Kresley Cole: Demon from the Dark

"Why me?"

"You're from the enchantress caste of witches, and you're attractive. The males on that plane have probably never seen a female like you."

"That plane? Honey, try this universe. Oh, and easily this room ."

"We have your history as well," Dixon snapped, losing patience with her. "In your forty-nine years of life, you've routinely done things that are very brave—and very stupid. This should suit you perfectly."

No argument there. And she'd only grown bolder since she'd become fully immortal twenty-three years before. "Why can't you go and get him yourselves?"

"He's sequestered in deep mines within a mountain and has choked the few passes with traps. He guards his domain ruthlessly. If we can't take him out, we can lead him out."

With her playing the part of Delilah? Don't think so. "As much as I appreciate the invitation to help out with your vemon-retrieval problem, I'm afraid I'm going to have to R.S.V.F.U."

Over his shoulder, Chase said, "Is that your final decision?"

"Yep. Even if I wanted to help you, I'm not special-ops—I'm front line." She was a general among her kind, leading armies of spellcasters. "So if you've got some urban warfare, we can talk. But not so much with the tromping around on a mountain in a hell plane." Carrow loathed the outdoors, Gulf Coast beaches excepted.

Chase said, "We thought you might be misguided in this." Were his pupils dilated? "I have something that will give you perspective." He crossed to an intercom panel on the wall, pressing a button beside it.

That concealed panel door slid open once more, and Fegley walked in. He had his arms full—with a young girl, unconscious and limp in his hold. Her mane of long black hair covered her face. She had on a dark T-shirt and leggings, a tiny black puff tutu, and miniature combat boots.

Carrow felt a stab of foreboding. Don't let it be Ruby. She glared at Chase. "You're taking kids prisoner?" How many little girls dress like that?

Fegley sneered, "When one of them tortures and murders twenty soldiers?" Then he tossed the girl to Carrow.

She dove forward to catch her, shooting the man a killing look before gazing down. Don't be her.

Carrow hissed in a breath. Ruby. A seven-year-old from her own coven, related to her by blood.

"Where's her mother?" Amanda, a warrior-caste witch, would never have been separated from her little girl. "Answer me, you prick!"

Fegley snidely said, "She lost her head."

Amanda dead? "I'd already planned to end you, Fegley," Carrow choked out. "Now I'm going to make it slow ."

Fegley merely shrugged and sauntered out, making Carrow grit her teeth with frustration. In the past, she could have electrocuted him with a touch of her hand, could've rendered him to dust as an afterthought.

Struggling to get her emotions under control, she turned her attention back to the child, petting her face. "Ruby, wake up!"

Nothing.

Dixon said, "She's only sedated."

Carrow gathered the girl closer. Her breaths and heartbeat did sound regular. "Ruby, sweet, open your eyes." Of all the young witches for them to have...

Within the coven, there were tanda, social groups of similar ages. Ruby was in a group of baby witches, or a "gang" as they called themselves—a gang more in the sense of Little Rascals than of Crips and Bloods, but it was cute.

Carrow and Mariketa often took them to sweets shops, getting them jacked up on sucrose before setting them loose on the coven. Ring the doorbell, drop them off, then run like hell, cackling all the way.

Carrow and Mariketa—Crow and Kettle, as they'd been dubbed—were the gang's favorite "aunts." Ruby was secretly Carrow's favorite as well. How could she not be? Ruby was fearless and bright, an adorable little girl dressed in ballerina punk.

Dixon frowned. "She could pass as your own."

Like many in a coven, Carrow and Ruby were related, though more closely than usual. The girl was her second cousin, and she belonged to the exact three castes that Carrow did, with her strength in the warrior caste. Just like me.

Ruby's green eyes blinked open. "Crow?"

"I'm right here, sweetheart." When Ruby's tears welled, Carrow felt a pang like a blade in her heart. "I've got you."

Ruby's body tensed against hers. Eyes wild, she cried, "Mommy t-told me not to kill them! B-but when they hurt her, it ... it just happened." She was beginning to pant, her breaths shallowing.

"Shh, you're all right now. Just breathe easy." When Ruby got overly excited, she would hyperventilate, even passing out on occasion. "It's okay, everything's going to be all right," Carrow lied, rocking her. "Just breathe."

"They swung a sword at her neck!" Her chest heaved for air. "I saw her ... d-die. She's dead —" Ruby went limp once more and her head fell back. Unconscious.

"Ruby! Ah, gods." Amanda was truly gone? And Ruby's father had been murdered by rogue warlocks before she'd even been born.

Orphan.

The coven didn't usually spell out things like godparents or custody. Immortals not actively at war didn't have to worry much about leaving behind orphans. But if Amanda had gone to battle, she would have expected the closest blood relation in the coven to care for her daughter.

That'd be Carrow, the House hellion. Poor Ruby.

Though Carrow had been treated so callously by her own parents, she would do right by her responsibilities. She stared down at the girl's ashen face with a new recognition, a momentous feeling of a shared future.

Carrow had long had a unique and curious talent—the ability to sense when another had just become a part of her life forever, when their destinies would eventually be intertwined and shared.

In that instant, Carrow became witch plus one .

But she couldn't even get herself out of this shithole, much less a child!

"Action and reaction," Chase said. "You get us our target, and the two of you will go free." Though tension thrummed off him, his voice was monotone, his accent barely perceptible. "Otherwise, she dies."

Carrow stiffened. Against Ruby's hair, she murmured, "I'm going to take you home soon, baby." She turned to Chase. "I'll have the use of my powers?"

"Your torque will be deactivated for the mission," he said.

Not that Carrow would be able to spellcast even without her torque. She needed crowds and laughter for power to fuel her spells. Here she'd been tapped out, as useless as an empty keg.

"You'll depart tomorrow, remaining in Oblivion for six days." Dixon continued over Carrow's sputtering, "Tonight I'll assist you in collecting your gear. You'll be allowed a shower, and we'll provide you with a dossier on your target."

"Nearly a week in hell? How am I even supposed to get to Oblivion?"

Dixon answered, "Your sorceress cellmate, Melanthe, the Queen of Persuasion, can create a portal."

That's right. Lanthe could open thresholds to anywhere.

"We'll briefly deactivate her torque—under SWAT supervision. And of course, we'll keep Ruby here to make sure all goes according to our plans."

There went that idea. "I want Lanthe and Regin released as well."

The doctor shook her head. "Impossible."

If they truly set Carrow free, then she'd come back for the two of them soon enough. "I want the Order's word about releasing me and Ruby."

The woman said, "You have it."

"Don't want yours," Carrow said in a scoffing tone. "I want his ."

Chase turned to her once more. After a hesitation, he gave a nod.

"Then we have a deal," Carrow said.

He narrowed his eyes, as if she'd just proven a point. "Not even a qualm about betraying one of your own species?"