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

Because I recognized the man’s body.

And Constantin—an immortal being made of water and mist—was dead.

Coco sprinted forward with another cry. “Constantin!” Her hands fluttered over him helplessly while Lou and I treaded water in silent horror. Ice crept up my spine at his wide-open eyes. His slack mouth. The bloody hole in his chest. “Constantin!” Coco shook him fiercely now, clearly unable to process. Her shock, no, denial, mirrored my own. Constantin couldn’t have died—the melusines had cursed him eternal.

No one is safe here, Cosette.

Lou’s knuckles turned white on my arms. “How is this possible?”

My grip tightened on her waist. “I don’t know.”

When Coco continued to shake him, her hysteria rising, Lou swam forward determinedly. “Right. We can fix this. The waters restored him once, which means—”

I caught the back of her chemise. “Wait—”

A high, chilling laugh echoed over the cliffs, down to the shore, and Morgane le Blanc stepped from the path onto the beach. A dozen witches followed. They fanned out behind her in a defensive formation, eyes sharp and mouths hard. Resolute. Coco scrambled backward into the water, dragging Constantin’s body with her.

“Well, isn’t this sweet.” Hair gleaming in the moonlight, Morgane clapped her hands in applause. Her gaze flicked from Lou and me to Coco, who lifted a silver chalice to Constantin’s lips in a final attempt to revive him. Her lip curled. “You must be so proud, Josephine. Look how your darling niece frets over the guardian.” To Coco, she said, “He’s dead, mon petit chou.” She lifted her stained fingers. “Surely you know magic cannot live without a heart?”

“How—how did you—?” Coco’s voice stuttered as she stared helplessly at Constantin. “He’s the guardian. How did you kill him?”

Morgane arched a brow. “I didn’t.”

La Voisin stepped into view. A dark substance coated her hands. It matched the hole in Constantin’s chest. “I did.”

Coco rose slowly to her feet.

“Foolish man. We presented our black pearls, of course, but still he put up quite the fight.” Though Morgane tutted, the sound lacked her signature melodrama. Deep purple shadowed her eyes, like she hadn’t slept in days. Her skin was paler than usual. Burns riddled her face and chest, and her hair appeared singed in places. “Unfortunately for Constantin, we are the two most powerful witches in the world. Now, I will admit, the dragon gave us pause. It stole my broken toys, nearly razed my dollhouse to the ground, but no matter. The dragon has gone, and we shall not be caught unprepared again.” She glanced out at the waters, clearly displeased. “We are here now.”

“A dragon?” Lou whispered. “Who . . . ?”

“Zenna.”

She’d saved the others, after all. She’d flown back to Cesarine.

Coco could’ve been carved from stone. “What have you done, tante?”

La Voisin met her niece’s hard stare, impassive. Her expression revealed nothing. With the dip of her chin, however, three blood witches marched forward. Between them floated two gagged and bound figures. Eyes wide, both thrashed against the magic holding them to no avail.

Beau and Célie.

Lou cursed softly.

“What I must,” La Voisin said simply.

A beat of silence passed as they stared at each other.

“No.” Coco’s eyes burned at the word, her hands curling into fists. She took a small step forward, and the waters—they rippled beneath her foot. La Voisin’s eyes tracked the movement, narrowing infinitesimally. “That isn’t an answer, and neither is Morgane le Blanc. How many times did we ask for her aid? How many of our kin have perished from cold and disease? How many of them have starved while she stood idly by?”

La Voisin arched a brow. “As you have stood idly by?”

Coco didn’t so much as flinch. “I’m not standing idly by now.”

“No. You are actively standing in my way.”

“You betrayed us.”

“I am losing patience,” Morgane said with quiet malevolence. Her fingers twitched.

“Foolish child.” La Voisin spoke as if she hadn’t heard her. “You would have us continue to sicken and starve. Why?” Her black gaze found Lou and me. “For them?” Lip curling, she shook her head in a slow, winding movement, like a cobra preparing to strike. “You are the Princesse Rouge. Once, I would have encouraged your voice. I would have respected your opinion. But now your empathy rings hollow. You do not care for our people. You do not claim them as kin. You may protest my betrayal, Cosette, but you betrayed us long before this. Morgane has promised our coven safety in Chateau le Blanc”—her eyes seemed to harden at the name—“in exchange for Louise. I would do far worse than betray you to procure it. The time has come to choose your side.”

She stepped beside Morgane at the last, tall and unyielding. Together, the two formed a striking image. Both regal, both beautiful. Both queens in their own right. Whereas Morgane possessed a dark sort of glamour, however—ever the showman—Josephine boasted no decoration. She was stark. A study in harsh reality and bleak truth. The malice in the former’s eyes looked comically bright next to the flat, cold cunning of the other. The honesty. She didn’t try to hide it.