Bedeviled - Sable Grace Page 0,2

apparently, were not built for a stakeout.

“From the fires of the Underworld, I offer you my wings!” The mutterings of the group grew louder and more coherent as a Hatchling lowered its black cloak to the ground and spread its wings to the skies. Thin, golden scales stretched out over spidery veins and bones, and his reptilian face glistened eerily in the shadowed light of the moon.

“I didn’t know Hatchlings could speak,” Kyana mumbled. “Did you know they could speak?”

Ryker nudged her and she shut up, watching as the being beside the Hatchling also lowered its cloak.

“My loyal offering . . . Take my sight!”

“What are they doing?” she whispered.

“Offering their strongest assets to aid in Cronos’s return.”

The creature tilted its long neck toward the treetops, its face contorted with agony as blood streamed from its black eyes.

“What the hell is that?”

“Damn it, Kyana, if they hear you . . .” He sighed and pressed his lips to her ear. “It’s a Dark Seer. Now please shut up.”

Kyana sucked in a gasp before it could escape. Seers weren’t demons. They were humans born with the ability to see into the future—the equivalent of Oracles on Olympus but to a lesser, more mortal degree. But this thing didn’t appear human. It had black, shriveled skin and looked more like a mummy than anything she had ever seen. Except, of course, for actual mummies.

As the nine others in the circle dropped their cloaks and offered their strengths to the god they prayed would return to them, Kyana listened, waiting to make her move. A hush fell over the group below and the fire blazing in their center danced as though they’d been heard by someone other than her and Ryker.

Cronos hadn’t risen, and if she could do anything about it, he never would. But that didn’t stop her from worrying. He was dead, yet he’d managed to find a way to circumvent that minor inconvenience and plan his own resurrection. She wasn’t dumb enough to underestimate what he was capable of.

Even from the grave, he’d managed to turn Haven, the sweetest, most gentle Witch she had ever met, into a maniacal puppet. The pain of that crime was still so fresh and raw, Kyana wore it like lotion all over. Dead or alive, Cronos was a psychotic, dangerous mother trucker.

Haven was her best friend. That she’d kinda sorta turned Haven into a mix of Vampyre and Lychen to save her life hadn’t changed that. Neither had the fact that her blood had driven Haven slightly cuckoo and now she was hell-bent on destroying the world on behalf of the dead-but-still-deadly god Cronos.

It was Kyana’s job to hunt her down and bring her back to sanity before she accomplished that goal.

Maybe they should have stopped this meeting before it started as Ryker had wanted to. Maybe it wasn’t wise to give them a chance to make progress toward Cronos’s plan to come back.

“Can Cronos really accept what these things are offering?”

Ryker adjusted himself and leaned over her other ear. “They’re not offering them to Cronos.”

“Then who—” Kyana’s blood went colder than usual. She didn’t need him to answer. “Haven.”

As he nodded, his chin rubbed against her hair, making her shiver. He groaned and tightened his hands on her hips to hold her still.

“But I don’t think they have a clue what they’re doing,” he said. “Haven’s not a god. She can’t accept gifts like this.”

Thank Zeus.

Kyana didn’t need these buffoons making her job harder. She had only seven days before she’d lose her Vamp/Lychen abilities in exchange for full goddess-ship. Learning to become the new Goddess of the Hunt while trying to bring down the only real family she had was going to suck. Majorly.

Not willing to consider what would happen if she didn’t meet her deadline, she focused on the group below her. One of the creatures down there had the information she needed, and she was determined to get it.

“Ready?” she asked, thrusting her butt in the air to buck Ryker off her back. When his weight disappeared, she pushed herself back into a crouch position and leaned her upper body over the limb. The branch was strong, but with both of them standing on it, their weight unevenly distributed, it cracked under their feet. If they weren’t ready, the tree was.

“Give me a minute.” He pointed down at the circle of Cronos groupies. “They’re about to start their closing chant. When you hear the final hum, go. I’ll be right