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

He peeled the thorns from my mouth, drew the spikes from my hands and feet, as Olympienne, Leopoldine, and Sabatay fell upon Josephine. Dozens of others streaked past, finding prey within the trees—the blood witches who’d gathered to watch my execution.

As I coughed and spluttered, Aurélien and Lasimonne dragged me from harm’s way. “What can we do?” the former asked. “How may we heal you?”

“You can’t do anything unless you’re hiding an antidote to poison in your . . . not pocket.” I coughed on a laugh, cradling my hands in my lap. They’d rested me against another tree. This one thankfully free of blood. “Go. My body will heal.”

Just slowly.

They didn’t need to be convinced. With two impeccable bows, they charged into the fray once more. I tried to breathe, to anchor myself in my magic. It had purged the hemlock from my body. It would cleanse Josephine’s blood too. Though the patterns shone dimmer than before—stretched too far and too thin across the city—the Brindelle trees helped. Even now, the power of this sacred grove flowed through me, deepening my connections. Restoring my balance.

I just needed time.

With a jolt of panic, I remembered Coco.

Trying and failing to stand, I searched for her amidst the chaos—blood witches and melusines weaving through the shadows of the trees—and found her sitting up amidst the roots of another sapling. At her back, Angelica helped her stand.

I heaved a shaky sigh of relief—until the two turned to face Josephine.

She fought with blood and blade, slicing and swiping at the melusines with preternatural strength and speed. If their blood didn’t spill, hers did, and she spattered it in their eyes, ears, noses, and groins. Every vulnerable spot in their human bodies. When Elvire fell backward, tangling in another witch’s black thorns, Angelica cut her free with equal skill.

Josephine snarled.

With the shake of her head, Angelica cleaned the thorn’s sap from her blade, wiping it on her gown. She’d worn a gown. “You’ve chosen the wrong side, sister.”

“At least I’ve chosen a side.” Josephine didn’t cower as Angelica approached. Coco crept behind, her eyes wide and anxious. I tried again to stand. “For too long, you have spoken of right and wrong, of good and evil, of facile concepts that do not exist. Not truly.” She prowled around Angelica, who waved her hand to still Elvire’s approach. “There is only pursuit, dear sister. Of knowledge. Of power. Of life. But you have always been afraid to live, haven’t you? You craved power, yet you betrayed your own people. You sought love and affection, yet you abandoned your child. Even now, you yearn for freedom, yet you remain trapped beneath the sea. You are a coward.” She spat the word and continued circling.

Angelica turned with her, keeping Coco at her back. “You’re such a fool,” she whispered.

“I am the fool? How do you envision this ends, sister?” Josephine’s mouth twisted as she gestured between the two of them. “Shall we carry on the pretense? Will you cut yourself to cut me? We both know it cannot go beyond that. One cannot live without the other. I cannot kill you, and you cannot kill me.”

“You’re wrong.”

Josephine’s eyes narrowed at the words. “I think not.”

“We must all play our parts.” Lacing her fingers through Coco’s, Angelica glanced back and squeezed. “For a new regime.”

Josephine stared between them. Perhaps it was the way Coco shook her head, the tears in her eyes, or perhaps it was the profound acceptance in Angelica’s smile. The way she touched Coco’s locket and whispered, “Wear it always.”

Whatever the reason, she yielded a step. Then another. Indeed, when Angelica faced her once more, advancing slowly—knife in hand—Josephine abandoned all pretense. She turned and fled.

Nicholina caught her ankle.

Unseen by all, she’d dragged herself forward, throat mangled, each breath a wet, hollow sound. Her skin had grayed beyond pale. Corpselike. Even now, she struggled to keep her eyes open as her lifeblood poured freely.

She didn’t let go.

Appalled, Josephine tried to kick free, but she slipped in Nicholina’s blood, falling hard to the ground. The movement cost her. Mustering the last of her strength, Nicholina crawled up her legs as Angelica advanced. “Get off of me, you disgusting little—” Though Josephine scrambled backward, kicking harder, she couldn’t dislodge her attendant.

“Miss . . . tress . . .” Nicholina gurgled.

Josephine’s eyes widened in true panic now. Turning, she attempted to push to her feet, but Nicholina held on, trapping her legs. Angelica loomed behind. When Josephine crashed back to the ground—twisting, snarling—Angelica knelt beside her, sliding her blade neatly through her sister’s neck.

Right at the base of the skull.

The three of them died together.

It wasn’t poetic. It wasn’t grand or heroic or momentous, like one might’ve expected. The heavens didn’t part, and the earth didn’t swallow them whole. These three women—the oldest and most powerful in the world—died just like anyone would: with their eyes open and their limbs cold.

Coco pulled her mother apart from the rest, fighting tears. Heedless of the fighting around her.

I staggered to her side. When she saw me, she gasped my name, flinging her arms around me. “Are you all right?” She pulled back to look at me, frantic, wiping her tears. Her fingers touched my face. “Oh my god. Here—let me—let me heal you—”