. Reid and Jean Luc hacked their way through them, leaving a trail of bodies behind.

Halfway down the street, Reid noticed my pale face, and his brows furrowed. I only shrugged and continued. It didn’t matter. Fewer allies littered the ground than foes. Though Zenna couldn’t breathe fire freely—not without roasting us in the process—she snatched witch after witch from the street. When they backed Coco and Toulouse into a corner, she plucked the two free. When they pursued Beau and Thierry—the former shouting for Coco at the top of his lungs—Seraphine cut them down from above. We’d prepared for this. Blaise and his pack, Troupe de Fortune, even Jean Luc and his Chasseurs—all around, they exacted their vengeance. Liana and Terrance gnawed hands from wrists while Toulouse and Thierry injected a trio of witches with hemlock.

Still, overwhelming unease crept down my spine. It near paralyzed me.

Morgane had vanished without a trace.

As the battle spread down the streets, I searched for her. For Claud. Any sign of horn or moonbeam hair. He could’ve disposed of her already, but for some strange reason, I didn’t think so. The air in the city remained foul with the stench of magic and rot. Where Balisardas had pierced the trees, dark sap wept like blood. Fungi crept up the front of homes. Of the castle itself. The entire atmosphere felt charged—angry—and continued to build.

More than once, I swore I heard Morgane’s laughter. My unease deepened to dread.

For his part, Reid had procured three more Balisardas—from where, I didn’t know—for Gaby, Violette, and Victoire, who cropped up every few minutes, hissing and spitting and bloody in their pursuit of those who pursued them. He and Beau had exploded, near apoplectic with rage, on the third time.

“They are trying to kill you!” Beau had torn open the door of Soleil et Lune and thrust them inside. “I swear to God, I will tie you to those seats—”

“They’re trying to kill you too,” Victoire had snarled as Reid slammed the door behind. She’d pounded on the door. “Let us out! Let us fight!”

Another bout of laughter drifted on the wind, and I whirled, searching. The hair rose on my neck. I hadn’t imagined it that time. She’d sounded close enough to touch. In proof of my point, Reid frowned at the theater door. “What was that?”

“Lock them in.”

“What?” His gaze snapped to mine. Sensing my intent, he stepped forward, but Victoire flung the door open once more. He hesitated. “Lou, what are you—where are you going?”

I didn’t answer, already racing down the street, ignoring his shouts. It didn’t matter how many times Beau interceded, how many people Reid led to safety. No one was safe here, not truly—not with Morgane still pulling the strings. Every move she’d ever made had been calculated. Tonight was no different. She’d known Claud and Zenna would join us—she’d known about the loup garou too—and she would’ve taken offensive action. The witches would keep coming. They wouldn’t stop until they’d finished this, destroying the Crown, the Church, their persecutors at last. But witches alone couldn’t down a dragon. They couldn’t kill a god.

No, these witches were the defense, not the offense.

And this was undoubtedly a trap.

“Where are you?” I slid down a side street, following a flash of moonbeam hair ahead. Reid’s voice faded behind. “I thought you didn’t want to play anymore? Come out. Come out and face me, maman. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Just the two of us?”

Another street. Another. I gripped my dagger in one hand, white patterns coiling and twisting through cobblestones, trash bins, wooden doors and broken windows and herb gardens. She laughed again. When I darted after the sound—bursting into Brindelle Park—a hand snaked out to catch mine.

I nearly stabbed Manon straight in the eye.

“She isn’t here, Louise.” Voice quiet, she didn’t meet my gaze, hers darting all around us. Twin gashes slashed each cheek. Though one bled freely—fresh—the other looked older. It’d started to scab. She backed away, pulling her clammy hand from mine and melting into the shadows. “You must turn back.”

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with our sisters?”

She hesitated at the bitter note in my voice. Quieter still, she said, “You speak as if we have a choice.”

“Where is she? Tell me, Manon.”

“She’ll kill us.” When she brushed the healing wound with her fingertips, I understood. Though Manon hadn’t revealed our identities to Morgane, she had let thieves escape. Backing away once more, Manon touched her other cheek now. The one with fresh blood. “Or your huntsmen will.”

My stomach sank. Conscious of every step, every sound, I followed after her, extending a hand. A lifeline. “Come with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

She only shook her head. “The dragon will fall, but still we’re outmatched. Morgane knows this. Don’t allow her to manipulate the—”

A branch snapped behind us. I jumped, slashing my knife backward, but Coco’s voice rose in a shout. She lifted her hands wildly. “It’s me! It’s only me! What’s going on? I saw you tearing past earlier. Is it Reid? Is it Beau? I lost track of him, and—”