Tangled Webs

already informed Mrs. Beale that I won’t be home for dinner.” Informed Beale, actually. He’d hadn’t wanted to be the one to tell Mrs. Beale—and her meat cleaver—just in case she’d already begun preparations for the evening meal. “After I return, I’m available for whatever help you want with your spooky house.”
    Her smile was female. Feline. More than a little bit terrifying.
    “I’ll look forward to it,” she said.
    Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful.
    After Jaenelle walked out of the study, he sat there for several minutes, giving himself time to grow some bone back into his legs and strap some steel to his spine.
    He’d made a promise to his Queen. To his wife. And he would keep it.
    But he had another promise to keep first.

    Pressed into a corner, Jarvis Jenkell curled up a little tighter.
    Her little surprises are now more in keeping with your intentions for this house. They all have teeth. That’s what Sadi had said about Tersa’s illusions. And he’d been right.
    The beetles. The spiders. Even the skeleton mice.
    The beetles were the worst. Swarming all over him whenever he tried to rest, swelling up, and then…Those teeth ! Biting through his clothes. Biting through his skin. Chewing their way into him. Then gone, leaving no marks, no trace. But his flesh remembered the sensation, the pain. Just like the flesh remembered…
    No scuff of shoe on wood. No sound at all. But he knew he was no longer alone. Knew what was going to happen. Again. Knew the pleasure would be as cold-blooded and merciless as the pain.
    And no longer knew which was worse to endure.
    The Sadist had arrived.
    “Let this end,” Jarvis whispered. “I’m begging you. Let this end.”
    The Sadist stared at him, a measuring regard.
    “Yes,” Daemon said softly. “The debt to the SaDiablo family has been paid in full.” He took a step toward Jarvis. Took another. “Now it’s time to pay the debt you owe the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan.”

    Witchfire took the house, and it burned fast and hard. Witchfire formed a carpet where grass had once grown, and burned fierce enough to partially melt the wrought-iron fence that surrounded the property.
    Witchfire, fueled by a Black Jewel, burned through the spells and consumed the power that remained in the Blood who had been trapped in the house; it finished the kill and freed them to become a whisper in the Darkness.
    With one exception.
    The boy sneaked glances at the Warlord Prince who had rescued him from the house. The Prince had said he was the Eyrien Prince’s brother, and the boy wasn’t about to call him a liar—even if this Prince didn’t have wings.
    Besides, even though the man hadn’t done anything to him , the boy was pretty sure this Prince was even scarier than the Eyrien Prince.
    “Will I have to go to school?” the boy asked. “I’m dead, so I shouldn’t have to go to school.”
    “That’s something you’ll have to discuss with the High Lord,” the Prince said.
    “Oh.”
    The man’s eyes were glazed, and the boy had been taught to avoid Warlord Princes when their eyes were glazed because that’s when they were the most dangerous. But since he’d ended up dead because the Jenkell man had tricked him into coming to the spooky house, he figured it was better to ask about things now.
    “I like learning about some stuff,” the boy offered.
    A little warmth came into those cold eyes. “Then you should mention that.” The Prince looked at the villagers who were running toward the fire. “Come on, puppy. It’s time to leave.”
    He followed the Prince to the small Coach—and hoped the place he was going would be nicer than the spooky house.
    Even if he did have to go to school.

    Saetan felt the cold ripples in the abyss, rising up from the depth of the Black, and knew what was coming. Who was coming.
    He set aside the stack of books he’d been cataloging and looked at Geoffrey. “Why don’t you go into the other room and warm up some yarbarah for us?”
    “Why would I need to go into the other room?” Following the direction of Saetan’s gaze, Geoffrey looked at the door. Then he retreated to the small room that served as his office.
    Saetan waited. Felt the storm coming closer.
    When he’d heard what had happened in that Dhemlan village, he’d known why it was Lucivar who had come to the Keep to give him a report. And he’d known why—and when—Daemon would walk through that door.
    The door