“No, nothing like that pansy,” Finn spat with disgust. “Gaelyn is weak. The centuries have diminished his magic. But Alden is strong.” Pure, undiluted adoration gleamed in his manic eyes. “He was so strong that the Magic Council feared him. They didn’t have the power to kill him, so they had him entombed. He slept for centuries, waiting for someone to free him. Me.”

Sera had heard this story before—all but the final bit where some idiot freed him. “You’re speaking of the mage named the Grim Reaper.”

“It was the sniveling fools on the Magic Council that gave Alden that name. He is so much more than death.”

“More than death? Right,” she said drily. “He was a monster who terrorized the world for centuries. He was put down because he was insane. He mass-murdered humans, draining their life force to increase his power and give himself immortality. He’s no better than a vampire, except at least most vampires know when to stop. The Grim Reaper just drains them dead.”

“Don’t call him that!” Finn snarled, drawing back his hand. His fist collided with her jaw and bone creaked.

She spat blood at his feet. “You hit like a little girl.”

He hit her again, harder this time. Yellow and purple lights danced in front of her eyes.

“You’ll understand. Someday,” he told her, his tone softening. His hand stroked down her face. “Or you’ll die,” he added with a crooked smirk.

Sera glared up at him through a veil of her own hair, wet with sweat and blood and who knew what else. It smelled like vomit. She sent a surge of magic across her skin, electrocuting him. The iron echoed her magic back at her, shooting her headache to new epic levels, but it was worth it to watch Finn flail like a fish on a hook.

“Stupid bitch!” he screamed, jumping back. His fireball fizzled out. He clocked her hard against the temple.

She must have blacked out for a second because when she opened her eyes again, he was pacing in front of her, bouncing a new fireball between his hands.

“What do you see in him?” he snarled, rage quaking his body.

“Who?” she croaked. Her throat felt like it had been strangled then hung out to dry.

“Kai,” he snapped out his cousin’s name like it was poison. “Is it the way he blows things up?” The cup on the table behind Finn exploded. “Is it his dragon magic?” The fiery shape of a summoned dragon took shape behind him. Its tail uncurled, sliding up Sera’s leg.

The fire of the dragon began to eat away at the fabric of her pants, turning it to ashes. Heat bathed her skin, searing it with pain. Sera shook her hands, pulling against the chains, but they were too strong.

Use magic to break them, her dragon said. I’ve figured out how to shield you from the iron.

Sera didn’t have to be told twice. She slid her magic along the chains. As the metal weakened and moaned, Finn stepped back, his mouth flying open in shock. But it was taking too long with the chains. She poured water magic down her legs, putting out the dragon’s fire. Steam hissing, her magic spread up the dragon’s tail, her rage chomping away at the summoned beast. As the last piece of the dragon dissolved, she threw her hands forward, breaking through her chains. Tiny iron flakes crumbled to the ground.

“We’re done here,” she told Finn, her voice cold and flat.

Twin pillars of fire burst out of the ground, one on either side of him. “Oh, no, Sera. We’ve only just begun.” The ghost of a smile danced across his lips, his magic crackling in the orange-red light. He arched forward, primed to strike.

Liquid lightning slithering across her arms, Sera shot him her best demented grin. “Bring it.”

Finn’s arms lifted, quivering with magic. His eyes were a nonstop runaway train ride to hell.

“Stop,” a voice boomed, the walls shaking with the force of the magic pounding beneath that single word. Overheard, two of the floating lights slammed into each other and crash-landed onto the table.

Finn’s tense body went liquid, and he fell to his knees. “Alden,” he said, his word kissing the ground as a cloaked man strode into the room.

“Serafina Dering,” the Grim Reaper said, his voice burning as intensely as his fiery green eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The Grim Reaper

ALDEN’S MAGIC HUNG thick in the air, old and powerful. Like Kai-powerful—times a hundred. His magic tasted like death and dripped torment. Sera could see how he’d earned the name Grim Reaper. Her skin was drenched with the vile mist. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up like an army of rigid-backed soldiers.

Alden stepped into the light of the magic lanterns. He looked like a mage, and yet there was something eerie about him. Too perfect. Too fake. He didn’t look a day over seventeen. It must have been all the life force he’d drained over the centuries. Power slid over him like a cloak of blood and tears. A cloak of death.

He looked down at Finn’s groveling form with disdain. “This is no way to treat our guest,” he said, his voice like crushed diamonds. “You were supposed to ask her about the traitor she mentioned in our midst, not force yourself on her. And most certainly not attack her,” he added with a clinical glance down at Sera’s burnt legs. The look in his eyes was so clean, so borderline bored, that you could have sterilized wounds with it.

Apologies and brittle excuses spluttered out of Finn’s mouth. Alden raised a hand, and the words froze on his minion’s tongue. Then he turned and glided toward Sera, fluid and graceful, his feet hardly touching the ground.