Page 12 of Dead Wolf Rising (Bad Moon Academy 3)

Joan, I’m trying to concentrate. Can we turn off the commentary for like five minutes, please.

Fiiiiine.

Death takes a sharp breath. “Most likely. If she can raise the dead, my bloodline would make the most sense.”

“You have kids?” No one invited me to ask questions, but since he’s here and possibly going to kill me for taking his essence to bring things back to life and try to kill Jinx, I want answers.

“Reapers are all children of Death. Brayden is my child.”

Ah-ha! I knew he didn’t have a penis.

I blink, fighting off a smile because Joan is absolutely ridiculous, and I love her for being crazy. It gives me enough distraction that I can process things on a surface level and not freak out because I’m too busy worrying she’s going to make me burst out laughing more than I am about the repercussions of everything he is saying. Though I enjoy her antics, I shove the mental wall up so I can focus.

“You’re saying a reaper slept with a human?” Brayden asks, deep voice rumbling with disbelief.

Death flies a little closer, his cape brushing against Brayden’s front. Brayden tips his chin to stare at the fiery eyes within the hood. He doesn’t even shiver in fear. Meanwhile, my knuckles are turning white from how hard I’m squeezing his shirt.

“You visited this thief. You touched her.” The rasping of his voice grates against my nerves.

“Indeed,” Brayden whispers. “But I couldn’t do… that.”

“What about Theodore Thatcher?” I ask, turning to look at Carter. “He summoned a demon, right?”

Carter nods. “With blood magic. He was the first known necromancer in supernatural history.” He takes a hesitating step closer. “It’s possible the demon and Thatcher had children… if the demon was a female.”

“Come here, Child of Death.”

I glance at Brayden, hoping that he’s the one Death is talking to, but he simply lifts an eyebrow.

Well, fuck. Adler presses into me, ready to become a shield, but I can’t let him get hurt. Death doesn’t strike me as someone who has patience, so I unclench my fingers, shake them, and ease out from between Adler and Brayden.

Death moves away from Brayden, and I stop at his side. He grabs my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine. I shoot him a grateful smile then return my focus to the ominous figure before me.

“Give me your hand.” A demand, not a question.

Brayden squeezes my palm twice, reassuring me, so I lift the other, holding it face up.

Sweeping closer in a rush of cool, decay-scented air, he grabs me. Dark ichor shoots through my fingers, swirls up my arm, and trickles through the rest of my body. I gasp, trying to pull away, but he holds fast. The oily substance spreads through my veins, penetrates through my tissue, bone, and sinew, as though searching for something.

“Therrrrre,” he hisses, gripping my fingers so tight it starts to hurt. “Of course. Mazzikin.”

My mind flashes with a passage from one of the books I’d read earlier in the week. Mazzikin, the daughter of Samael and Lilith.

“Theodore summoned Mazzikin?”

A rasping, whooping sound fills the room, and the hand holding mine vibrates with laughter.

“Mazzikin cannot be summoned,” he says, voice dripping with condescension. “The Heir to the Underworld is playing games.”

“What?” I ask, not understanding one bit. “But why would she come to Earth? How did she and Theodore have children?”

Death growls, and I cry out when he clenches my fingers tighter. “She did not lie with ahuman.”

Joan pushes past my mental shield, snickering as she makes her presence known.Oh the drama. Do I sense a lover’s quarrel?

What? Death and Mazzikin?

Yes. Oh, how the plot thickens. She must have vibrators because there’s no way—

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