Page 90 of Enticing Monsters

“Her team thought they found a way to transfer the power and life force of a fae to the queen,” Cadmus continues, unaware of the way his words are making my heart race. Fear closes in around me like an iron maiden. “They decided to test it out on one of the most powerful fae alive—the skinwalker, and the queen’s mate.”

Kian, Tristan, and Foster all appear horrified by that prospect. I can’t blame them. I may stab my mates when they piss me off, but killing them? No. Never.

“How could anyone willingly hurt their mate?” Foster asks, aghast.

“I don’t have an answer for you.” Cadmus’s lips compress in a perfectly straight line. “Some evil acts don’t have an explanation or a justification.”

“And did it work?” I can barely breathe around the tightening in my chest.

Cadmus nods once, and I feel as if my world is tumbling down around me. “By carving the symbol into the skin of their victim, they were?—”

“Wait.” Tristan waves his arms in the air to capture his attention. Both of his russet eyebrows arch upwards. “What did the symbol look like?”

“I’m not sure. Nobody even knows where it came from, though there are theories…most of them horrifying. But it worked. The king died, and the queen gained more power.”

“She became a skinwalker?” Kian breathes.

“Yes and no. She developed the skills of a skinwalker, being able to change her appearance at will. But can anyone truly change who they are? Their species? She had the power of a skinwalker, yes, but she didn’t balance the line between a Seelie and an Unseelie fae.”

Cadmus’s frown deepens as if he’s pondering some intense philosophical question. The frown quickly transforms into a scowl, the confusion on his face giving way to anger. “She kidnapped more fae over the years—fae that she didn’t believe anyone would notice if they went missing. Homeless fae. Young fae. Dying fae. She performed the ritual on all of them to absorb their power and their life force. She quickly discovered that she received a greater…boost, so to speak, from young, healthy fae.”

Oh god. The noose around my throat tightens, and I exchange a glance with my mates. Tristan’s eyes are wild, Foster’s skin appears green, and Kian has gone very, very still behind me, his fingers frozen on my shoulders.

“This sounds…familiar,” I whisper.

As quick as I can, I tell Cadmus about the ritualistic murders and the strange symbol found on all of their bodies.

“But the person who killed them is dead,” Tristan points out. “So obviously, it can’t be what we’re thinking, right?”

“Not necessarily.” Cadmus tilts his head towards the ceiling. Outside, the rain begins to slow. “Rumor has it the Obsidian Queen invoked the help of a rival goddess. This goddess showed the Obsidian Queen how to transfer power from fae. The symbol used was designed specifically for her—it didn’t matter who carved the symbol; all of the magic would flow straight into the queen.”

Are we dealing with a copycat killer? Who is this goddess that helped the Obsidian Queen? Is it just a rumor—a scary story that has been passed down over generations? Or is there some truth to it?

“What happened to her? The Obsidian Queen, I mean?” I’m grateful when my voice doesn’t shake.

“As I said before, the world sometimes has a life of its own. It wasn’t happy with the decisions she made. She slaughtered fae indiscriminately, regardless of their court, in order to keep the throne. She refused to give it up, so a lot of historians believe the world decided to take it from her.”

“In what way?” Kian asks.

Another flash of darkness blankets Cadmus’s face. “By destroying it.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

DEVYN

Aknock on my office doors pulls my attention off of the newspaper clippings I’ve been reading. All of them about the royal family.

Treasonous? Maybe. But I need to piece this puzzle together before it’s too late. Right now, I’m reading about the king’s death. Apparently, he was killed on a mission with V—which may explain how the prince came to be the way he is. Then again, I heard that he’s always been a bit unhinged.

I remember the queen was devastated by her husband’s death, though my memories of that particular time are fuzzy. I was…what? Twelve? Younger? I knew that Queen Marianna hosted a huge funeral and then barricaded herself away for months on end, no doubt mourning her love.

Through the glass above my office door, I can just barely make out the top of dark hair.

“Come in,” I call, waving a hand in the air.

My brother, Gage, and Avril remained with the prince, but I knew my attention was needed elsewhere. I’m not the type of man to sit back and twiddle my thumbs when people are in danger. Since there’s nothing I can do back at the apartment, I came here, determined to sift through all of the information and uncover a connection.

I arch my brows together when a frail figure steps into my office, wringing his hands together.

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