Page 58 of Terror at the Gates

“Exactly,” said Dr. Mor. “You’re the oldest. You’re supposed to keep him in line.”

There was definitely a downside to employing a man who’d known me his entire life, and that was the ease with which he parented me.

Cassius snickered, but his expression quickly fell when we both glared at him.

“As I said on the phone,” Dr. Mor began, directing our attention to the bodies. He snapped his gloves in place as he approached. “Cause of death is apparent, but there is something I wanted you to see.”

Dr. Mor pulled back one white sheet, revealing a purple-tinged Burke. A thread of anger snaked through me, and my jawclenched. I was eager to know what motivated the enforcer to attack Lilith but also eager to confront Lisk.

The archbishop had given me something to hang over his head, though I didn’t think he was aware just yet, but it was clear to me that the dagger Lilith had come into possession of had been in the care of the church.

Dr. Mor drew a pen from the pocket of his white coat and pointed to Burke’s discolored mouth.

“This pinkish-purple coloring,” he said. “It is a sort of jellylike substance. During his autopsy, it oozed from every orifice. I took a sample, but don’t expect results for a few weeks.”

“What do you think it is?”

“No clue,” said Dr. Mor. “I have never seen anything like it, but I do wonder if it was some kind of magic. Maybe a curse.”

For a second, I thought Lilith might be responsible. Maybe she’d used her magic during the scuffle, but I didn’t know a single Elohai whose magic had this sort of effect.

“Call me when you have an update,” Isaid, then looked at Cassius. “Find someone to notify Reed’s family of his death.”

“What about the other two?”

“They’re gonna take a little field trip up north,” I said.

Chapter Seven

Lisk’s men didn’t take me back to where they found me. They dropped me off at the border of Nineveh, beneath the judging eyes of the archangel Zerachiel. Suddenly, all the work I’d done to become a different person—the woman I wanted to be—was useless. Faced with my abuser, I’d become that same scared girl who’d run away from home two years ago.

I pulled my jacket tight around me and started walking.

I wasn’t really aware of how I got home. My feet just carried me in that direction while my mind went blank, incapable of thought, crippled by a sense of dread. For a long time, I didn’t know what it was like to wake up without anxiety or fear. Those feelings ravaged me now.

When I made it within sight of my apartment complex, I spotted a familiar SUV. Zahariev leaned against its passenger side door. When he saw me, he straightened and threw his cigarette to the ground.

“You’re a piece of work, little love,” he said. “Don’t you ever do what you’re told?”

I burst into tears.

I hated crying, but I hated crying in front of Zahariev more.

I covered my face with my hands. I wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go. Zahariev pulled me close. My fingers twisted into his shirt as my body shook. All the while, I heard my mother’s voice in my head, ordering me to stop.

Push it down.There is power in never letting the world know how you feel.

She had never questioned the source of my pain. I used to wonder if she knew but didn’t want to face it or thought, in some twisted way, that it might put me on the right track.Hertrack.

As much as I despised her words, I tried to listen. I didn’t want to be like this right now. There were other, more important things to deal with.

Like Tori.

Zahariev’s hand slid up my back, toward my neck.

“Don’t!” I said, shoving away from him. The sudden panic had made me shaky, but I could still feel that man’s fingers pressing into my skin.

Zahariev stared at me, eyes wide, mouth agape. After a second, he composed himself and took a few careful steps toward me. He lifted his hands slowly until he held my face between them. His thumb brushed over my cheek.

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