Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
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My memory came rushing back in fragments, a mess of confusing moments and thoughts and images from the time I'd stayed at the Szarvases as a kid, ten years old, and falling head over heels for a spoiled daughter.
A young girl in a servant's uniform had pitched over where the edge of the lawn met the graveled ground. Her exposed skin, grazed by small, sharp stones, had been scraped raw and bleeding. At the time I was annoyed and fucked off because she'd disturbed my pursuit of Irma.
My fingers had wrapped around her arms and I'd rolled her onto her back. She'd been a few years younger than me, dirty and sweaty with sharp cheekbones. Her shoes were muddy, and there were leaves stuck in her hair as well as spider webs that crossed her shoulders.
Guilt churned through me. Sirro was right, I should feel ashamed that I'd never remembered Tabitha. As a kid, I had been too consumed with eagerness to hunt the beast that had killed her mother to bother about the actual girl herself. To me, a son of a Lower House, she was merely a servant, no one of consequence. Yet, as I opened my eyes to face Sirro's rebuking expression, Tabitha had been, and still was, someone of importance.
"Do you remember her now?" Sirro asked, a sharp edge to his tone as well as gleaming in his golden eyes.
"It was a long time ago," I replied, my voice rough and hoarse. I hadn't recognized Tabitha as the older version of her younger self, because at the time I'd dismissed the girl's worth, and immediately demanded to go along with the Szarvas's hunting party to search for her missing mother.
Gods, I was a fucking asshole.
Sirro pushed into motion, his Familiar matching his footsteps in her high heels. My leggy stride easily caught up with the Horned God and bypassed him to reach the iron gates. The hinges creaked as I opened it up, allowing Sirro to go first before following, shutting the gate behind me with a heavy clank.
As we continued down the path and neared the front of the mansion, noises could be heard coming from the driveway—the purr of engines, footfall and voices, car doors shutting, and trunks popping open.
"From what I remember, the Szarvases tracked the beast's scent from the lawn back into the forest. It seemed it had been hunting Miss Catt, trying to run her down as she fled back home, but in the ever-expanding tree line, the Szarvases lost all trace of the beast—a lesser creature they assumed." And at the time, I'd been inclined to believe them.
The next morning, just as dawn rose, I'd stolen out myself, armed with blades. I'd suspected that the beast had traveled from tree to tree, but an early morning shower had washed away all trace of any scent that might have lingered.
I'd put my Crowther preternatural hunting talents to use and after a few hours, I'd found a clearing. There'd been scuffing amongst the leaf-littered forest floor, broken trees and branches, an indentation where a young girl had lain amongst pine needles, but no sign whatsoever of Asta Catt.
