“To do what? Liam didn’t have any powers. He was human,” I said. “He was only a baby.”

  “Maybe they weren’t sure of that.”

  “So just to be on the safe side they took his soul?!” I shouted, furious.

  “They saved it,” Simon reminded me, a firm believer in his Subterranean values.

  Right. Why was it so painful, then? Once again, the desire to keep someone with me had taken precedence over my principles as a Soldier. It was just like when I’d spared Gemma. Saving her back then would have prevented her from transforming and serving evil. By killing her I would have spared her Hell. Still, I would have done it a thousand times if it meant being able to be with her. It was self-centered, but there was nothing I could do about it. Liam wouldn’t have had to die so soon either. I balled my hands into fists. I’d lost my son forever, but Gemma was still out there and I had no intention of letting her go.

  “I know what I have to do,” I declared. Ginevra looked at me, shaken. She already understood. “There’s nothing keeping me here any longer. I’m going to Hell and I’m going to bring her back.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” she said. “It’s madness and you know it.”

  “Evan, you’re devastated over losing Liam. Please, think carefully,” Simon cautioned me.

  “I already have.”

  “You can keep trying from right here, you know.”

  “For how long? What has it gotten me so far? Weeks, months of frustrating expectation, to spend how long with her? Five minutes? No. That’s not enough. I need her. I have to see her, touch her, convince her to unearth her past with me. I can’t do it unless I have enough time.”

  “Not even Simon’s power worked. You may never succeed.”

  “Then I’ll stay with her in Hell.”

  “You’ve already been there. They locked you up and tortured you. You can’t have forgotten. You still have the scars.”

  “The scar I have in my heart right now is more painful,” I growled in frustration.

  “Are you even willing to accept that it might be Gemma who inflicts all that pain on you this time? Will you be able to bear such suffering?” Simon warned.

  “I won’t go as a prisoner.” I looked him straight in the eye. “I’ll let her claim me.”

  “That won’t help anything. It’ll only be surrendering,” Ginevra murmured.

  “My mind’s made up, so save your breath.”

  “I don’t want to stop you, but you need a better plan than that.”

  “Sorry, I don’t have one. I’ve tried fighting to bring her back, but that didn’t work. I have to go. I owe it to Liam. It’s not going to end like this—I’m not giving up on us.” I ran my hands through my hair. A silence fell among us. Simon and Ginevra realized that nothing could change my mind. “It doesn’t matter where. My place is with her.” Stay together. Fight together, I thought, gripping my thumb in my fist. The promise wasn’t just tattooed on our hands—the words were also branded deep in her heart. I knew they were. They still burned, and I would reawaken their power, no matter what it cost.

  Simon rested his hand on my shoulder. “You’re right. You have to go.”

  I raised my eyes to him and even Ginevra nodded in resignation. “Just don’t ask me to say goodbye to you.”

  I smiled at her. “I won’t.” I got up from the sofa, hugged her, and fist-bumped Simon.

  My thoughts returned to the cenote where the mouth to Hell was located—a timeless place whose dangers lurked beneath its dark waters. Back then I’d been escaping from a nightmare. Now I was about to enter it willingly.

  “That’s not a plan. It’s a suicide mission,” Peter said, his tone critical.

  “Why are you still here?” I said, annoyed. I’d forgotten he was even there. Peter had eaten of the Tree, thereby gaining the knowledge of our worlds. Still, everything was new to him and what had just happened had floored him, leaving him wordless this whole time.

  “Hey, why are you always so pissed off at me?” he shot back, frowning at me as he approached. I stepped up to look him square in the eye, ready to take him on.

  “Calm down, you two,” said Simon. “Fighting won’t help anyone.”

  “You guys are crazy,” Peter scoffed.

  I snorted. “What, you would abandon Gemma to evil? Didn’t you used to claim you were her best friend?”

  “That’s exactly why I think it’s crazy for you to go there alone. I want to help you. There must be a better solution.”

  “What would you know? You haven’t spent the last few months looking for a way to bring her back while your family was being torn apart.”

  “Evan, you can’t blame him for thinking it’s risky. He’s right,” Simon put in.

  “I don’t need him, and I don’t need to stand here explaining it to him either.”

  “Actually, you do,” Ginevra contradicted me. “You need him.” I looked at her, dubious.

  “How are you going to get yourself captured, Evan?” Simon asked. “We can’t wait for Gemma to return to Earth—that could take weeks.”

  “Maybe not,” Ginevra said. “She killed Peter to claim him, and she won’t give up so easily. She’ll come back looking for him soon enough.”

  I thought it over. All things considered, Ginevra was right.

  “I have to act as bait?” Peter protested.

  “Whoa, you’re a genius—I never would have guessed it!” I said sarcastically.

  “Guys, don’t fight,” Ginevra yelled. “We have far more important things to discuss.”

  “You said you wanted to help,” Simon reminded Peter, who nodded.

  “Do you feel up to facing Gemma?” Ginevra asked him. “Think carefully—Witches will entrance you with their beauty and subjugate your mind unless you defend your thoughts. Seduction and temptation are their most powerful weapons. Think you’re strong enough to resist Gemma’s power?”

  “I can do it,” he said, determined. “I’m not afraid and I’m not backing down.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re a Subterranean,” I muttered. It was strange seeing him there in our living room, talking to him about things like Hell, Witches, and being claimed.

  “It explains why he’s always been drawn to us . . . especially to Gemma,” Simon replied. “He grew up at her side because the Màsala knew, and they put him near her.”

  “It also explains why he had something against me right from the start,” Ginevra said, throwing him a provocative look.

  “Plus his fear of snakes,” I added, taking full advantage of this opportunity to point out his weaknesses. I couldn’t bring myself to see him as an ally or dispel my urge to kill him, especially now that he had so much power over Gemma.

  “He’s always been fairly resistant to our power,” Simon pointed out, “but we never imagined he had the Subterranean gene in him.”

  “Only Sophìa can track down the descendants of the Children of Eve. She poured some of her power into a large globe so all her Sisters would be able to identify their enemies. It’s also the tool she uses to bend the forces of nature to her will. Sophìa is obsessed with Earth and likes toying with mortals. All she has to do is choose a spot on the globe and toss a little water into the air to cause a storm, flood, or tsunami, spreading panic, death, and destruction. It’s been the most complicated of her magic spells. Right after creating it, she burst into thousands of fragments—butterflies as black as her soul. She managed to reconstitute herself, but only partially,” Ginevra told us, evidently reliving the memory. “I was with her at the time. Her beautiful face was like a puzzle with pieces missing. She lost consciousness for a long time, though I was the only one who knew it. I was her Specter and took her place until she returned.”

  “What does a Specter do?” Peter asked.

  “She takes over command of Hell and all its creatures,” she replied, her tone solemn. “The Sisters are connected by a bond of equality, but even they must bow to the Specter’s orders. Whoever has been appointed Specter holds vast power, and not everyone is capable of handling it. That’s why Sophìa’s Specter is ruthless and unscrupulous.”

  “Who took your place?”

  “Devina. No one deserves the scepter of evil more than she does. I think she’s still the Empress’s second-in-command.”

  “Do you think she’ll try to subjugate Evan again once he’s back at the Castle?” Simon asked.

  “If Gemma claims him, she would have to leave him alone—though knowing Devina, that can’t be ruled out. What’s certain is that she will try to stop you, Evan, since she knows your true intentions. Gemma trusts her—it won’t be easy to compete with that.”

  “Devina has no power over me and never has. I’ll fight her like I’ve always done.”

  Ginevra nodded.

  “What do we do now?” Peter asked.

  “We wait. She’ll come looking for you when the time’s come,” Ginevra said. She gave Simon a telling look. He went over to Peter, placed his hand on his neck and looked him straight in the eye. The veins on Peter’s face squirmed as a dark memory ran through them, flowing toward Simon.

  “Go home,” Simon ordered. Peter nodded and disappeared.

  “Why did you do that?” I asked hesitantly.

  “I only canceled his memory of this conversation. It’s better that he not know our plan, or Gemma will discover right away that he’s only acting as bait. He hasn’t learned to block off his mind yet.”

  “It’s more dangerous for him. Will he be able to resist Gemma’s power?”

  “He’s a Subterranean,” Simon replied. “He knows where his place is.”

  “But he loves her, and that hasn’t changed. He won’t hurt her even though he knows she’s a Witch—but she might hurt him.”

  “That’s why we need to act fast.”

  “I agree with you,” Ginevra said, nodding. “I doubt he’ll be able to resist Gemma’s seduction. We need to get to them before it’s too late or we’ll have another problem. We need to be prepared.”

  “How long do you think it’ll be before she comes back for him?” Simon asked her.

  Ginevra smiled. “There’s one thing all Witches have in common.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We hate to wait.”

  “She’s already here,” I murmured, frowning. Inside our house, Peter had been hidden by our protective barriers, but once he’d left she’d tracked him down.

  “This is it.” Ginevra came up to me, in her eyes a trace of bitterness. This might be goodbye. None of us knew if I would return. I would let Gemma claim me, and there was only one way she could do it: with a bite from her serpent. The first time Witch venom had killed me, death had torn me away from her. Now it was my only hope of winning her back. The burn was still vivid in my mind, like fire in my veins. But I wasn’t afraid any more.

  Ginevra locked eyes with me. “Are you ready to die for Gemma?”

  “I have been since I first met her,” I replied confidently.

  Simon gave me a bear hug. “Good luck, brother.”

  I pulled back to look at him, my eyes turning gray as I transformed. “I’m afraid I’m going to need it this time.” He and Ginevra silently watched me as I disappeared, guiding my steps toward death. Toward Gemma.

  KISS OF DARKNESS

  Around me danced a swarm of black butterflies, fawning over me. They felt the power I emanated and fed off it. Sophìa had left, leaving me in her garden right in the middle of the Reaping. Only she could sort through the Souls, but I was her Specter now so I had certain privileges. No one else had permission to witness the Sorting. For some, Sophìa’s garden was a forbidden utopia. I closed my eyes and spread my arms, allowing the Souls to alight on me, venerating me and clinging to my body like they did with the Empress.

  One of them came to rest on my hand and I eyed it carefully. It had bold, powerful wings. My Dakor sensed its power and materialized. The other butterflies all rose into the air at once, like an explosion, but the one on my hand didn’t move. It must be an interesting Soul. My serpent hissed, creeping toward it, but I called him back, calming his impulses. I wanted it for myself. I knew it was forbidden, but I felt an overwhelming curiosity to know who it was, so I released my pheromones, immediately drawing the swarm back. The butterfly sensed my energy and bit me, wanting to feed off it. A second later a man took form before my eyes. He had well-developed muscles, a shaven head, dirty skin, and a scar along his cheekbone. He looked like a barbarian warrior and had such a virile air it seemed impossible he was the Soul of a mere mortal and not a Subterranean. The man bowed to me, resting one knee on the ground. “At your command, my queen,” he said, subjugating himself to my power.

  He was a First-Echelon murderer—I had felt it the minute he bit me. That was how Sophìa sorted Souls: with the Butterfly’s Kiss. Sophìa plumbed their depths, knew their souls’ darkest hue, and sorted them, based on the crimes they had committed, assigning them to an Echelon—the punishment they would have to undergo. First Echelon, Second, Third—she classified them into hundreds of subcategories. The butterflies would dance through the air, obeying her orders as they avidly awaited their turn. The large windows in the ceiling would open like a blossoming flower from whose heart they would be spit out into Hell, their new realm.

  A Soul like the warrior before me would be in great demand during the Hunt for the Opalion, but before they were recruited, Souls had to endure the great trial of Hell: surviving so as to prove themselves worthy. If they remained sane, they proved their strength. Only the toughest endured. Rarely during the Games did the Damned survive the Subterraneans, let alone our Champions. This one, however, had a fearless air and a powerful body. Maybe I should keep him for myself . . . The temptation was strong, but I knew Sophìa wouldn’t approve. I would definitely go out looking for him later, though. If you’re strong enough to resist, one day I’ll find you and you’ll return to me.

  “What are you doing here?” Devina’s voice sounded behind me. My Dakor lunged and bit the warrior, who vaporized in a cloud of dust.

  “What a shame,” I sighed, shrugging.

  “You’re not allowed to awaken the Empress’s Souls. It’s not your task.”

  “I was only contemplating them. Is that forbidden too?”

  Devina’s mind was in turmoil. She knew Sophìa had passed the scepter of command to me, and it had to have incensed her. However, her thoughts were distant and unfathomable. Why did she continue to keep me out? I already knew she was furious with me—what else did she have to hide?

  “I heard Sophìa has given you a great gift.”

  “Yes, soon there will be an Opalion in my honor and everyone will learn that I am the new Specter.”

  “My congratulations. But I wasn’t talking about that.” Devina studied me, her expression sly. “I mean the boy, Peter. You didn’t manage to claim him, it seems.”

  “Not yet,” I corrected her. “He’s already mine. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “I hope so, or it would be a real disappointment for the Empress.” I glared at her. “What about the other one, Evan? You haven’t claimed him yet either? Didn’t you want him to be your Champion?”

  I thought of the Subterranean and his impertinence. There was something about him that irritated and attracted me in equal measure. Devina had tried to subjugate him for centuries and failed. Perhaps I should leave the tedious task to her, since he’d done nothing but make doubt creep into my mind. I was Specter now; I’d obtained what I most desired. “You can keep him,” I said. She smiled at me enthusiastically, forgetting our conflict. She was my Sister, and after all, I had to make it up to her for taking command away from her.

  On the other hand, Peter seemed like a fine prize to claim. I hadn’t sensed him again after he’d disappeared. Those two killjoys must have shown him the way to eat of the Tree. Now he had Knowledge, and he must also have acquired his Subterranean powers, but that wouldn’t keep me from subjugating him.

  As if he’d sensed my need for him, I detected his soul again. “Well, I suppose you have unfinished business to take care of,” Devina remarked, having read my mind.

  “Would you see to Sophìa’s Reaping?” I asked.

  “Of course.” Devina smiled at me. “After all, I always have.”

  I went up to her and kissed her on the lips. “Thank you. You’re the best of the Sisters. Well, I’m off. A gift was given to me. The time has come to claim it.”

  I followed the young man’s call and materialized next to him. He was turned away from me, but when he sensed my presence he spun around. “Turn around again—I was admiring you,” I told him mischievously. He had firm buttocks and a well-trained body.

  “Gemma . . .” he murmured, shaken. His breathing suddenly went ragged. Though he no longer needed air, he was still attached to his human habits. Novices were so sweet. He leaned back against the workbench, gripping the edge of it in a useless attempt to maintain control.

  “Were you expecting me?” I asked, my voice charismatic.

  Seeing me approach, he didn’t budge and allowed me to move in between his legs. “You have to go. I don’t want to fight you.”

  I pushed the curly locks from his forehead as he stared at my lips, at the mercy of his emotions. “I don’t want to fight either. There’s a bond between us. Can’t you feel it too?” I whispered. “I won’t hurt you. All I want is a kiss.” I moved my lips closer and he stood there, paralyzed. I hadn’t yet unleashed my powers of seduction, but he already seemed utterly at my mercy. I smiled. Taking him would be child’s play. But maybe I could amuse myself with him a little more first. “You can touch me, if you want,” I whispered to him, guiding his hands onto my sides.

  He ran his nose down my neck, his hands trembling. I could read his desire for me in his thoughts. He wanted me—he always had. And now he could have me. Still, part of him resisted me; the Subterranean in him was rebelling against the Witch.

  “Maybe Devina is right,” I said softly. He listened to me carefully. “What Sophìa gave me is a great gift.”