“Evan, leave her to me!” Ginevra shouted, rushing at Devina. Until then, she’d kept Gemma, who refused to strike her, at bay. I jumped in front of Gemma. I had to keep her there. I wanted a chance to talk to her—just one. She launched an attack and then another, but I blocked them all without striking her. I barely recognized her. She’d always been a fighter, but now she was a fearless warrior. The Witches had trained her well; she was giving me a run for my money with her poisoned, curved-bladed daggers. Time was running out. I had to seize my chance. I disarmed her and trapped her against the wall, pinning her wrists to it. For a long moment we looked at each other as she caught her breath.

  “You know your stuff when it comes to fighting Subterraneans.”

  “Especially the ones who want to kill me,” she hissed.

  I gripped her wrists harder. “I don’t want to kill you.”

  “You’re lying—I know you are. What else could you want of me?”

  “To have you by my side,” I said, determined, staring into her eyes. She held my gaze and a sneer formed on her face. She moved her lips close to mine, driving me wild. How I longed to kiss her again . . . just one kiss. Her hand rested on my thigh and slowly rose, disintegrating my every last shred of willpower.

  “You’re aroused by me,” she whispered, thrusting her hips against me as I lost my mind. The brief contact disarmed me, but then I looked into her eyes. A glimmer of violet flashed across them, returning me to my senses. In a flash, I spun Gemma around and held her face against the wall, pressing my erection against her.

  “I’m always aroused by you,” I whispered behind her ear. For a moment I’d let myself be bewitched, but now I was in control again.

  “You’ll never have me,” she said, her tone confident.

  “Evan, look out!” Ginevra shouted. An arrow whistled past my ear. I grabbed Gemma in my arms and held her tight, rolling across the wall with her. Absolon was back.

  Gemma stared at me, confused by my gesture, and the Hunter attacked again. “Go! Run!” I shouted to her.

  “We need to get out of here!” Devina materialized beside her and they vanished.

  I brandished my guns and prepared to face the Hunter. He was going to pay dearly for interrupting my encounter with Gemma. I shot at him and he dodged the bullet, surprised.

  Ginevra pulled out her Kalashnikov, but the Hunter appeared behind me so she couldn’t open fire. Not only was he strong, he was also agile and extremely sly. I tackled him and a furious struggle ensued. Suddenly, he tore a gun away from me, but I managed to kick it out of his hand before he could shoot.

  I was trying to keep him away from Ginevra. There was no way I could go back to Simon without her. I’d experienced for myself what it was like to lose the person you love. I launched another attack and Absolon defended himself by throwing me to the floor. I slid across the ground and pulled out another gun, firing a shot that hit him straight in the gut and passed through to the other side. His eyes went wide with shock. Ginevra and I held our breath, waiting for him to disintegrate. Instead he slowly raised his head and stared at me, his lips twisted into a sneer. We stood there, stunned. The bullet hadn’t killed him?

  The Hunter prepared to attack again and Ginevra reacted by showering him with all the ammo in her Kalashnikov. Yet he continued to rush me, disappearing and reappearing as swiftly as a ghost. He tackled me and grabbed my shirt, but Ginevra cast a spell that hurled him away. An instant later she materialized at my side and got me out of there.

  “What happened?” Simon asked, looking frightened when we appeared in front of him in the kitchen.

  “The Hunter,” I burst out, my nerves on edge. “He attacked us.”

  “The bullets, Evan!” cried Ginevra, who still couldn’t believe it. “Did you see what he did? I’ve never seen a Subterranean like this one. How can we face him now? We have nothing that can stop him!”

  “Would you two explain what’s going on?” Simon insisted with exasperation. “We’ve faced lots of Subterraneans. One more shouldn’t scare us.”

  “He’s not like the others. My venom doesn’t kill him,” she explained.

  Simon’s eyes bulged. “How is that possible?”

  “I have no idea. I hit him with an entire arsenal but it didn’t leave a scratch on him. No Subterranean has ever had such power.”

  “But he isn’t any ordinary Subterranean,” I reminded them. “He’s a Hunter. His priority isn’t helping Souls pass on—what matters to him is killing Witches. He must have developed some sort of immunity to their venom.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Ginevra murmured, incredulous.

  “Yeah. He’s become a serious problem.”

  Simon locked eyes with Ginevra. “This game is getting too dangerous for you.”

  “You can’t ask me to stay holed up at home just because it’s protected,” replied Ginevra, who must have read his mind. “I’d rather risk my life than be imprisoned.”

  “Well, I’m not willing to run that risk,” he said sternly.

  “Evan needs me. Gemma might—”

  “I need you,” Simon shouted. “The topic is closed. Until we kill the Hunter, you’re not leaving here.” The fire in his eyes kept Ginevra from protesting, though I knew it wouldn’t be so easy to keep her still—not when Gemma was involved. Bringing her home was almost as important to Ginevra as it was to me.

  “Gemma? Did you find her?”

  I nodded wearily. “It was no use. She doesn’t remember anything.” I sighed, at a loss.

  “What now?”

  “I’ll keep trying. I have no intention of giving up.” Somewhere beneath that Witch’s exterior was my Gemma, and I would find her again.

  “I spoke to her while we were fighting,” Ginevra said. “In her mind.”

  “I’m listening,” I said. What had she told her? Maybe she’d unearthed some glimmer of a memory . . .

  “No, I’m sorry. She sees you only as a Subterranean, an enemy.”

  “No need to be so direct,” Simon told her reproachfully.

  “That’s all right,” I reassured him, sitting down on the sofa. “I already know how Gemma feels when I’m near her.” Great bitterness, followed by the deep desire to claim me as her slave. My mind lost itself in the memory of her fiery gaze. “What did she tell you?” I asked Ginevra, driving the image from my thoughts.

  “She was confused. She doesn’t understand why I’m with you two.” Ginevra chuckled. “She wanted me to come to my senses.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “That she was the one on the wrong side. Then I realized that only you had any chance of bringing something out in her, so I handed her over to you.”

  “It didn’t work,” I said softly, resting my head on my knees. “I can’t believe this is actually happening. Me, fighting against Gemma. It’s a nightmare.”

  “What will you do if she never comes back? Have you ever thought about that?”

  “That’s not even a possibility.” I gave Ginevra a hard stare, almost as if her question were an insult.

  “You should think about it, though.”

  “Never.” I shot to my feet, furious. Had she lost her mind?

  “You don’t understand. The Sisters’ Bond has taken possession of her. I felt it. Gemma was reborn through Sophìa’s venom. I’m not sure there’s any chance she’ll be able to renounce evil.”

  “Shut up,” I ordered.

  “What, you don’t want to hear it? Well, you have to. We’ve all got a lot on the line.”

  “You can back down whenever you want,” I growled.

  “That’s not the problem! I care about Gemma as much as you do. I want to bring her back too, but you need to open your eyes and face facts.”

  “I’d rather be blind than lose hope.”

  “I don’t want you to give up, Evan. I just want you to stay focused. You were on the verge of letting yourself be claimed today. They were on Recon and you’re a Subterranean.” My eyes widened at the memory of the power Gemma had had over me. “If you let her tricks work on you, it’ll end up being you who gives in to her and not vice versa. Are you understanding me? You need to be strong. That’s the only way you’ll manage to bring her back. You need to see Gemma for what she is now: a Witch. What got into you back there, anyway?”

  “I . . . I lost my head,” I confessed. Having her so close after such a long time had disarmed me. I’d touched her—had been on the verge of kissing her. I’d longed to hold her again so badly I’d let myself be overpowered. Her lips had been so close to mine I’d believed I’d found her again.

  “Instead, she had you in the palm of her hand. She was this close to making you hers.”

  “I’m already hers.”

  “You know what I mean. The more you gave in to her, the more your energy flowed into her. Her lips would have made you her prisoner.”

  “Maybe I should let her do it,” I murmured, feeling defeated.

  “Don’t even say that,” Simon reproached me. “What would become of Liam?”

  I ran my hands over my head. What I’d said was ridiculous—I would never abandon my son. “You guys are right. I’ll be more careful next time.”

  Unless I was willing to succumb, I would have to see things for what they were. I couldn’t keep on deluding myself that I’d found her again just because she seemed to give in to me. It was a trick. Gemma was a Witch and I was a Subterranean. Once again we were pitted against each other, like when it had all begun—only now our roles had been reversed: I was the prey and she was the hunter. Gemma had tried to claim me. I’d felt my soul yearning to run to her, to give in to those lips, so inviting, so desirable. Overcome with frustration, I punched the sofa. Gemma’s power was so strong it overwhelmed me even when she wasn’t there. Ginevra was right. I couldn’t let her get into my head or I would lose sight of my objective. I had to stay focused to avoid surrendering. I had to see Gemma for what she’d become: a Witch. There was one thing, though, that I was wrong about: in our battle, I wasn’t the only prey. We were both predators. One of us would subdue the other. Either I would bring Gemma back or she would take me.

  The hunt had begun.

  A NEW DESIRE

  The doors to the kitchens flew open and all the Damned bowed, frightened, as I made my entrance. I was hungry. Very hungry. Soon we would all gather together to eat, but I couldn’t wait. I pointed to one of the Gluttons. “You. Bring me what you prepared. At once.”

  “As you command, my lady,” he said ceremoniously, fear in his voice.

  I sat down on a table and tasted the meat he placed before me. It felt like I hadn’t eaten in centuries, but that was nothing new. There was never enough food for me. Still, that day I was particularly on edge, which made things worse. The Damned watched me enviously as I raised the food to my mouth. They were all as thin as sticks and their sunken, bloodshot eyes disgusted me.

  “Don’t stare at me like that, dog,” I snarled at the one who’d served me. I threw a dagger at him and it lodged in his skeletal neck. He gurgled and exploded in a cloud of smoke as all the others groaned with terror. I picked up the platter of meat and smashed it against the floor. “It’s too tough.” The dagger returned to me like a boomerang. I caught it and jabbed it into the table. Then I pointed to another of the Damned. “You. What do you have for me?”

  “Everything I have is yours, mistress.” He bowed, offering me his platter.

  “Nothing you say will earn you any pity from me, bootlicker.” I dug my heel into his shoulder and he fell to his knees in pain. Picking up a candy apple from the platter he’d held out to me, I examined it. “But maybe this will.” Its sweetness exploded in my mouth. “Divine,” I moaned, closing my eyes. “Gluttony is without doubt the most delicious of all sins.” I hopped off the table and tossed the rest of the apple to the floor at his feet. “Here. You’ve earned it.”

  He lunged at the food and grabbed it, holding it tight. “Thank you, my lady, thank you.”

  He knelt down to kiss my feet but I shoved him away. “Make more for me and my Sisters!”

  “As you command, mistress. Right away.”

  “Now get lost before I change my mind.” He crawled away, not daring to stand up. “What are you all doing, idling around?! Back to the kitchens!” At my command the other Gluttons hurried back to their posts. Actually, we Witches could have made all the food we wanted magically appear, but that wouldn’t have been as much fun. Because of this, Sophìa had built huge kitchens and filled them with the finest Gluttons found during the Hunt. It was more satisfying to have others wait on us. During their lives, Gluttons had committed incredible atrocities to satisfy their insatiable appetites—not only for food, but also for money, power, and so forth. In Hell, their souls were ravenous, in a state of endless hunger that couldn’t be satiated. Their lives there were very short. They lacked strength, they lacked the power they’d always yearned for, and for the other Damned they were easy prey, the littlest fish. However, some of them were granted the privilege of waiting on us, and in exchange we allowed them to live longer—at least, as long as their dishes were worthy of our palates.

  Hung on a wall in the kitchens was Drugo, the first chef who’d set foot in the Castle. Legend was that, hoping to amaze Sophìa, he’d prepared an elaborate dish made of butterflies. Obsessed with her butterflies, she’d been outraged and had hung him there without killing him as a warning to all the others. Over his head she’d placed a plaque, as she did with all her beloved lost Souls, bearing the inscription “The Profaner.” Since then, everyone had called him that. His suffering would be eternal.

  I looked out the window and saw twilight ruling in the forest. Opening my palm to summon my Dakor, I felt the venom burn in my eyes as they transformed. The serpent hissed and slithered up my arm. It was comforting to feel him against my skin. Maybe he could banish the uncertainty that had left me so on edge: why had the Subterranean saved me from that arrow? I’d smelled the aroma of our venom on its tip. It wouldn’t have had any effect on me unless the archer had used pure fire . . . and yet the young man had shielded me with his body, even though for him the arrow would have been fatal. Why? It made no sense. It must have been a trick to make me lower my defenses. Devina had warned me about him. Everything she’d told me had been right: he was dangerous—more dangerous than the other Subterraneans—because his mind worked differently. What Devina had hidden from me, though, was that his soul had such a delicious, satisfying scent. Now I understood why she wanted to make him hers. She’d tried for centuries without succeeding. It had taken very little for me to get close to achieving that goal, on the other hand. He wanted me. I’d sensed it. I’d sensed the emotions struggling inside him, utterly different from those of the other Subterraneans we’d claimed. They all reacted either with total hostility or a complete willingness to surrender, but in him there was more. He was full of desire, but his willpower was incredibly strong. He wanted to have me, yet maintain control. His was an absurd thought . . . but it excited me.

  I smiled. Growing inside me was the sweetest whim, the most exciting challenge. I would bring down his defenses. I would claim him.

  MILLICENT AND PRISCA

  Voices touched my mind. It was Anya and Devina, and they were arguing. Again. Was it starting to become a habit? And why did I have the impression they were hiding something from me? After Devina had burned Anya’s book in my chambers, I’d found a tiny fragment of paper. The words in Sanskrit were cut off and I couldn’t decipher them, but the graceful handwriting belonged to neither of them.

  I drew my daggers and spun them around in my hands. The gesture relaxed me. Closing my mind so my Sisters wouldn’t notice my presence, I listened to their thoughts more carefully. I’d gotten good at it.

  “Don’t you dare, or I’ll tell Sophìa,” Devina threatened. She sounded confident. “I thought you knew me better. Do you really think Sophìa would accept it? It’s against her rules. Since when have you been willing to break them?” she asked mockingly.

  “Right—that’s usually more your department,” Anya mocked back.

  “That doesn’t matter any more. In that life she’s dead. She came here to us and here she’ll stay.”

  “You think I don’t realize that? I just want her to find herself.”

  “She already has. She’s a Witch.”

  “She could be both.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Do I seem like nonsense to you? It wouldn’t change anything for us if she knew!”

  “It would change for me.”

  “Or maybe you mean for him? You’re deluding yourself.”

  “Not any more than you are. No little fairy tale could undo the Empress’s venom. Do you think Sophìa is a fool? She took precautions.”

  “What does that mean? What do you know?”

  “Good!” said another voice, interrupting Anya. It was Camelia. “You’re here. I’m dying of hunger. When are the others coming?”

  “Gemma’s already here,” Devina said.

  I jumped. How had she sensed my presence? I sheathed the daggers behind my back and stood up straight, entering the Hall of Sisterhood. “These Gluttons are a bunch of crybabies. They’re starting to get on my nerves,” I said in a steady voice. “They’d better bring me something good to eat or I’ll make heads fly.” I glanced at Devina and then at Anya.

  Devina was pleased with me—it was clear from the way she looked at me. Anya, on the other hand, always seemed disturbed. Why? Because she was jealous of how close I was with Devina, that was why. However, neither of their opinions interested me. I was who I wanted to be, and soon I would become even more.

  “Welcome, my black butterflies.” Sophìa appeared in the room in an elegant black gown that left her thighs bare. The long sleeves covered her hands, showing only her sharp black fingernails. The Empress always wore magnificent gowns. At times they were sumptuous and strange, at others sober and refined. They were all made by her black butterflies, who modeled their creations directly on her body. They often changed their arrangement from one moment to the next, based on her mood, and they all gave her an irresistibly sexy look. Sophìa was the devil, but to anyone who saw her she was a goddess—the most enchanting, most dangerous creature in the entire universe. When she sat down, the strange hat on her head changed shape. As always, it was composed of butterflies. “Take your places and tell me of your victories and your failures.”