I woke surrounded by the smell of cedar smoke, my limbs bare under silky sheets. I didn’t want to open my eyes yet, afraid of what I might see. I’d been dreaming of four black suns in the sky and an empty throne of black thorns. The images had filled me with a cold sense of dread. Four suns? Why had I dreamt of that?

Shadows pooled around me, chilling my skin. No one would know that a supposed succubus was scared of the dark.

Slowly, I forced myself to pry my eyes open, and a wave of fear slammed into me as I discovered the night surrounding me like a funeral pall. As my eyes slowly adjusted, I slowed my breathing a little. Faint streams of moonlight filtered into the room through tall windows. Frantically, I looked for a lantern or a candle—and I found one, lying next to my bed by a box of matches.

With shaking hands, I struck a match, immediately breathing easier at the sight of the guttering flame. I lit the candle, then held the brass candleholder out to investigate my surroundings.

I found myself in a canopied bed. I swung my legs over the side, wincing at the throbbing pain in my shoulder, and stepped onto a cold flagstone floor, shivering at the chill in the room.

A red-hued tapestry covered one of the stone walls, its embroidered image depicting images of war and victory, golden trumpets held aloft. Just to the right of the tapestry stood an arched oak door. I crossed to it, trying the doorknob—but I’d been locked inside. So that was a great start. Bit of a fire hazard.

To my right, tall windows stretched high above my head—two stories high, in fact. No one had hung up curtains in here.

From my vantage point, I could see movement in the woods outside—something white moving between the trees, something glowing with gold. It took me a moment to recognize that it was Kratos, riding through his woods with the pack of hounds surrounding him. The sight of the ghostly hunt sent a shiver of fear through my bones.

I moved away from the window, carrying the candle around the circumference of the room. A great stone fireplace stood empty in one wall. I’d be asking if someone could light that in the future, so I didn’t have to wake up gripped by abject terror.

Behind the canopied bed was a stone wall, bare except for an oak wardrobe, a full-length mirror, and an arched doorway. That would be a daytime exploration. I was already creeped out enough in this place.

I peered up. Vaulted wooden ceilings soared above me, and a balcony divided the room into two stories. Without more light, I couldn’t quite see what was up there.

Still, despite the eerie shadows, a sense of victory whispered through me. I’m in. I made it into the palace.

Now that I’d gotten a look at the room, I thought I should inspect my own body. I sat on the edge of the bed, using the candle to illuminate myself. Just as I’d hoped, faint tendrils of charcoal glamour still curled off my body. My glamour had maintained, even while I was asleep. That was good news.

Somebody had treated my gunshot wound, and a bandage now covered the hole, tinged with blood underneath. Pain still throbbed through my shoulder.

I blinked with the sudden realization that if I’d ended up in this skimpy nightgown, someone had changed my clothes while I slept.

Kratos? Had Kratos undressed me? In fact, not only was I in a different outfit, but I smelled different—my hair and skin scented of roses and poppies. Someone had bathed me. What the hell? And moreover, what had happened to the knife of Nyxobian silver that had been strapped to my thigh?

My jaw clenched tightly at the violation. And making matters worse, a sentinel drifted past the window in the moonlight, gleaming eyes locked on me.

I crawled back into the bed, sliding the candle across the bedside table. Feeling exposed, I pulled the crimson blankets tighter around me. What have I gotten myself into?

As I clutched the blanket around me, the locked oak door unlatched and creaked open.

A tall, stooped man stood in the doorway, his black hair falling over a high forehead. His pale skin practically gleamed in the light of his lantern. To my complete surprise, he was wearing a pink sweatshirt featuring the grinning image of a gray cat.

He smiled shyly at me. “I saw a light coming from under your door, so I knew you were awake. You slept for a full day, did you know that?” he chirped.

I stared at him as he crossed into the room. Who the hell was this?

“You look better,” he continued. “I mean, you’re not hemorrhaging blood anymore.” He cleared his throat. “Just so you know, it wasn’t me who dressed and bathed you. It was one of the female maids. Kratos said if I did anything untoward, he would gouge out my eyeballs and feed them to the crows.” He huffed a laugh. “He has the funniest turns of phrase. Not that I would do anything untoward anyway.”

I raised my eyebrows, lowering my voice to the sophisticated timbre of a succubus. “Who are you, exactly?”

“Oh! Right. I’m Elan. I serve the angels. I’m a…” he held his hand to his mouth to whisper conspiratorially. “I’m a fae.”

“Is that a secret of some sort?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Well, Adonis might skin me alive if he ever remembered that I existed, so…” He blinked at the moonlight. “You know, sometimes being forgettable has its perks.”

I was beginning to get the impression that Elan might be an excellent source of information. “And who is Adonis?”

His dark eyes widened. “Oh, you don’t know? He’s the one with the dark blue wings.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “He really loves death. I saw him vaporize a shadow demon a few days ago. Just blood and entrails everywhere—” He stopped himself short. “Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear this. It was actually pretty disturbing, now that I think about it.”

Oh, wonderful. So Adonis could vaporize people, and he particularly hated the fae. I should be probing for more information, dizziness clouded my head, and I had a sudden urge to change the subject. In any case, if I could keep Elan friendly, maybe I could learn a lot from him.

“I like your sweatshirt,” I said.

He grinned. “Thanks. It’s the original internet cat. He’s dead.” His smile faded, and he sort of winced. “I’m not good with people.”

My stomach rumbled, and I clutched it. “I know it’s the middle of the night, but I don’t suppose you have anything to eat around here? I slept for a full day, so I’m positively famished.” A succubus had no problem ordering servants around.

He nodded enthusiastically. “One moment.” He hurried out of the room, the door whooshing shut behind him.

At least Elan seemed harmless, and was a relief to be around another fae—even if he had no idea I was just like him.

Elan returned a moment later, his shoulders hunched but a smile on his face. “Food will arrive soon.” He pointed to the arched doorway inset into the wall behind the bed—the room I’d been too scared to explore. “You’ll find the bathroom just there if you need it. Everything will be provided for you here.”

I’d been hoping the arched doorway might lead to a “secret documents with dragon maps” room, but I supposed that was unrealistic.

“We even have a bar in the Tower of Wrath for when… for when you are allowed to leave your room.”

“Wonderful. Tell me, Elan, since I’m a new guest here. What are the angels like?” I asked.

Elan rubbed his forehead. “I’m not sure if I can say. I’m not sure if it would anger them.” He spoke in a furious whisper. “All I can tell you is that they are celestial creatures untainted by our bestial trappings.”

Before I could finish rolling my eyes, a female servant pushed through the door with a tray of steaming food. The air filled with the scent of fresh bread, and my mouth watered in anticipation.

The girl’s dark hair framed a long face, and she smiled nervously. As she slid the food onto the bedside table, her hands shook. Human, this one. The angels seemed like they hated humans, but I supposed they needed someone to serve them.

As she leaned in closer to me, arranging the food on the tray, she whispered so quietly I nearly missed it, “I hid your things.”

Relief flickered through me. Maybe she’d kept my knife safe.

As the girl slowly backed out of the room, I turned to the tray. There before me was a feast that far outshone anything Yasmin had been able to provide while trying to fatten me up. For a moment, I stared at it as if in a dream.

Warm bread lay next to slabs of bacon, the steam curling into the air. Roast potatoes sat beside them. Two hard-boiled eggs had been sliced and seasoned. And for dessert, sugared almonds and a bowl of fruit and custard.

I have died and gone to heaven. Suddenly, infiltrating the home of the death angels seemed like the best decision I’d ever made.

Elan raised his eyebrows. “Is it to your liking?”

“Elan…” I breathed. “This looks amazing.” I began shoveling bacon and potatoes into my mouth.

He grinned. “I oversee the cooking here. I think it’s the only reason they allow a fae to remain in Hotemet Castle. I’ve been a chef in homes such as this since the twelfth century.”

Hotemet Castle. It has a name. For a long moment, I didn’t speak, too focused on the food before me. The rich, savory flavors melted in my mouth, enrapturing me so much that I hardly noticed Elan filling a wineglass.

I closed my eyes, losing myself in the pure pleasure of the food. “This is why the fae remained on Earth,” I muttered.

“What?” Elan asked sharply.

I opened my eyes, jolted from my reverie. “Your race. You’re angels who chose to stay on Earth because you loved the earthly pleasures, the food and the dance. Isn’t that right? You stayed on Earth so you could make delicacies like this.”

“Of course. We each have our own particular skill. Mine is cooking.”

I tore into a buttery piece of fresh bread. “You said the angels allow you to stay here because of your cooking. They eat, then? The angels?”

He nodded.

I honestly didn’t know the first thing about them, but apparently angels on Earth had fully corporeal bodies.

I arched an eyebrow as I chewed. Maybe they’d become like us, then. The fallen—angels lured in and trapped by the temptations of Earth.

Probably best to keep that particular heresy to myself.

Elan straightened. “I’m a high fae. I believe the angels view us as superior. If I were a feral fae…” He mimicked a “throat-slitting” gesture, his eyes widening.

Wonderful. I sipped my wine. “Why? What have they got against those animals? They seem to like hounds, why not the feral fae?”

“They are abominations.” He looked at me gravely. “A hound is simply a hound. A feral fae is an angel in the body of a true beast.”

“Right. I forgot about that. Elan,” I asked. “Why did they tell you I was here?”

“Kratos said you saved his hound. He says that he owes you Culloch’s life, and that we’re supposed to take good care of you.” His throat bobbed. “I can’t promise everyone else will be as welcoming as I am.”

“And who do I need to look out for, can you tell me that?”

A heavy silence filled the room, and Elan looked around himself nervously. I speared a flaky potato and brought it to my mouth, waiting for Elan’s answer. I had the feeling he wanted to help me, but these people scared the shit out of him.

After a moment, he took a few nervous steps closer, then pressed his hand to one side of his mouth. He mouthed a word that looked something like Johnny.

That couldn’t be right.

I cleared my throat, whispering, “Did you say ‘Johnny’?”

He lifted a finger, shushing me, then nodded.

“And who is he?” I asked.

Elan stole a quick glance at the window, and in the darkened skies outside, I saw the gleaming of a sentinel drifting by. A chill rippled over my skin.

When the sentinel had passed, Elan turned to me and mimicked flying wings with his arms.

An angel? So there was an angel here named Johnny. Seemed awfully modern.

Elan bowed his head. “I have to go now.”

He cast another nervous glance at the window. “Have a good night, then. You’ll want to rest more. They’ll all want to speak to you in the morning.”

Goosebumps rose on my skin. All of them: Kratos, Johnny—and Adonis.

As he walked to the door, I called out, “Elan. Tomorrow, do you think we could keep the fire lit? It’s dark and drafty in here.”

“Sure. Sleep well.”

When he closed the door, I almost regretted his departure—maybe it was his unassuming personality, or maybe it was the lantern he’d carried with him.

All I knew was I’d have to permanently perform here. An angel’s interest could be explained by only one thing. I was supposed to be seductive and alluring. It would be a dangerous line to walk—luring them in just enough, without pulling them in too far. I wasn’t going to sleep with Kratos, but I had to keep his interest just enough for him to want me around.

I couldn’t let them know what I really was. A fallen angel in the body of a feral beast. An abomination.