Mera walked jarringly across the road. Eyes dark and glazed. Leading Traps.

Horses neighed as drivers tugged rein to keep from running her over.

Mera shoved people from her path until arriving in the alley. Reaching Nora, Meralee jerked Nora’s dress straight, tugging her skirt down. She handed Nora Traps’ rein.

“Where’d you replace him?” Nora asked faintly.

Blinking rapidly Mera’s head turned to meet Nora’s look. But she said nothing.

“I-I was looking for him. He was here.” Nora gestured down at her feet. Words slurring, and eyes wide and unblinking. She turned progressively paler. “Thank you for coming Mera. How-how’d you know?”

“Know what Nore?” Meralee snapped crueler than she intended.

“That...I needed your help?”

Opening her mouth several times, Mera looked around the alley. “I can’t-I don’t…Remember.” She’d no answer to offer.

Worthington Estate, Meadowbrook, Grier Country

As evening drew a black cape over the Worthington Estate, Deragan prowled close enough to hear Worthington’s mindless ranting. Scolding any soul unfortunate enough to cross his path. Only his precious hound, Maxine, was spared his fury.

From the other side of the glass, Deragan smirked. Making a clucking sound in his cheek at the man’s frustration.

Truthfully, Deragan was contemplating killing the boy even now.

He watched Worthington from across the lawn and through his window. The boy stroked his beloved dog.

Not yet. Deragan told himself. Radix doesn’t own him yet.

He tried to rape her! His soul screamed in outrage against the logic.

Deragan badly wanted to kill him. Picturing his hands crushing the man’s weak throat. Wouldn’t take long.

Taking a calming breath, Deragan caught the scent of damp undergrowth and rodents slick with frost. Wind pressed his back, but he was immune to the cold. It was still Fall but the weather already chilled this time of evening.

Glancing up, he was moved by the moon’s emerging brightness. She lives. And as always, the light was a balm for his tormented soul. As long as it shines, she’ll return. If her light was ever fully doused the moon would no longer rise and fall for her.

Mist seeping into the library drew Deragan’s attention. Unsurprisingly the haze congealed into the wan body of the demon. Radix.

Deragan’s teeth gnashed at the sight of him. Fine hairs on his body crawled.

Worthington called his hound, Maxine. Catching her collar, he pushed her out the library door. Walking behind his desk he grunted as he flopped into it.

“Radix.” He sounded relieved.

Relief too early. The demon is furious.

Rapid breathing made Radix’s frail shoulders heave.

Outside, Deragan’s breaths were foggy pants. Fists clenching aggressively. Hatred for the demon searing through him and burning his heart black. One day I’ll stand over his body until the last vestiges of life fade from those bleak eyes. His vow kept him going. But with it, blind rage grew like a sapling tree. Flourishing and spanning through every part of Deragan’s being.

Another shadow stepped from the corner of the room and blocked part of the view of the window. A man’s back.

Crossed blades covered it with slick black hair tethered to hang between the sheaths. A large black crow perched on his shoulder, leaning as far from Radix as possible.

Chavias. Deragan grimaced. Shit.

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