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

Lou’s chest rose and fell rapidly beneath mine. Sensing the battle lost, she bared her teeth in a saccharine smile. “Is this how you treat a friend, Cosette? A sister?”

“Why did you run?” Coco repeated. No warmth lingered in her expression as she gazed at her friend. Her sister. Instead, Coco’s eyes glittered with frigid, impenetrable cold. The two could’ve been perfect strangers. No—enemies. “Why did you attack him?”

Lou sneered. “We all attacked him.”

“Not after we’d seen his face.”

“He startled me. Look at the state of him—”

At this, Thierry’s hands curled into fists. Beau winced at his purple fingers. “Perhaps we should return to the chapel, procure supplies,” he suggested. “You need medical attention—”

Herrrr, Thierry interrupted, the word strained, breathless inside our minds.

Célie gasped at the mental intrusion, her eyes flicking wildly between Thierry and me.

“Her, who?” I asked. “What happened to you?” My voice echoed too loud in the dilapidated room, my flushed cheeks and corded neck reflecting back at me in the broken mirrors. I looked unbalanced. Out of control. “Where have you been?”

But it seemed he couldn’t answer. Pictures flickered wildly again, each more incoherent than the last. When his black gaze fixed pointedly on Lou, my stomach plummeted. My hands turned to ice. Sick with trepidation, with regret, I spoke through gritted teeth. “Tell me, Thierry. Please.”

He moaned and slumped against the balustrade. Her.

Célie shook her head as if trying to dislodge an irksome fly. She couldn’t shake his voice from her mind, however. Couldn’t impede his magic. Dazed, she stammered, “But—but what does Louise have to do with”—she gaped at his various injuries before hastily looking away—“w-with your misfortunes?”

“He can’t answer you. Not yet.” Coco’s fierce gaze never wavered from Lou. “He’s exhausted and injured, and the magic required for speech is too much.”

“Was he—do you think he was tortured?”

“Yes.”

“But why?” Célie asked, clearly horrified. “By whom?”

Coco’s eyes narrowed. “He answered the last for us.”

As one, we all looked to Lou, but her attention remained fixed on Coco. They studied each other for what felt like an eternity—neither blinking, neither revealing a flicker of emotion—before a slow, uncanny grin split Lou’s face. “Two princesses fair, one gold and one red,” she sang, her voice familiar yet not. “They slipped into darkness. Now the gold one is dead.”

A chill snaked down my spine at the odd words. At her smile. And her eyes—something shifted in them as she stared back at us. Something . . . sinister. They flickered almost silver, like—

Like—

My mind viciously rejected the possibility.

Lou cackled.

Recoiling, Coco exhaled a breathless curse. “No.” She repeated the word like a mantra, her hand flying to her collar, tearing her mother’s necklace from her throat. “No, no, no, no, no—” When she slid the locket along her bloody forearm, it glowed briefly scarlet before clicking open. She thrust it toward me. “Lift her up. Lift her up now.”

I hastened to comply, but Lou struck with the speed of an adder, her teeth sinking deep into the soft flesh of my cheek. I reared backward with a roar. Lifting her knee with alarming force, she connected with my groin. I folded instantly at the spike of white-hot pain. Stars dotted my vision, and waves of nausea wracked my frame. Vaguely, I heard Lou spring to her feet. But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Célie nudged my ribs with her boot. “Get up,” she said, voice low and panicked. Glass crunched and bodies thudded somewhere beyond me. She kicked my side again. “She’s getting away. Get up!”

Groaning, I forced myself to my feet. Though my entire lower half ached, I leapt to join Beau and Thierry near the door, where they struggled to contain Lou. She hissed and spat as Coco tried to force blood to her lips. With one man holding her on each side, I stepped behind, wrapping an arm around her waist and seizing her hair in my fist. I forced her head backward. The movement bared her face to Coco, who acted quickly, smearing blood across Lou’s mouth.

Lou screamed and seized instantly. Blisters formed where the blood touched her lips.

“What is it?” I asked wildly. My stomach rioted with fear, with regret, with treacherous, treasonous resolve. I did not let go. “What’ve you done?”

“I thought your blood would just subdue her—” Beau’s frantic voice echoed my own. He watched in horror as Lou’s back bowed, as she finally slumped in our arms.

Coco stepped back, eyes blazing with satisfaction. “The blood of an enemy poisons.”

The blood of an enemy poisons.

Nonsensical words. Ludicrous ones. And yet . . .

Realization began to take shape in my gut, even as my mind still protested.

Beau shook Lou with rising hysteria, his breath labored. His face red. “What the fuck does that mean?” He shook her harder. “Is she—have we just—?” But Coco only grasped Lou’s chin in answer, forcing open one fluttering eyelid. She isn’t dead. I repeated the words, trying to calm the thunderous beat of my heart. To ignore my mounting apprehension. She isn’t dead. She isn’t dead. She isn’t dead. She’s just—