He could be the monster, if that kept others human.
August had killed Harker so that Kate wouldn’t have to. He hadn’t relished the murder, but it wouldn’t stain his soul, not the way it would have hers. It hadn’t been just about the sinner in the end, it was about the sin itself, the shadow that ate away a human’s light.
And August wasn’t human.
He wasn’t made of flesh and bone, or starlight.
He was made of darkness.
Leo had been right about one thing—it was time for August to accept what he was.
And embrace it.
The house beyond the Waste lay empty, except for the corpse.
In the bathroom down the hall, the faucet still dripped into the half-filled tub.
The blue front door hung open on its hinges, and loose leaves blew in across the threshold.
The sun was going down, stretching shadows across the wooden floor.
Most of the shadows stood still, but one began to crawl, spreading like the pool of blood, now stiff, away from the body and up the wall. It stretched, and twisted, and drew itself upright, off the blood-flecked wall and into the room.
She was tall and thin, with pointed nails that shone like metal, and eyes that glowed like cigarettes.
The monster stepped over the corpse and wandered down the hall, into the bathroom where the pieces of a violin lay strewn across the floor. She toed the shards of wood, the broken wire, saw her reflection in the mirror, and flashed a smile full of silver teeth. In the bedroom at the end of the hall, she found a photograph of a man and a woman, with a girl between them. The man and the woman meant nothing to the Malchai, but the girl she recognized.
She took the photo and left, humming as she stepped out into the dark, crossed the gravel path and the field beyond. The monster ran her hands over the wild grass as she made her way to the glint of the distant warehouse, following the scent of blood and death.
She found the first Malchai in the passageway with his heart ripped out. She stepped over him, and made her way toward the second one. He was lying in a pool of light, a metal bar speared through him, suit and skin and bone.
Suit and skin and bone . . . but not heart.
She cocked her head, considering, then took hold of the blood-slicked pole and drew it free with a wet scrape.
The Malchai didn’t move.
Nothing, nothing, and then a sudden rattling sound escaped the monster’s chest, and his red eyes flicked open. He sat up and spit a mouthful of black blood onto the concrete before tipping back his head and looking up at her.
“What is your name, little Malchai?”
She thought about it for a long second, waiting for a name to surface. And then it did, welling up like blood, and she answered, “Alice.”
The Malchai’s lips curled into a wicked smile, and he began to laugh, the sound ringing through the warehouse like a song.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Every time I sit down to write acknowledgments, I freeze. Not because there are so few to thank, but because there are so many, and I know with increasing dread that the harder I try to remember them all, the more of them I will forget. With that in mind, I have taken to using broad strokes, but know that every single reader, supporter, friend, fan, has a hand in this book, and in every book.
To my mother and father. Ten books later, and you still haven’t given up on me, or told me to get a real job. I promise never to put you in a book.
To my agent, Holly Root, for your steadfast support and serious hustle. You are the best champion, and I’m so glad that you’re mine.
To my editor, Martha Mihalick, for being both a sharp editor and a lovely person, and for demanding the best I can give. It’s an honor to work with you.
To my entire team at Greenwillow, from the designers to the marketing and publicity stars. To my UK team at Titan, from Miranda Jewess to Lydia Gittins and so many more.
To the six C’s who keep me afloat, three on each side of the ocean. You are my buoys, my bests.
To my housemate Jenna, for somehow turning random ingredients into delicious meals, and for reminding me to leave the house.
To the incredible network of writers and readers in the Nashville area, for making this community a true joy to be a part of.
And most of all, to my readers. Through thick and thin, high and low, you’re with me.