“A failure is merely a victory not yet enjoyed,” we replied as one.

  “Excellent.” Sophìa smiled, looking at us with satisfaction.

  The Hall of Sisterhood was one of the most luminous rooms in the Castle. It wasn’t particularly large, but in compensation it was high-ceilinged, and black butterflies fluttered far overhead, their wings producing a sound that delighted our Empress. A large chandelier hung over the table around which we sat, a perfect ring of black carbonado at which we all had the same importance, including Sophìa. Whoever sat at the Ring of Sisterhood was equal to all the others. “Tell me, Sisters, tell me everything,” the Empress insisted.

  Having dinner together gave us the chance to share our experiences, to tell Sophìa everything we’d done. That night Nerea and Safria began with anecdotes about the Reaping—some amusing, others gruesome. Our maidservants served the dishes the Gluttons had prepared and went to stand behind us, one for each Witch. The ring began to turn, allowing us all to taste each of the dishes the Mizhyas continued to serve. Their tasks also included keeping our cups constantly full of Cider, but this time one of them—Millicent—spilled some on Devina’s shoe. My Sister cursed, furious, and Millicent dropped to her knees to clean it as the others held their breath.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Forgive me, my lady,” Millicent pleaded in fright.

  Devina studied her shoe and smiled at her Mizhya. “Don’t worry. It happens,” she said. The maidservant looked at her, stunned, and relaxed slightly. Devina did away with servants for far less. Millicent would be wise not to get her hopes up. “Now fill my cup,” Devina told her, holding out her black goblet.

  “As you command, my lady. At once.” The maidservant obeyed, Devina’s amber eyes on her all the while.

  “Go on, take it,” the Witch ordered her with an affable smile. Millicent stared at her, confused, but obeyed. “Now drink it,” she snapped, her smile curling into a sneer.

  Millicent stiffened. “But . . . it’s poison. If I do, I’ll die.”

  “I said drink it!”

  Millicent looked at us Sisters one after the other, hoping someone would offer her a pardon, but no one spoke in her favor. She cast a desperate glance at Prisca, one of Anya’s maids, and raised the goblet to her lips, hands trembling.

  “No!” cried Prisca. She ran across the room and tore the cup out of Millicent’s hands. “I’ll pay for her mistake.” Before Millicent could stop her, the other Mizhya gulped down the poison.

  “No! What have you done?” Millicent cried, bursting into tears. Prisca gurgled, burning up from the inside out, and fell to her knees as Millicent embraced her. Seconds later she exploded in a cloud of dust.

  “What a touching scene,” Devina scoffed, making some of us laugh. Millicent and Prisca were lovers—we all knew that. “Still, I’ve never understood martyrs. Dying for someone else?” She snorted. “That’s nonsense, dost thou not agree?”

  “No!” Millicent dared to contradict her. “She was my great love,” she whimpered, still on the floor.

  “No one deserves love more than we do,” Devina said. Her whip cracked through the air and wrapped around the Mizhya’s neck. “It’s a pity her sacrifice was pointless. I’m not one to make compromises—she should have known that.” She yanked on the whip and Millicent fell at her feet. Devina shoved her heel against her neck, preparing to finish her off, but Anya rose to her feet.

  “Stop!” she ordered. We all turned to look at her. “Millicent has my pardon.”

  “Stop getting in the way all the time. You’re spoiling my fun,” Devina groaned. She pressed harder, all the maidservants in the room watching breathlessly.

  “You killed Prisca. She was my Mizhya, and a good one. You owe me another.”

  “But I didn’t kill her. She did it on her own.”

  Everyone laughed at Devina’s joke. Everyone except the Empress. “Obey your Sister,” she said sternly. “If she wishes to take the servant as her own, it is her right.”

  Devina fumed, but lifted her foot, freeing her. Head bowed, Millicent struggled to her feet, went to Anya, and kissed her hands. A tear slid silently down her cheek and Anya wiped it away. “In your place now,” she told her tenderly.

  Millicent nodded and went to stand behind her. Another Mizhya came into the room and took her place behind Devina, looking frightened because she knew what she was up against; Devina was the most capricious of the Sisters, and her Mizhyas either never did enough for her or didn’t battle-train hard enough.

  “Very well, my fearless butterflies,” the Empress said, bringing our attention back to her. “Who has another interesting story for me?” Meanwhile, the swarm of Souls descended from the ceiling and began to flutter over the table, creating amazing formations. Art in movement. Sophìa adored it.

  “I have an interesting story,” I began. The Empress smiled at me. “Devina and I went on Recon today.”

  “How did it go?”

  “Excellently, I would say.” I looked at Devina, who smiled at me, her amber eyes aimed straight at mine.

  “The chrysalis has blossomed,” Devina said, nodding. “She’s getting better and better.”

  “We claimed various Subterraneans and brought home eleven prisoners.”

  “A praiseworthy achievement. I am very proud.”

  “Still, I’m not satisfied.” I opened my mind to let Sophìa read my thoughts, but also told her aloud, “There’s a Subterranean I would like to claim more than any other.” I glanced at Devina, who now looked furious. But I didn’t care. I had decided: he had to be mine. “He’s stubborn and disrespectful. There’s not the slightest trace of fear in him—only strength, determination, and desire. I want him to be mine.”

  “Very well, then. You have found your Champion.”

  “No!” Devina protested, quickly rising to her feet. “I’m going to be the one to claim him.”

  “You are free to try,” Sophìa said to calm her, “but so is Naiad.” I shot Devina a challenging look. Only one of us would manage to win him—and it was going to be me.

  “I told you how long I’ve been after him. How can you do this to me?” Devina said bitterly.

  “Following your own instincts above all else is the first thing you taught me,” I answered, resolute. Your instinct is the most powerful weapon, the most reliable shield. Always follow it and you’ll find your way. Giving in to my whims was more important than heeding hers. And now, he was my whim.

  Devina pretended to calm down and addressed the Empress with greater deference. “My lady, this is madness. May I remind you how dangerous he is?”

  “Don’t pretend you care about her,” Anya spoke up. “You just want Evan for yourself.” Evan. So that was what the Subterranean was called. I had to remember the name.

  “Devina, your concerns are unfounded. There is no chance that this Subterranean could endanger our Naiad or the Sisterhood more than any of the others. She is special. She is a powerful Witch and within her flows my own venom. She will be with me forever. No one can change that,” the Empress stated matter-of-factly.

  Devina and Sophìa looked at each other for a long moment. Why was Devina so worried about that Subterranean? It wasn’t only jealousy—there was something else, I knew it. Was he really as dangerous as she’d always claimed? She herself had trained me so well that I could face him. Why, then, was she so concerned? Sophìa didn’t seem to have any doubts—quite the opposite. Anya, who had defended me, now looked sad again—disappointed, maybe.

  “Then it is decided,” the Empress proclaimed. “The Subterranean will be less dangerous under our control. If Gemma succeeds in claiming him, he may become her Champion.”

  Devina cracked her whip. Frightened, the swarm of butterflies dissipated and flocked to Sophìa. We all watched as Devina stormed out of the room.

  Our challenge had begun.

  ABSOLON

  I watched Simon make his way through the wreckage of the plane crash. Neither of us could wait to finish the mission and get back to Ginevra and Liam. Since our discovery that the Hunter was immune to her venom Simon had been out of his mind, knowing how reckless Ginevra became when it came to Gemma. This time, though, he hadn’t given her any choice: until we found a solution she would stay at home, where she would be safe. We had no idea how to rid ourselves of Absolon. Maybe we could lure him into the magic simulation scenarios, like we’d done with the other Subterraneans who’d been after Gemma.

  Simon disappeared, accompanying a Soul into the other world. I walked among the mutilated bodies in search of other Souls to ferry over. In the wreckage I noticed a young man with his back turned toward me, crouching beside his body. I approached him and noticed he was weeping. Another frightened Soul. “Can you save me?” he suddenly asked me, his head bowed.

  I rested a hand on his shoulder, but nothing happened. He looked up and I saw his black eyes.

  A bitter sigh escaped me. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” His Soul was irremediably tarnished. It was too late to help him. I felt a dark energy surround me a second before the Witch materialized in front of him.

  “Who are you?” the man asked, terrified by her ominous presence. Or maybe it was her golden serpent eyes that scared him.

  “You offend me. Don’t you remember me any more? We’ve spent so much time together.”

  The young man didn’t recognize her face, but he must have given in to her dark whispers, offering his soul to her. He tried to run, but the Witch paralyzed him with her magic and dragged him across the ground as he screamed. She swept him over to his corpse, which sucked him back up. Moments later, out of its mouth crawled a big black butterfly—one of the largest I’d ever seen. Her Dakor lunged out and gobbled it up.

  “What a delight,” the Witch murmured. I narrowed my eyes and she smiled at me seductively. “Bathsheeva.” She materialized in front of me, her expression menacing.

  “Go back to the Castle, princess of darkness. There’s nothing more for you here,” I told her.

  “You never know what I might find in the wreckage,” she replied, turning her eyes to the soul of a woman. If she wasn’t completely compromised, one of us still had a chance to save her. I wasn’t about to let the Witch take her. When Bathsheeva sensed my intentions, her expression hardened. “Step aside, Child of Eve. This time there’s no truce to rein in my instincts.” Her serpent hissed close to my face, but Simon materialized beside me, ready to hurl the fireball in his hand. The Witch glanced at it and turned to look at me. “Your reinforcements have arrived.”

  “You have your allies and I have mine,” I told her. She withdrew her serpent and, with one last challenging look, vanished.

  “Evan, look out!” Simon cried.

  An arrow whizzed right by my head and lodged in the plane’s fuselage where the Witch had been a moment before. I slowly turned and looked the archer straight in the eye. “Absolon.”

  Simon kept his fireball burning and remained at my side expectantly. “What a shame,” he said. “You barely missed her.”

  The Hunter narrowed his eyes at us in a tacit challenge, nocked another arrow, and pointed his bow at us.

  “Why are you still here? You miss the good old days of being a Soldier?” I asked mockingly. He pulled back on the bowstring but I materialized in front of him and grabbed the arrow before it could leave the bow. “Or did you want to train with us for a while?”

  Throwing me a malevolent look, he tried to punch me. Simon jumped over the debris of the plane and hurled him away. My brother and I exchanged a complicit glance and split up to catch him off guard. While Simon diverted his attention, I climbed onto the roof of the plane to lie in wait for him. Immune or not, sooner or later I would find a way to make Absolon pay for what he’d done to Gemma. The second he went after my brother I caught him off guard and slammed him to the ground, but my victory was fleeting. He was too strong and would soon manage to overpower me. We struggled amid the wreckage and Simon rushed in to help me. He opened his fiery palm and clamped it onto Absolon’s shoulder, burning through his leather tunic. The Hunter gnashed his teeth from the pain and with a single blow hurled Simon away, returning his focus to me. “Ye have thick skins, ye two.”

  “We’re fighting for a good cause.”

  He smiled. “As am I.” A dark, sharp blade slid out from his ring. He moved to stab me with it but Anya appeared behind him and dragged him away. The Hunter looked at us and tried to break free from Anya’s grip, but she shoved him against the plane. Her Dakor opened its fangs.

  “Anya, no!” Simon shouted with alarm. “He’s immune! Your venom can’t kill him!”

  She whipped out a long dagger and pinned his hand to the plane with it. Absolon shrieked in anguish. Anya pulled off his ring and pointed it at his throat. “Well, maybe this can.” Absolon stared at her, his eyes aflame, and tried to dematerialize, but it was no use. His skin began to shrivel, as if the Witch were desiccating him from the inside.

  “Going somewhere?” Anya challenged him.

  I approached them, stopping abruptly at the sight of the ring. “What the fuck?!” I muttered. Simon and I stared at each other in shock. It was the Devil’s Claw.

  The Hunter hadn’t come for the Witch. He was there to kill us.

  HIDDEN TRUTHS

  “Where did you get this?” Simon shouted, pointing the ring at the Hunter’s throat. The Claw glittered, dark and sharp as a razor—a messenger of death for those of my race. Its poison could banish a Child of Eve to Oblivion.

  Absolon sneered in reply. He was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wreckage, his body immobilized by Anya’s power. “Answer me! How did you get your hands on this?!” Simon shoved him to the ground with his foot. I’d never seen him so furious before.

  “The same way he got the poison for his arrows,” Anya replied, thinking out loud. “Sophìa recruited him.”

  “His arrow was for me, not Gemma,” I murmured, remembering the last time we’d met, when I’d protected her from the Hunter’s attack. “We were his targets, Simon.”

  “That’s crazy. Not only is he a Subterranean like us, he’s also a Witch Hunter.”

  “Only the devil in person could have given him the Claw. That’s the only explanation,” Anya insisted.

  “Why would he want to kill us?” Simon replied, still incredulous.

  “To keep me away from Gemma. How did I not see that?” I said. “Anya’s right. Sophìa is behind all this. She always has been. She ordered Gemma’s death.” We’d been wrong—it hadn’t been a last-ditch attempt by the Màsala.

  Anya’s jaw dropped in horror. “Tell us everything you know,” I snarled, turning to Absolon.

  “Why do ye not ask the Witch? I can feel her trying to enter my mind.” I looked at Anya, but she shook her head.

  Absolon laughed. He was obscuring his thoughts. “When ye spend centuries locked up like a cur ye learn to master true solitude.”

  Enraged, I hoisted him up and slammed him against the side of the plane. “Tell us what you know!”

  Paralyzed by Anya’s spell, he had no choice. “Why should I help ye? What have I to gain?”

  Without taking my eyes off his, I summoned the ring to my hand and pointed it at him. “Is your life enough?” The Hunter tilted his head back, distancing himself from the lethal blade.

  “Was it Sophìa who ordered Gemma’s death?”

  Absolon stared at me for a long moment before giving in. “Aye.”

  A sob escaped Anya. “I’m sorry, Evan. I had no idea.”

  “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I should have been more careful. Devina must have overheard me while I was telling my brother about the plan to purify Gemma, and she ratted me out. Is that right?” I asked the Hunter, pushing him to confess.

  “’Tis,” he confirmed, “yet ’twas not that made her do it. Lilith had already recruited me. She personally trained me for months. Said the risk of losing the new Witch was too high. Your plan but added more urgency to hers.”

  My eyes went wide. “Sophìa saw how strong our bond was—that was why she didn’t want to run any risks. If she hadn’t intervened, Gemma might actually have been able to resist evil.”

  Absolon nodded. “She feared the transformation alone might fail to steal her away from ye. I saw it when she tore off her fingernail and gave it to the red . . . A demon, that one, she is.”

  “Wait a minute. You were with them? You mean Devina knew everything? She knew you were going to kill Gemma? She knew you were still alive? How is it possible Sophìa spared you after what you did to Tamaya?” Anya hissed, tears in her eyes.

  “The red interceded. Once I had reduced Tamaya to ashes, ’twas she who saved me from the devil’s wrath. She would call on me in my cell, though I cursed her every visit. I would rather have rotted alone than lie with her. At times it made me regret not being dead.”

  Anya looked shocked. “She’s never cared about anyone, not even the Sisterhood.”

  “Or maybe she thought he might come in handy one day,” Simon remarked.

  “Aye,” the Hunter confirmed, looking proud about having killed Gemma before our eyes.

  I lunged at him, but Anya stopped me. We needed him alive. “What was her plan? What did you hear?” she asked, still shaken.

  “She sent me out to slay the half-Witch so ye would resuscitate her with Lilith’s venom. That way the lass would be hers forever.”

  “There was no war,” I murmured.

  Absolon smiled. “All an act. Lilith knew ye would never let her die. She tore a nail off her finger. Howling with pain, she was. She’s mad. All of ye are mad.”