Carnival of Souls

GAZE FIXED ON EVELYN, Mallory walked toward the main entrance of the office building. It was odd that her aunt was waiting at the door, but it wasn’t as if Evelyn was ever what Mallory thought of as normal. Adam could blend with humans, but Evelyn seemed somehow other.

A strange prickling began at the edges of her body, as if her nerves extended into the air around her. The feeling grew until it was more painful than uncomfortable. “What’s happening?”

Evelyn beckoned her forward. “My brother is not in this world, Mallory.”

“Stop!” Kaleb reached for her hand, but before he could touch her, he was flung away. He hit Belias, and the two daimons fell together.

Aya snarled. “Don’t touch them again.”

As Mallory turned her head to look at the daimons struggling to get back up from the crumpled heap, her vision seemed noticeably sharper. The color spectrum was wider somehow; tones and shades of hues she’d never seen were mixed in with the normal scope of her vision. She took another step toward her aunt.

“Is there some sort of spell?” She sounded different too. As she spoke, she heard depths in her voice that hadn’t been present until now. “Is this to help me?”

“No,” Evelyn answered. “I couldn’t care less about you, Mallory. Unlike my brother, I can’t overlook your parentage.”

“I know you disliked my mother—”

“I hated her and your father,” Evelyn said.

Mallory flexed her fingers. A strange pressure filled her, and the need to stretch out was akin to a full body cramp. “You hate your brother? Did you—”

“No,” Evelyn interrupted. “I hate your father.”

“You know who my birth father is?” Mallory stared at the witch as she confirmed the hatred Mallory had long suspected. “Who? And what does that have to do with Dad? And what are you doing to me?”

“Marchosias,” Kaleb answered quietly from beside her. “You’re his daughter.”

A horrible clarity hit her. She knew exactly what Adam had stolen, understood why he never told her, and she knew why he wouldn’t return it. With dread Mallory looked from Kaleb to Evelyn to Aya and Belias, who were standing on the other side of her now. Her gaze returned to Evelyn. “My father is a daimon? So I’m a half-daimon?”

“No,” Evelyn answered. “You’re all daimon. Selah was a daimon, a Watcher, and your father is a cur. You’re not half anything; you’re all abomination.”

The sensations in her body were foreign, as if parts of her were just now present. She lifted her hand to touch her teeth, but could only stare as she realized that her fingernails were gone. In their place were thick, curved talons like a bird of prey would have. She kept her hand upraised and stared at them as they shifted into something that looked more like claws.

Lips closed, she ran her tongue over her teeth. They felt different, longer and sharper.

Suddenly Kaleb stood behind her. He put one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip. He whispered, “Concentrate on what you want to be, Mallory. Your teeth will not change unless you want them to.”

Mallory looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m a daimon.”

He nodded.

“You knew all along.” She didn’t wait for his answer; she saw it in his eyes. Slowly, she looked from his sorrow-filled gaze to Evelyn again. “This is why you’ve always hated me.”

“My brother has spent the last seventeen years hiding. At first, I accepted it. You were to be useful, a weapon against them.” Evelyn smiled as she reminisced. “He didn’t seek you out, but when I found the daimon who bore you, I sent her to him. He knew precisely what to do. He bound your nature, raised you to hate and kill daimons. Then, we would send you back — a perfect little killer.” Her eyes glimmered as she spoke. “My killer was already there, awaiting the time when she would know what she was. I planned. I bled. I killed for this… and then Adam announced that he would not send you back, that he considered you his daughter, that he loved you.” Evelyn stared at Mallory with eyes that were identical to Adam’s. “The spells kept you from being as strong as you are. They’re undone. You have guides. Go get my brother. He is in their world.”

She looked briefly at Aya, and then she spoke some sort of spell and disappeared.

Mallory didn’t know how to respond — not to Evelyn, not to the truth of where Adam was or what he had done. All she could do was stand there silently as the feelings in her body became clearer. Layers of witchery were being stripped away: Adam had wrapped her in magic, hiding her from even herself. It felt like waking up. She wanted to stretch until her body was alert.

I’m the thing that witches hate.

She turned to face the witch-daimon, her daimon familiar, and the daimon who had professed love to her. They knew. They had all known. She wasn’t sure if that meant she trusted them more… or less. The only thing that she was sure of was that she had new strengths that would help her retrieve her father from the daimon world — and from the daimon who apparently was her birth father.

“I’m going to find my father,” she said, as much to herself as to them.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

GRATITUDE MUST GO TO the band Five Finger Death Punch. The phrase “carnival of souls” in their song “Far from Home” was the spark that started my blurry, no-sleep-for-days dive into this book. Thank you so much for that spark, the generous use of your art, and — most of all — for your trips to Iraq and Kuwait to play for our troops.

Equally important appreciation goes to my agent, Merrilee Heifetz, who barely blinked when I called and said, “I have a confession: I accidentally wrote half a novel,” and to the folks at HarperCollins US and UK who adjusted quickly to the sudden surprise of an unscheduled novel in a year I didn’t have one due.

Many thanks go to my writers/friends (Jeaniene Frost, Kelley Armstrong, Margaret Stohl, and Jeannette Battista), who read and discussed the book with me, and to my children (Dylan and Asia), who also offered insights.

Equal thanks to my assistant, Donna, who proofreads, schedules, and keeps me caffeinated.

Thank you to the Rathers, who helped me create the playlist for this book (especially Em, Kimmie, Matthi, and Zaira+Zire). I can’t write without music, and without your help, this book wouldn’t have unfurled as quickly as it did.

And continued thanks to all of you for reading the novels and for sending such lovely letters. Even though I don’t reply to all of you, I do read every email and letter I receive.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Melissa Marr is the author of the New York Times bestselling Wicked Lovely series and GRAVEMINDER, as well as a manga series (Wicked Lovely: Desert Tales) and various short stories. She is also the coeditor, with Kelley Armstrong, of the anthology ENTHRALLED: Paranormal Diversions. When not writing, editing, or traveling, Melissa is buried under a plethora of books, dogs, and children in Virginia or online at www.melissa-marr.com.

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

AUTHOR’S NOTE