“Who are you working for?” I growled into his face. “Why are you in London?”

“I will tell you nothing,” he spat. “Take my fingers, my eyes, whatever you wish. I will not betray my mission.”

My lip curled. If I tortured him, I was certain I could get something useful out of him, but I knew I didn’t have that in me. I may have been built for violence, but I wasn’t built for cruelty. “Then you have no purpose.”

I released his tunic only to twist my sword right into his heart. His head lifted in agony and he opened his mouth to let out a low whine. He fell, crumpling to the ground, and his body shuddered for several long moments as he slowly turned to stone. Six.

I slumped, exhaling and then wincing. One of my ribs was broken. Possibly two. I looked down to examine the wound through my belly. My dress was shredded and I could see the wound struggling to heal. I needed to eat in order for my body to regain the energy it needed to heal my wounds.

“You killed six of my best men,” came a voice behind me, and I spun around. Another reaper stood in the doorway to the chandler’s workshop and I wondered how long he’d been standing there. He was demonic, without a doubt. With the other reapers gone, I could feel the pressure of his dark power shoved into every inch of my body like I was sinking through deep water.

Though my breathing was ragged and I couldn’t quite stand straight, I prepared myself to continue fighting. I lifted my sword and poised it at the final reaper. “I have a seventh heart left to take tonight.”

His smile was slow and wide. He was beautiful—that I had to give him. His eyes were blue like poison, brighter than any jewel—like blue diamonds that did not reflect light, but generated their own from tiny stars burning within. “Very bold,” he said, those eyes flashing. “Very bold, indeed.”

My smile matched his as I hid my pain. “I did just kill six of your best men, did I not?”

He laughed and put his hands on his hips. “Now what? You’re wounded, exhausted, and you still have the master of your fallen opponents to contend with. Still bold?”

I did not falter. “Always.”

He vanished suddenly and reappeared directly in front of me. His hand grabbed my sword wrist and twisted, forcing me to cry out, but I didn’t drop my blade. His other hand grabbed my free arm and held it tight. His strength was unfathomable. Fighting him was hopeless and suffocating, like being buried alive. I ground my teeth together, breathing rapidly.

“Who are you, little angelic reaper?” he crooned, his face close to mine.

I lifted my chin to look right into his poison-blue eyes. “The wolf does not tell the stag her name before she takes his throat.”

He dipped his face closer to mine. “If the wolf asked for the stag’s name, he would gladly give it. Especially when entranced by such an exquisite she-wolf with emerald eyes.”

I would not take his bait and ask him his name, but deep inside, I wanted to know who he was. He was powerful and he had to be important if he was master to others. I knew nothing about him other than that he was demonic and he was older than all of the reapers I’d put down tonight combined. He had both my hands trapped and I was in a vulnerable position, yet I felt no threat. I had survived many battles, defeated many enemies, and I knew what it felt like to face someone who wanted to taste my blood. This demonic reaper had no interest in killing me. I had to know why.

“I am Bastian,” the blue-eyed demon said. “I hope we meet again.”

Then his hands were off of me, and he was gone. I stood there, breathless and alone, and shocked that I was still alive. I had not felt even a shiver of fear lick up my spine until I heard that name, a name feared by every angelic reaper who valued his life, and I realized the full extent of my luck. He couldn’t be the Bastian, one of the most powerful reapers in the known world. He was rumored to be in the Far East and far, far away from England. His presence here could mean nothing good for any of us.

But why had he let me live?

2

I CONCEALED MYSELF BY DISAPPEARING FROM human sight within the veil of the Grim and flew above the city toward the country and toward home. With every beat of my wings, my body screamed in pain. My thoughts were consumed by Bastian and how lucky I was to have escaped when I was so terribly injured and exhausted. Had he decided to fight me, I would not be breathing right now. The night was pitch-black; the thick clouds overhead blocked any moonlight that might illuminate my path, and the only light came from a passing carriage or two with lanterns swinging at the coachman’s side. By the time I arrived at the old cottage, my wounds had healed, but I was on the verge of collapsing. Candlelight glowed in the window by the door and I knew Nathaniel was home and awake. I pushed open the door and my friend’s gentle face and copper eyes met mine from his seat at the table.

I struggled to peel away the wool of my blood-soaked cloak from my dress and skin. Nathaniel was used to me coming home like this, and he weighed my healed injuries and tattered clothes without much concern. Such was the life of a demonic reaper hunter. He was just glad I’d come home at all.

“That must have been some fight, Madeleine,” he said, and got to his feet. I didn’t have to tell him how badly I needed to eat.

“I almost didn’t make it out alive,” I replied. “And that’s putting things lightly.”

A large pot of delicious duck soup steamed over the fire, making my mouth water. Nathaniel filled a bowl for me and set it at the table. “You eat,” he instructed. “And slowly. I don’t want it all coming back up.”