Bittersweet Magic (The Order #2)

Demons.

She held herself very still as she waited for them to pass her hiding place, then edged around the pillar so she could watch. As the seething mass parted for a second, Roz caught a glimpse of one of the sisters clasped in a crooked, claw-like grip—Sister Maria, the youngest of the nuns. She was dressed in her habit, but the headdress was missing so her short hair stuck up in angry spikes. Her pretty face was blank, unseeing, as though she had zoned out of the horror going on all around her.

The group came to a halt at the front of the church by the altar, but then split up, most of them heading toward the catacombs.

Shit. Shit. Double shit.

It looked like they were after the same thing she was. And unfortunately, it also appeared like they had a hell of a better idea of where it was than she did.

Just three figures remained in view, plus Sister Maria, who was hanging almost unconscious from the arms of two demons. The man—at least he looked like a man—had dark hair, pale skin, and full lips. His eyes, green as emeralds, glittered as he paced the aisle.

Should she try to rescue the sister? But if she did, they would both die—Roz had no doubts about that. They had kept Maria alive for a reason. Roz could only hope it wasn’t to provide entertainment later.

At that moment, a loud yip of triumph filled the air. The man turned as the demons swarmed around him. One of them handed him a small package. Roz tried to make out what he held, but they were too far away. Anyway, she could guess—her key.

A slow smile curled the man’s lips. He shoved whatever it was in the pocket of his pants and strode toward where Sister Maria still hung between the demons. He tore her habit down the front, baring her to the waist. “Pretty,” he murmured, stroking his finger down over one small breast. “Unfortunately, I have no time tonight. Maybe if we meet again.” He spun her around, and at the same time drew a knife. Did he mean to kill the sister after all? Instead, he used the blade to cut a pattern in the skin of her back. Luckily, Sister Maria fainted at the first touch of the knife and hung lifeless.

When he’d finished, the demons released their grip, and she dropped to the floor. The man crouched beside her and slapped her face until she groaned and her lashes flickered open. “That’s a message. For Piers Lamont. And here’s the address. Make sure he gets it or I’ll be back to finish our business.” He dropped a piece of paper in front of her, and it fluttered to the stone floor.

“Is the place clean?” he asked his minions. The response must have been positive because he nodded. “Good.”

He waved a hand in the air and a portal opened in front of him. The demons swarmed through, vanishing from sight. He paused. “Oh, and tell Piers that Jack said hello. Tell him I’ll be in touch.”

Then he was gone.

Roz waited long minutes after the portal had vanished, before edging toward the fallen nun. Small whimpering sounds were coming from the woman—so she was alive, at least.

“They killed them all.” Sister Maria’s low voice was laced with despair. “They didn’t ask for anything, just killed them.” Pushing herself up, Maria winced in pain.

A flicker of regret washed through Roz at the thought of the nuns. But they were dead and beyond help. It was the living who mattered. “Lay still for a minute,” she said. “I’ll go check and see if everything’s quiet.”

“Sister Rosa? Please don’t leave me.”

Roz hesitated. It was dawning on her that she had failed. That someone else had snatched her prize from right beneath her nose. How many more years of servitude would she have to endure?

No. Goddamn it. She wouldn’t give up when she was so close.

Asmodai didn’t need to know she had failed—yet. Maybe this man, Piers Lamont, could lead her to the Key. Who could he be? What was his involvement in this world? At the least, she could snoop around. See if there was any way she could redeem this mess. She would go and deliver the message to Piers Lamont, and afterwards, decide where to go from there.

“Please, Sister Rosa.” Maria broke into her thoughts, her soft voice laced with pain.

Roz crouched down and examined the sister. The pattern cut into the skin of her back was a circle with a diagonal cross through it. Blood welled up in the cuts, blurring the lines, and she reached out a finger and touched the clammy flesh. Sister Maria flinched.

Roz contemplated the wounds for a few seconds. They were angry, puffy at the edges, and seeping blood. This was going to make traveling difficult.