Crescent City Hunt Quotes

I've got you," he murmured. "Sweetheart, I've got you.

The power shall always belong to those who give their lives to the city.

But wherever you’re headed when this life is over, Quinlan, that’s where I want to be, too.

I heard what you said.' Pump, pump, pump went his powerful arms. 'What you waiting to admit until I was almost dead, you fucking coward.' His lightening surged into her, sending her body arcing off the ground as he tried to jump-start her heart. He snarled in her ear, 'Now come say it to my face.

Vengeance incarnate. Wrath's bruised heart. She would bow for no one. Hunt's lightning sang at the sight of that beautiful, brutal face.

Hunt’s voice was a thunderclap as he said behind her, “Light it up, Bryce.

Fury didn’t stop her prep. “Bryce was a ghost for a long while, Hunt. She pretended she wasn’t, but she was.” The helicopter finally pulled into the air. “You brought her back to life.

You’re my home, Hunt. Our love spans across stars and worlds, remember?” She smiled slightly. “I’ll always find you.

Okay, let’s do a head count. If you’re disowned, disgraced, or both, raise your hand.” Tharion, Baxian, Lidia, Hunt, and Ruhn raised their hands.

Want to count my abs when we get home from the ballet?

Bryce stared at the fire, her face still splattered with the Archangel’s blood. And finally, she lifted her eyes. Right to the camera. To the world watching. Vengeance incarnate. Wrath’s bruised heart. She would bow for no one. Hunt’s lightning sang at the sight of that brutal, beautiful face.

Loyal unto death and beyond. Hunt's phone rang, Isiah's name popping up again, but Hunt didn't immediately answer. Not as he glanced at the gallery roof beneath his boots and wondered what it was like - to have a friend like that.

It couldn't be. It... it couldn't be. Bryce and Hunt were frozen with shock. Ruhn whispered, "Day?" Lidia Cervos looked over a shoulder. And she said with quiet calm in a voice he knew like his own heartbeat, a voice he had never once heard her use as the Hind, "Night.

It means that he’s going ballistic in the way that only mates can when the other is threatened. It’s what happened then, and what’s happening now. You’re true mates—the way Fae are mates, in your bodies and souls. That’s what was different about your scent the other day. Your scents have merged. As they do between Fae mates.

But Micah purred, “I would like to take you to dinner, Bryce Quinlan.” She pulled out of his grip, joining Hunt in the elevator. And as the doors closed, she looked the Archangel of Valbara full in the face. “Not interested,” she said.

Hunt." The entire world went quiet. "I was waiting for you." "Bryce, sweetheart, just get back to your apartment and give me an hour and-" "No," she whispered, closing her eyes. She put her hand on her chest. Over her heart. "I was waiting for you- in here." Hunt couldn't stop his own tears then. "I was waiting for you, too.

She whispered, "I'm scared." Danika grabbed her hand again. "That's the point of it, Bryce. Of Life. To live, to love, knowing that it might all vanish tomorrow. It makes everything that much more precious.

Oh gods,” Bryce said, choking. “Hunt is a fucking prince.” She laughed bitterly.

Hunt was so bored he honestly thought his brain was going to bleed out his ears.

Hunt’s eyes practically glowed as he said, in full view of those cowering along the street, “I am going to kill you.

-It's illegal. -Are you quoting the motto of the Meat Market, or trying to tell me that you somehow don't have precisely what I need?

I am Bryce Quinlan,' she said to the Gate, to the void, to all of Hel behind it. Her voice was serene—wise and laughing. 'Heir to the Starborn Fae.' The ground slid out from under Hunt as the light between her hands, the Star she'd drawn from her shattered heart, flared bright as the sun.

Isaiah coughed. "You watched Quinlan for one night." "Ten hours, to be exact. Right until her pet chimera just appeared next to me at dawn, bit me in ass for looking like I was dozing off, and then vanished again - right back into the apartment. Just as Quinlan came out of her bedroom and opened the curtains to see me grabbing my own ass like a f***ing idiot. Do you know how sharp a chimera's teeth are?

If my powers only work if my big, tough male helps me out—” “It can’t be romantic?” Hunt demanded. Bryce huffed. “I’m an independent female.

So Hunt pulled back. Stared into his mate's beautiful face for the last time. He laughed softly, a sound of wonder at odds with the crystal throne room and the monsters in it. "I love you. I wish I'd said it more. But I love you, Quinlan, and..." His throat closed up, his eyes stinging. His lips brushed her brow. "Our love is stronger than time, greater than any distance. Our love spans across stars and worlds. I will find you again. I promise.

She didn’t know the number, but she wasn’t at all surprised when she picked up, plopping down onto the cushions, and Hunt growled, “Open the curtains. I want to watch the show.

Bryce shouldered the canvas bag, surveying the Viper Queen. “Nice outfit.” The serpentine shifter smiled, revealing bright white teeth—and canines that were slightly too elongated. And slightly too thin. “Nice bodyguard.” Bryce shrugged as those snake’s eyes dragged over every inch of Hunt. “Nothing going on upstairs, but everything happening where it counts.

Those look like broken ribs," Hunt said wryly. "Definitely broken ribs, Athalar," Bryce replied, sitting back on her heels. "And a broken arm, from the way he's cradling it." "Skull fracture's healed," Hunt observed with equal distance, as if they were on one of his favorite Vanir crime show procedurals. Ithan's eyes flashed again. "I'm sensing hostility and a good dose of male pride," Bryce said. "Throw in some stubbornness and I'd say we've got a classic case of stupidity," Hunt answered. "What the fuck is wrong with you two?" Ithan demanded.

Hunt grinned. Her little smile was like seeing the sun after days of rain.

I’m saying I want shit kept quiet.” She grinned at Ruhn, showing all her white teeth, the expression more savage than amused. “I’m saying if you three morons leak any of this to your Aux buddies or drunken hookups, I am going to be very unhappy.” Honestly, Hunt would have liked nothing more than to grab some popcorn and a beer, kick back in a chair, and watch her verbally fillet these assholes.

Declan said, "Can we pause for a moment and remark on the fact that both of you have spoken to the Prince of the Pit? Is no one else about to puke at the thought?" Ruhn held up a hand, and Tharion lazily lifted one from the bench, but Bryce high-fived Hunt. "Special kids club," she said to the angel, who winked at her.

Bryce was too fast, even for him, as she leapt in front of the blow, Starsword extended. A wild theory, only half-formed, but— Hunt’s lightning hit the Starsword, and the world erupted.

Prince Hunt Athalar Danaan. He would have hated the last name were it not for the fact that it was a marker of her ownership over his soul, his heart.

Bryce barely heard the woman as she nodded. Barely heard anything beyond Hunt's lingering words. I've got you. Her fingers curled around his. She let her eyes tell him everything her ravaged throat couldn't. I've got you, too.

Come on,' he repeated, pumping her chest again with his hands. 'I'm waiting for you.' He'd been waiting for her from the moment he'd been born. And as if she'd heard him, Bryce exploded into life.

I heard what you said. What you waited to admit until I was almost dead, you fucking coward. Now come say it to my face!' -- Hunt

...I realised all this was the wrong path. But you and me, Bryce... You are where I want to end up. A life- with you. You are my fucking path.

Hunt hissed to Bryce through his gritted teeth, thunder cracking above him, "I heard what you said." Pump, pump, pump went his powerful arms. "What you waited to admit until I was almost dead, you fucking coward." His lightning surged into her, sending her body off the ground as he tried to jump-start her heart. He snarled in her ear, "Now come say it to my face.

He said after a while, "You traded your resting place in the Bone Quarter for Danika's." "Given what happens to everyone over there, I feel kind of relieved about that now." "Yeah." He took one of her hands in his and laid their interlaced fingers atop his heart. "But wherever you're headed when this life is over, Quinlan, that's where I want to be, too.

Hard to enjoy being free,” Hunt countered darkly, “if you’re dead.” Cormac opened the door, stepping into the swirling shadows. “I can think of no better reason to yield my life.

It'd be safer not to go at all, but here we are, going," Hunt said. Ruhn wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself as the angel crossed the room and knelt before Bryce, grabbing her hands. "I want a future with you. That's why I'm going. I'm going to fight for that future." His sister's eyes softened. Hunt kissed her hands. "And to do so, we can't play by other people's rules.

For Jelly Jubilee in the flesh?” Hunt grinned. “Anything.

Why would Danika tell them to lie low in the Meat Market?” “Why tell them to lie low in the Bone Quarter?” She sniffed and sighed with a longing toward a bowl of noodle soup. Hunt said, “Even if Danika or Sofie told Emile it was safe to hide out, if I were a kid, I wouldn’t have come here.” “You were a kid, like, a thousand years ago. Forgive me if my childhood is a little more relevant.” “Two hundred years ago,” he muttered. “Still old as fuck.

He knows we’re a team.” “A team,” Hunt said slowly. As if out of everything she’d laid out, that was what he chose to dwell on. “You know what I mean,” Bryce said. “I’m not sure I do.” Had his voice dropped lower? “We’re roomies,” she said, her own voice getting breathy. “Roomies.” “Occasional Beer Pong Champions?” Hunt snatched the hat off her head and plunked it back on his own, backward as usual. “Yes, the Autumn King truly fears our unholy beer pong alliance.

It's almost out," the witch hissed, grunting with effort. "Hang on, Bryce." She did. To Hunt, to his hand, to that softness in his eyes, she held on. With all she had. "I've got you," he murmured. "Sweetheart, I've got you." He'd never said it like that before- that word. It had always been mocking, teasing. She'd always found it just this side of annoying. Not this time. Not when he held her hand and her gaze and everything she was. Riding out the pain with her. "Breathe," he ordered her. "You can do it. We can get through this." Get through it- together. Get through this mess of a life together. Through this mess of a world.

This sunball-watching person doesn't fit with my mental image of the Shadow of Death.' 'Sorry to disappoint.' Hunt's turn to lift a brow. 'What do you think I do with my spare time?' 'I don't know. I assumed you cursed at the stars and brooded and plotted revenge on all your enemies.

Why,' she asked Bryce, 'is Hunt Athalar your roommate?' 'He was booted from the 33rd for his questionable fashion sense,' she said munching on the croissant. 'I told him his boring black clothes don't bother me, and let him stay here.

What sort of an afterward for you and me do you have in mind, Athalar?' He didn't balk from her searching gaze. 'The good kind,' he said with equal quiet.

I've got you,' he murmured. 'Sweetheart, I've got you.

Orion was bred to be receptive to our kind. Why do you think he is so adept at hunting us?

I don't need a male telling me when to eat.' 'How about a friend telling you that you had an understandably rough night, and you get mean as shit when you're hungry?

Hunt's fingers stroked over her brow. 'I thought to myself, There's someone I want guarding my back. There's a friend I'd live to have. I think I gave you such a hard time when we met up again because... because some part of me knew that, and was afraid of what it'd mean.

Bryce explained everything again, and Hunt couldn't keep himself from tugging her closer. When she finished, Ruhn echoed Hunt's words. "We got lucky tonight. You got lucky tonight." Bryce winked at Hunt. "And I plan to get lucky again." "Gross," Ruhn said as Declan snickered.

Stop cursing so much. You're upsetting Syrinx.' He leaned close enough to note gold flecks in her amber eyes. 'You have the dirtiest mouth I've ever heard, sweetheart. And from the way you act, I think you might be the alphahole here.

Does it matter now?” Flynn asked. “I mean, no offense, but Danika’s gone.” Bryce gave him a flat look. “Really? I had no idea.” Flynn flipped her off, and the sprites ooohed at his shoulder. Bryce rolled her eyes. Exactly what Flynn needed: his own flock of cheerleaders trailing him at all hours. She said to Flynn, “Hey, remember that time you set a dragon free and we’re dumb enough to think she’d follow your orders?” “Hey, remember that time you wanted to marry me and wrote Lady Bryce Flynn in all your notebooks?” Hunt choked. Bryce countered with, “Hey, remember when you pestered me for years to hook up with you, but I have something called standards—” “This is highly unusual behavior for royals,” Hypaxia observed. “You have no idea,” Ruhn muttered, earning a smile from the queen.

I don't see how I can move on from loving her when she gave up everything for me. For the cause.' He shook his head. 'Every time I hook up, I remember it.

Want to come play Scary Asshole with me?' Despite everything, despite the Asteri's watching and all that had occurred, Bryce smiled. 'I have just the outfit.

I'd think cuddling in front of the TV allowed me to at least be able to voice my opinions without getting my head bitten off.

The strike had been for the rebellion, Hunt knew, but the escape—the escape had been entirely for Ruhn.

Hunt leaned forward putting his cool brow against hers. 'I've known who you were this whole time. I never forgot you.

Half-dangling between Hunt and Baxian, Ruhn stared at her. Still said nothing. The world seemed to hold its breath as the elegant doe walked up to Ruhn and gently, lovingly, nuzzled his neck.

I'm sorry I dumped my baggage in your lap.' A corner of his mouth turned up. 'You can dump your baggage in my lap anytime, Quinlan.' She snorted, shaking her head. 'You made it sound gross.' 'You said it first.

Ruhn said to her, “I asked you to come. Not him.” Bryce linked her arm through Athalar’s, the portrait they painted laughable: Bryce in her fancy work dress and heels, the angel in his black battle-suit. “We’re joined at the hip now, unfortunately for you. Best, best friends.” “The best,” Hunt echoed, his grin unfading.

Boyfriend sounds weird for you. It's so... young. But what else is there?' If he had a star on his chest, Hunt knew it'd be glowing as he asked. 'Partner?' 'Not sexy enough.' 'Lover?' 'Does that come with a ruff and a lute?' He swept a wing over her bare thigh. 'Anyone ever tell you that you're a pain in the ass?' 'Just ye olde lover.

It felt like my power went into you,” Hunt said, eyes tracking the lightning as it slithered down her body. “It’s … yours.” “As mine is yours,” she said, touching a fleck of starlight glittering between the sable locks of his hair.

Ruhn nodded to Hunt. “We need you to be the Umbra Mortis. He’s a badass—he wouldn’t hesitate.” “A badass,” Hunt said, “not a cannibal.” “Desperate times,” Ruhn said, meeting Hunt’s stare. Determination and focus filled the prince’s face.

Go to the gym or the roof if you’re going to brawl. Please. I can’t afford to lose any more furniture.” She scowled at Ithan at that. Hunt snickered. “We’ll get through the mourning process together, Quinlan. Have a proper send-off for the coffee table. Holstrom should give the eulogy, since he broke it.

She laid he palm over his thundering heart. 'Did you just call me a fucking coward?' Hunt tipped his head to the stars and laughed. 'So what if I did?' She angled her face closer to his. 'Too bad all that healing firstlight didn't turn you into a decent person.' 'Where would the fun be in that, Quinlan?

Hunt.' The entire world went quiet. 'I was waiting for you.' 'Bryce, sweetheart, just get back to your apartment and give me an hour and-' 'No,' she whispered, closing her eyes. She put her hand on her chest. Over her heart. 'I was waiting for you- in here.' Hunt couldn't stop his own tears then. 'I was waiting for you, too.

Hey, remember that time you set a dragon free and were dumb enough to think she'd follow your orders?' 'Hey, remember that time you wanted to marry me and wrote Lady Bryce Flynn in all your notebooks?' Hunt choked. Bryce countered with, 'Hey, remember when you pestered me for years to hook up with you, but I have something called standards-

The Hawk smiled up at Baxian. “How about we start with your tongue today, traitor?” To Baxian’s credit, he stuck out his tongue toward the Hawk in invitation. Hunt smirked. Yeah—they were all in this together. To the bitter end. The Hawk cut his stare toward Hunt. “You’ll be next, Athalar.” “Come and get it,” Hunt gasped. Ruhn extended his tongue as well.

And being dickless, even for a few months, wasn’t high up on Hunt’s to-do list.

Orion, his mother had named him. Hunter. He doubted she would have done so, would have so lovingly called him Hunt instead, if she’d known what he’d become.

She’s here,” Hunt said. The scent of her still lingered on the sidewalk, lilac and nutmeg and something he couldn’t quite place—like the gleam of the first stars at nightfall.

earned Hunt a nickname whispered down every corridor and street in Crescent City: the Umbra Mortis. The Shadow of Death.

Hunt swore softly at the mercenary’s name. Fury Axtar was licensed to kill in half a dozen countries. Including this one.

Hunt studied the knife sheathed at his thigh. “Danika Fendyr was one of the strongest Vanir in the city, even without making the Drop. She begged like a human by the end.

It brings me no joy to see you with the halo and slave brand again, Athalar.” “Halo,” Hunt asked as solidly as he could, “or black crown?” Rigelus blinked—the only sign of his surprise—but the term clearly landed with the Bright Hand. “Been talking to shadows, have you?” Rigelus hissed. “Umbra Mortis and all that,” Hunt said. “Makes sense for the Shadow of Death.” Baxian chuckled.

I acted like an asshole. Let me cook something for you to make up for it.' Based on how much chilli powder you just dumped into that pan, I'm not sure I want to accept this particular apology.

But the work Hunt did in the shadows for the Archangels—for Micah, currently—that was what had earned him his nickname. Hunt answered directly to Micah, and the rest of them stayed out of his way.

You think Lidia will make it?” Hunt rubbed his jaw. “I hope so. We need her.” “For what?” Hunt gave his old enemy—now friend, he supposed—a slash of a smile. “To make these fuckers pay for what they’ve done.

This wasn't supposed to happen- between us,' she whispered. 'I know,' he said, kissing her shaking fingers again. He gently unfurled them, exposing the heart of her palm. He pressed his mouth there, too. 'But thank fucking Urd it did.' Her hands stopped shaking. Hunt lifted his eyes from her hand to find her own lined with silver- and full of fire. He interlaced their fingers. 'For fuck's sake, just kiss me, Quinlan.

We're going to be alright,' she lied. 'We're going to go home, where Syrinx is waiting for us. We're going to go home. You and me. Together. We'll have that afterward, like you promised. But only if you hold on, Hunt.

He knows we're a team.' 'A team,' Hunt said slowly. As if, out of everything she'd laid out, that was what he chose to dwell on. 'You know what I mean,' Bryce said. 'I'm not sure I do.' Had his voice dropped lower? 'We're roomies,' she said, her own voice getting breathy. 'Roomies.' 'Occasional Beer Pong Champions?' Hunt snatched the hat off her head and plunked it back on his own, backward as usual. 'Yes, the Autumn King truly fears our unholy beer pong alliance.

With Hunt, the explosion of energy-filled light that had probably erupted from him when he’d made the Drop had likely gone toward fueling an entire city. She sometimes wondered about it: whose firstlight was powering her phone, or the stereo, or her coffee machine.

Hunt fell back on centuries of training to keep the shock off his face. Black salts were used for summoning demons directly—bypassing the Northern Rift entirely—or for various dark spellwork. A salt that went beyond black, a salt like the obsidian … It could summon something big.

There are thirty-six photos on your four-year-old phone, and all of them are of dismembered bodies,' she said. Someone gasped across the store. Hunt gritted his teeth. 'Say it a little louder, Quinlan.' She frowned. 'You never take any others?' 'Of what?' 'Oh, I don't know- of life? A pretty flower or good meal or something?' 'What's the point?' She blinked, then shook her head. 'Weirdo.' And before he could stop her, she'd angled his phone in front of her, beamed from ear to ear, and snapped a photo of herself before she handed it back to him. 'There. One non-corpse photo.

Azriel struck before she could exhale. Searing, sharp power, a bolt of blue right into her star. Bryce bent over, coughing, breathing around the burn, the alien strangeness of the power. “Are you all right?” Nesta asked with something like concern. Was it his power? Or something about this world? Even Hunt’s hadn’t felt like this—so undiluted, like one-hundred-proof liquor. Bryce closed her eyes and counted to ten, breathing hard. Letting it ease into her blood. Her bones. It tingled along her limbs. Slowly, she straightened, opening her eyes. From the way the others’ faces were illuminated, she knew her gaze had turned incandescent.

You appeared as a cat the last time” was all Bryce said. All. She. Said. Hunt dared take his eyes off the Prince of the Chasm to find Bryce bowing her head. Aidas slid his slender hands into the pockets of his closely tailored jacket and pants—the material blacker than the Chasm in which he resided. “You were very young then.

Allow me to introduce my shepherd,” The Under-King said from the mist ahead, standing beside a ten-foot-tall black dog. Each of its fangs were as long as one of her fingers. All hooked—like a shark’s. Designed to latch into flesh and hold tight while it ripped and shredded. Its eyes were milky white—sightless. Identical to the Under-King’s. Her light would have no effect on something that was already blind. The dog’s fur—sleek and iridescent enough that it almost resembled scales—flowed over bulky, bunched muscles. Claws like razor blades sliced into the dry ground. Hunt’s lightning crackled, skittering at Bryce’s feet. “That’s a demon,” he ground out. He’d fought enough of them to know. “An experiment of the Prince of the Ravine’s, from the First Wars,” the Under-King rasped. “Forgotten and abandoned here in Midgard during the aftermath. Now my faithful companion and helper. You’d be surprised how many souls do not wish to make their final offering to the Gate. The Shepherd…Well, it herds them for me. As it shall herd you.” “Fry this fucker,” Bryce muttered to Hunt as the dog snarled. “I’m assessing.” “Assess faster. Roast it like a—” “Do not make a joke about—” “Hot dog.” Bryce had no sooner finished saying the words than the hound lunged. Hunt struck, swift and sure, a lightning bolt spearing toward its neck.

Hunt, with his gray wings and common blood, despite his lightning, had never even been in the running. Being asked to join Shahar’s elite 18th had been privilege enough. He’d loved her almost instantly for seeing his worth—and Isaiah’s. All of the 18th had been like that: soldiers she’d selected not for their status, but their skills. Their true value.

Is that coffee?” Hunt busied himself with pouring three cups, passing one to Quinlan first. “A drop of coffee in a cup of milk, just as you like it.” “Asshole.” She swiped the mug. “I don’t know how you drink it straight.” “Because I’m a grown-up.” Hunt passed the second mug to Ithan, whose large hands engulfed the white ceramic cup that said I Survived Class of 15032 Senior Week and All I Got Was This Stupid Mug! Ithan peered at it, his mouth twitching. “I remember this mug.” Hunt fell silent as Bryce let out a breathy laugh. “I’m surprised you do, given how drunk you were. Even though you were a sweet baby frosh.” Ithan chuckled, a hint of the handsome, cocky male Hunt had heard about. “You and Danika had me doing keg stands at ten in the morning. How was I supposed to stay sober?” The wolf sipped from his coffee. “My last memory from that day is of you and Danika passed out drunk on a couch you’d moved right into the middle of the quad.” “And why was that your last memory?” Bryce asked sweetly. “Because I was passed out next to you,” Ithan said, grinning now.

The radio crackled again, and a stranger’s voice filled it. “Daybright, we’re a go at Meridan.” Another voice: “We’re a go at Alcene.” Another: “Ready at Ravilis.” On and on. Eleven locations total. Then a soft female voice said, “This is Irithys. Set to ignite at the Eternal City.” “What the fuck is happening, Lidia?” Hunt breathed. They raced through the narrow city streets, the van with Flynn falling into line behind them. Hunt grunted, “Those are all places on the Spine.” Athalar was right: Every single city mentioned was a major depot along the vital railway that funneled imperial weapons to the front. Lidia didn’t take her eyes off the road as she picked up the radio. “This is Daybright. Blast it to Hel, Irithys.

Ember at last pulled away from Nesta. But she gently put a hand to the female’s cheek and whispered, “You’ll find your way,” before walking to the portal. Bryce could have sworn there were tears in Nesta’s eyes as her mother stepped back into Midgard. But those tears were gone when Nesta met Bryce’s stare. And Cassian, like any good mate, sensed when he wasn’t wanted, and walked over to the fireplace to pretend to read some sort of old-looking manuscript. Bryce knew that, also like any good mate, if she made one wrong move, he’d rip her to shreds. Which was precisely why Hunt had come back into the room, and was watching Nesta carefully. “Alphaholes,” Nesta echoed, eyes gleaming with amusement. Bryce chuckled and drew the Starsword. Again, Cassian tensed, but Bryce just offered it to Nesta. The female took it, blinking. “You said you had an eight-pointed star tattooed on you,” Bryce explained. “And you found the chamber with the eight-pointed star in the Prison, too.” Nesta lifted her head. “So?” “So I want you to take the Starsword.” Bryce held the blade between them. “Gwydion—whatever you call it here. The age of the Starborn is over on Midgard. It ends with me.” “I don’t understand.” But Bryce began backing toward the portal, taking Hunt’s hand, and smiled again at the female, at her mate, at their world, as the Northern Rift began to close. “I think that the eight-pointed star was tattooed on you for a reason. Take that sword and go figure out why.

Micah had offered Hunt the bargain from his first day in Crescent City four years ago: a kill for every life he’d taken that bloody day on Mount Hermon. Every angel he’d slaughtered during that doomed battle, he was to pay back. In the form of more death. A death for a death, Micah had said. When you’ve fulfilled the debt, Athalar, we’ll discuss removing that tattoo on your brow.

Hunt said, “I lost track of time, too. The Asteri dungeons are so far beneath the earth, so lightless, that days are years and years are days and … When they let me out, I went right to the Archangel Ramuel. My first … handler. He continued the pattern for two years, got bored with it, and realized that I’d be more useful dispatching demons and doing his bidding than rotting away in his torture chambers.” “Burning Solas, Hunt,” she whispered.

Hunt squinted as he lowered his wing and met the shithead’s eyes. “Fuck you.” Like Hel would these assholes make him beg and grovel—either for his own life or Ruhn’s. Lidia said mildly, “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Athalar.” Hunt looked, but not fast enough. The Hawk certainly didn’t look fast enough. And Hunt knew he’d treasure this moment forever: the moment when Lidia Cervos pulled out her gun and fired it right between the Hawk’s eyes.

The Oracle blinked, a slow bob of those thick lashes. “You remind me of that which was lost long ago,” she said quietly. “I had not realized it might ever appear again.” Before Hunt dared ask what that meant, her lion’s tail—a larger version of Syrinx’s—swayed over the floor. The doors behind him opened on a phantom wind, his dismissal clear. But the Oracle said before stalking into the vapors, “Do yourself a favor, Orion Athalar: keep well away from Bryce Quinlan.

It was catastrophic.” She swallowed against the memory. “When the Oracle looked into her smoke, she screamed. Clawed at her eyes.” There was no point hiding it. The event had been known in some circles. “I heard later that she went blind for a week.” “Holy shit.” Bryce laughed to herself. “Apparently, my future is that bad.” Hunt didn’t smile. “What happened?” “I returned to the petitioners’ antechamber. All you could hear was the Oracle screaming and cursing me—the acolytes rushed in.

We’re not going to make it,” Baxian called as Lidia zoomed toward the guard station. “Lidia,” Athalar warned. “Get down!” Lidia barked, and Ruhn shut his eyes, sinking low as the grate lowered at an alarming rate. Metal screamed and exploded right above them, the car rocking, shuddering— Yet Lidia kept driving. She raced onto the open road beyond the city as the grate slammed shut behind them. “Cutting it a little close, don’t you think?” Hunt shouted to Lidia, and Ruhn opened his eyes to find that the gunner had been ripped clean off. Baxian was clinging for dear life to the back of the jeep, a manic grin on his face.