Page 72 of Reap & Sow

“You know what to do.”

As if on cue, a horn bellowed from without the keep. The warning fires were lit, and now everyone knew it.

“Tripp lives to serve, m’lord.” He took off running on all fours and scurried up the wall like an oversize spider, disappearing around the corner.

For all that Blades were trained on matters of the demonic, many went their whole lives without actually seeing a creature from the Otherworld. The sight of Tripp skittering about with his glittering black eyes and needle-sharp mouth would be an awful fright.

“Sure he’ll be all right?”

Kit dragged the guards down the spiral staircase like sacks of flour. “He’ll keep them busy as long as he can, but he’s not foolish. When he returns, we’ll know our time is up.”

They descended beneath the earth in a hurry. Around and around they went, down stone steps sagging in the middle from centuries of passing footsteps. Eda’s entire body was a live nerve, raw with adrenaline. Her breaths came fast and shallow. So close. She prayed that Tripp would prove a convincing enough distraction. That the Blades would believe the imp alone had set off the fires, at least for a little while.

They reached an iron gate built into another archway. Beyond was a long room, hewn from the basalt beneath the keep. Firelight glanced off cell bars. How many wretched souls had wasted away here in the dark, awaiting the noose? She could hardly reconcile that her own brothers were among them.

Kit transformed in a black swirl and scurried through the gate on tiny paws. He changed back. “Do either of them have keys?”

She rummaged in the guards’ red livery, palms sweating. “I can’t—I can’t feel anything.” Don’t start panicking. Hold it together.

“Sod it.” Kit grabbed the gate in both hands. With a grimace, he planted his feet and pulled. The bars slowly widened. His face twisted with effort, fangs bared.

Eda knew he was strong, but not like this. Her heart skittered foolishly at the raw primality of it.

When the gap was big enough she squeezed through, but a voice stopped her dead.

“You there—who are you?” A Blade appeared around the far corner of the room. He drew a short sword.

Eda didn’t realize Kit had transformed again until something hissed at her ankle. A dark shape shot past her, one she’d never seen before.

A serpent.

Thick as both her arms combined and many times longer, its iridescent oil-black body swept over the stone with breathtaking speed. His fifth form.

The Blade paled. “What the fu—”

Kit struck. The Blade was quick, jerking aside just in time. He spun and brought his sword down hard. Eda gasped, but Kit lurched clear with a terrible seething sound. Fangs sank into the man’s sword arm. He screamed, grabbed at the snake’s undulating body, tried to tear it off. Kit only used the distraction to wrap himself around the Blade’s torso, pinning his arms. Tighter and tighter he squeezed as the man struggled and fell to one knee, gasping. Kit’s great jaw unhinged and he bit down again—on the man’s neck. The Blade gurgled, spasmed, mouth flapping like a dying fish.

Eda turned her back. She grimaced, guilt like poison in her gut. Kit sought out beauty and refinement, but he dealt so easily in blood. This was the truth of him: a demon as comfortable with violence as he was dancing merrily about a bonfire. It was so easy to forget.

She tried to tune out the sound of snapping bone and tearing flesh, running along the cells. “Ben! Lawrie!”

“Eda?”

It was so faint, at first she thought she’d mistaken it for her own labored breath. From the gloom, a drawn face shuffled forward, streaked with days-old grime.

Eda’s knees almost gave out. “Lawrie.”

She stumbled to the cell door. Reached for him. He pressed his face to the bars, and she couldn’t help but cup his cheek to make sure he was real. His hazel eyes were bloodshot. When his visage wavered she realized she was crying.

“Eda, how—what are you doing here?”

He was here. Right in front of her. “I came to get you out.”

A figure moved over Lawrie’s shoulder. Her breath caught.

Ben’s hair was greasy, one of his eyes swollen.

Eda trembled. “Ben.”