Dance of the Gods (Circle Trilogy 2)

“Soon, my precious lamb.”

“I’m tired of being here.” Voice petulant, he kicked at the shale.

Larkin could see he had the face of a little imp—round and sweet.

“I wish I had a kitty. Please, can’t I have a kitty cat? I wouldn’t eat it like last time.”

“That’s what you said about the puppy,” she reminded him with a quick, gay laugh. “But we’ll see. But how about this? I’ll let one out for you, and it can run through the caves. You can chase it down, hunt it down. Won’t that be fun?”

When he grinned, moonlight sent the dusting of freckles on his chubby cheeks into relief. And glinted on his fangs. “Can I have t

wo?”

“So greedy.” She kissed him, and not, Larkin saw with a sick revulsion, in the way a mother kisses a son. “That’s what I love about you, my own true love. Let’s go inside then, and you can pick out the ones you want.”

Behind the rock, Larkin changed. A sleek, dark rat darted inside the caves behind the sweep of Lilith’s long skirts.

He could smell death, and see the things that moved in the dark. Things that bowed when Lilith glided by.

There was little light—only a scatter of torches clamped to the walls here and there. But as they moved deeper there was a faint green tinge to the light he felt was unnatural. Magic, he knew, just as he knew this magic wasn’t clean and white.

She drifted through the maze of it, holding the boy’s hand as he trotted at her side. Vampires scuttled up the walls like spiders, or hung from the ceiling like bats.

He could only hope they weren’t overly interested in snacking on rat blood.

He followed the swish of Lilith’s robes, and kept to the dark corners.

The sounds of unspeakable human suffering began to echo.

“What sort do you want, my darling?” Lilith swung his arm with hers as if they were on an outing to a fair and a promised treat. “Something young and lean, or perhaps something with a little more flesh?”

“I don’t know. I want to look in their eyes first. Then I’ll know.”

“Clever boy. You make me proud.”

There were more cages than he’d imagined, and the sheer horror had him struggling to stay in form. He wanted to spring into a man, grab a sword from one of the guards, and start hacking.

He would take down a few of them, and that might be worth dying for. But he would never get any of the people out.

Blair had warned him, but he hadn’t fully believed.

The boy had dropped his mother’s hand and now strolled, hands behind his back, pacing up and down the length of the cages. A child eyeing treats at the baker’s, Larkin thought.

Davey stopped, pursing his lips as he studied a young woman huddled in the corner of a cage. She seemed to be singing, or perhaps she was praying, for the words were unintelligible. But Larkin could see her eyes were already dead.

“This one wouldn’t be any fun to hunt.” Even when Davey poked at her through the bars, she sat passively. “She’s not afraid anymore.”

“Sometimes they go mad. Their minds are weak, after all, like their bodies.” Lilith gestured to another cage. “What about this one?”

The man in it was rocking a woman who was either asleep or unconscious. There was blood on her neck, and her face was pale as wax.

“Bitch. You bitch, what have you done to her? I’ll kill you.”

“Now this one’s got some life left in him!” With a broad grin, Lilith tossed back her gilded mane of hair. “What do you think, my sweetie?”

Davey cocked his head, then shook it. “He won’t run. He won’t want to leave the female.”

“Why, Davey, you’re so perceptive.” She crouched down, kissing his cheeks with obvious pride. “Such a big boy, and so wise.”