Page 5 of The Monsters We Are

Outside, she sidled up to Cain as she glanced up at the sky. Her mouth fell open. “What in the . . .” A cloud had formed, a face flickering within it like a static holographic image. A face Wynter recognized and would truly like to rearrange with a shovel someday. Her inner monster stirred, opening its eyes, not liking what it saw.

“D’you think it’s God?” asked Hattie.

“No,” replied Delilah. “I think we’re looking at somethingfarfrom holy.”

Anabel grasped Wynter’s hand. “So this is how we die.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake. “We’re not going to die, and it’s not God.”

“Then who is it?” asked Xavier.

“People of Devil’s Cradle,” a booming voice crackled as the mouth of the face within the cloud moved. “For those who do not know me, I am Adam, the last ruling Aeon.”

Anabel’s eyes went wide. “Wait, he’s here?”

“No,” said Cain, though his gaze remained on the cloud. “Think of this as a news broadcast. We see him. He doesn’t see us.”

“I’m no doubt the last person you all wish to hear from,” Adam went on, his voice both compassionate and reasonable, “but I did not trust that this message would reach you unless I delivered it personally. The Ancients tell you only what they want you to hear.”

There was some truth in that. Actually, there was a lot of truth in that. But the Aeons were just as bad for only revealing what they wished to reveal, so . . .

“I do not want war,” Adam added. “I never did, in truth. All I originally wanted was for the witch who cursed my land to be handed over to me. Simple. Easy. Fair.”

He wouldn’t know what fair was if it slapped him in the face and force-fed him a cracker.

“Imagine if your own town was rotting,” he continued. “You would want the person responsible to undo their curse, would you not? It was all I asked; it was not unreasonable. But your leaders refused to surrender Wynter Dellavale to me, and so blood was spilled in your town. I want no more of that. Enough people have died on both sides, including my son.” The latter word reverberated with anger and grief. “But Iwillbring pain and suffering to your town if my needs are not met—I want Cain and Wynter to surrender themselves to the custody of my people. If they do, everyone else will then be left alone.”

Her stomach lurched. She looked up at Cain, but his eyes were fixed on the image in the sky.

“Until they appear at Aeon, I will punish the town of Devil’s Cradle itself at random times, and others will die,” Adam went on. “You may wonder what I mean by that or how exactly I would achieve it. You will never have to find out if my terms are met. My offer is a kindness. Two individuals are not worth the lives of so many.”

Wynter noticed in her peripheral vision that plenty of people were glancing her way. Hopefully they weren’t contemplating doing as Adam requested. Because she’d otherwise have to kill them, and that would be a bummer.

“I do hope for your sake that Cain and the witch make the right choice,” Adam went on. “But my feeling is that they will not, and so you may well have to take the matter into your own hands. I will pay one million dollars to anyone who delivers either Cain or the witch to mealive.”

Son of a bitch.

“Give me both, and I will award you two million,” Adam added. “Give me neither, and you will all pay for that mistake.”

The image of Adam’s face flickered and wavered. Eventually, it winked out, and then the cloud slowly dissipated.

Swiping a tongue over her lower lip, Wynter turned to Cain. “Well, this could be a problem.”

Cain sighed. “Yes, yes it could.”

Chapter Two

As the seven Ancients sat around Cain’s dining table a short time later, he and Azazel relayed the incident that brought the night’s celebration to a screeching halt. Cain kept his voice cool and calm, pushing down the rage that threatened to fog his thoughts. It was no easy thing when said rage relentlessly crawled through his blood and simmered low in his belly.

Beneath the table, he flexed his fingers. A bounty. Fucking Adam had put a bounty on Wynter’s head. Again. Like once hadn’t been enough.

Cain supposed he couldn’t complaintoomuch about the first bounty. After all, it had pushed her to seek sanctuary. It had brought her to Devil’s Cradle, brought her tohim. Cain could never lament that. Selfish, maybe, but he was often that way where his consort was concerned. She thankfully let it slide much of the time.

He wouldn’t have imagined that he’d ever wish to claim a consort. But then, he never would have thought that anyone—man or woman—could make themselves indispensable to him. Wynter . . . she was vital to him. As necessary as breathing. Something he would never give up.

He’d been so numb before her. So detached from the world that he’d ceased to want things. Nothing had entertained, intrigued, or brought him any true satisfaction. Wynter had walked into his world, sliced through the listlessness, and settled into his life as easily as if it had been preordained.

He liked to believe that the latter was true. Liked to believe that she’d been made specifically for him. Because it often felt like she was.