Page 51 of Fate and Fury

Gathering bravery around her like a cloak, Elena obeyed. A monstrous, dark-edged shape loomed in the shadows, and she bit back a scream. Then she blinked, and a man stood on the steps below her, red-haired and clean-shaven. The angles of his face were as sharp as those of the Saints etched into the new chapel’s stained glass windows, as unforgiving as an angel’s. But the scent that drifted from him, stronger than it had any right to be—rosemary and the intoxicating aroma of crushed cloves—could only mean one thing.

“Demon,” Elena whispered, horror plain in her voice.

“Hello, Vila Lisova, mother of Shadowchildren,” he said.

29

ELENA

“Don’t be afraid.”

Elena stared at the demon incredulously, her blue eyes wide. She had been a fool to think she had the right to summon anything—be it demon, angel, or saint. Even if Niko were here, could he defend her? His gift worked in concert with Katerina’s. He was meant to aid a Dimi.

Elena was on her own.

“I won’t hurt you,” the demon said, opening his hands at his sides as if to show he meant her no harm. She had never been so close to a Grigori before, but she’d always imagined them as fearsome, ruthless beasts regardless of the circumstances. This one was smiling at her, a guileless grin that reached his eyes. “Really, you are far too pretty to harm.”

Elena got to her feet and cocked her head. She was used to compliments of this kind.

“Indeed,” she said, putting her fear and sadness aside with an effort. She would need her wits about her if she were to survive. “You mean to tell me all that was needed to stop the war between us was to place myself on the front lines? If only I’d known, I would have made the sacrifice long ago.”

The demon laughed, and the sound caressed Elena’s skin—a silken scarf, slipping over her body. “Beautifulandcharming. How happy I am that it is you who summoned me.”

“But how did I summon you?” Elena said, emboldened. “I called on saints and angels for help. Clearly, you are neither.”

“Clearly,” the demon said, brushing a fallen leaf from the shoulder of his linen shirt.

“Then how?—”

His full lips pursed. “Would you believe me if I told you I am not certain? Something in the balance of your world has changed. There are—openings, shall we say, that did not exist before. Places where the veil between what you would call good and evil has thinned.”

Something that’s changed. Openings that didn’t exist before.Elena would be willing to gamble that this disturbance was due to Katerina’s bewitchment of Niko. To the prophecy coming true just as Baba Petrova always told them it would.

She hadn’t thought it was possible for her to hate Katerina any more than she already did—but she’d been wrong. The Dimi was destroying the fabric of everything they depended on to survive.

Everyone knew that Dimi and Shadows weren’t meant to be lovers. But had Katerina listened? Of course not. She thought she was better, stronger than everyone else around her. That she didn’t answer to the same laws.

And now look what had happened. Elena, the disciple of a saint, was standing in the middle of a desecrated chapel, having a conversation with a demon.

The demon in question studied her, dark eyes flickering over her face. “You have thought of something troubling, I see. Would it be untoward of me to inquire what it might be?”

He sounded genuinely concerned, and Elena considered confiding in him. But as nice as he was being to her—and bynice, she meant he hadn’t eaten her yet—he was still a demon. “You’re a stranger,” she said, erring on the side of politeness, “and I’m not in the habit of sharing my innermost thoughts with strangers. Also, we’re sworn enemies.”

“Not personally,” the demon said, sounding affronted, “but I take your point. Let me introduce myself. My name is Sammael. It means ‘Venom of God.’ I’ve thought of changing it, but the company I usually keep doesn’t seem to mind.”

Despite her misery, a giggle escaped Elena, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. It had never occurred to her that demons had a sense of humor. But Sammael— “You’re not just a Watcher,” Elena said as the weight of his name sunk in. “You’re…you were an Archangel.”

The demon shrugged. “I was. But as you see, I didn’t find the company of Heaven too much to my liking, either.” He winked at her. “Now you,” he went on, as if this were a perfectly normal conversation, “are a companion of an entirely different ilk. For you, I would consider a pseudonym, should you make such a request.”

“Sammael is fine,” Elena said between her fingers.

“If you prefer. And who might you be?”

“You know my name.” The words scorched her throat. “I said it, when I called you.”

“Ah. But then, you did not know I was the one who would answer. I would far prefer you gave it to me freely.”

The damage had already been done; she’d laughed at the demon’s joke, made a jest of her own, and accepted his compliments. Elena sighed and dropped her hand. “I am Elena Lisova, Vila of Kalach.”

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