Roz turned her attention to Maria; there was no sign of any damage, but despite that, she looked worse than Ryan. Her shirt was ripped, so she clutched it to her chest, and her skin appeared pale, almost white. Bloodless.

“Bastard,” she muttered under her breath.

Without giving herself time to think, she stalked toward Jack. He just stood there with that asinine grin on his face as she pulled back her fist and punched him in the nose. She put all her strength behind the blow, but he hardly swayed under the force. She did manage to split his lip, though, and a bead of blood welled up. He licked it slowly, and his eyes narrowed.

“I told you not to touch them,” she said.

“It was just a snack. She’s alive isn’t she?” His tone was laced with amusement.

She wanted to rant at him. But what good would that do?

Maria’s eyes held a blank, dead expression, and black hatred welled up inside Roz. Sometime very soon, she was going to make Jack pay. She was just sorry that his death would be a quick one and she wouldn’t be around to gloat afterward.

She turned away from him as a wave of power rippled through the air. A woman stood poised in the entrance to the portal, pale against the darkness.

Her head rose as though she was sniffing the night. Long blond hair, eyes so dark they appeared black, and pale, pale skin, almost luminescent and marked with swirling runes that pulsated with power. She was both beautiful and repellent. Roz’s skin prickled and she had to fight the urge to shuffle back as the woman stepped out.

Jack’s boss, she presumed.

She was a demon, that much was obvious; Roz could feel it in the power that thrummed in the night air. Asmodai had told her that there were many different kinds of demons, some more powerful than others. Some were merely scary monsters, like Jack’s friends, with little potential other than carnage. Others had incredible powers. Asmodai had never admitted it, but she’d always gotten the impression that he was one of the more powerful creatures of the Abyss. Maybe because he was such an arrogant bastard—she couldn’t imagine anyone telling him what to do, and he must have gotten that attitude from somewhere.

The woman looked around her, her gaze locking on Roz, and a cold, hard lump of fear formed in Roz’s gut.

“I am Andarta,” she said.

Roz shrugged. “Am I supposed to be impressed?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “The Key,” she said. “Give it to me.”

“Let them go, and I will.” Roz waved toward Ryan and Maria.

A slow smile curled her beautiful lips. “Jack’s taken a fancy to your little friend. I think he’d like to keep her. So why don’t we just take the Key and you with it?”

Roz curled her upper lip and rolled her eyes. “You think I’m that stupid?”

Andarta’s gaze ran down over her, then back up to her face, and Roz had to fight the urge to squirm.

Pure evil.

“I don’t actually know. In fact, I have no clue what you are. There’s fae in there, I think, but you’re shrouded, hidden…”

“Does it matter? Could we get back to the point of this meeting?”

“So tell us how bright you are. Give me a reason not to take the Key and hand you over to Jack.”

Roz took a deep breath. Let the lies begin. “There’s a spell on the Key. If I don’t remove it then it will go bang when it leaves my person.”

“Really? A spell?”

“A big powerful one.”

Andarta turned to Jack. “You believe her?”

He shrugged. “Where did you get the spell?”

“A man I met at the Order. Jonas—he’s a warlock.”

“She’s telling the truth—about the warlock at least. I’ve heard of him—very powerful.”

Andarta let out a long-suffering sigh. “Let them go.” She waved a hand at Ryan and Maria, and the demons around them parted.

Roz strode across, trying to appear confident. She came to a halt in front of Ryan. “Is she okay?”

“No. That bastard—”

“Could I have my Key now?” Andarta interrupted.

God, the woman was impatient, but she’d have to wait a little while longer. “No. They need to get away first, and thanks to your asshole friend there”—she waved a hand in Jack’s direction—“she’s not in a condition to walk anywhere.”

Jack took a step toward her. Roz whirled to face him and snarled. “Back off, or I will destroy it.”

Roz usually went to amazing lengths to hide her powers. Now, a little show might do some good, help with the next part of the plan. She reached out a hand. Ryan flinched and she realized that beneath his show of strength, he was terrified. It made her think more of him. “Let me help,” she said.

She rested a hand on his bruised cheek and allowed the magic to flow through her and into him. His lashes lowered for a moment. When he raised them, some of the terror was gone, and the bruises began to fade. She shifted her touch to the arm cradled across his middle. She could tell by the way he held it that the wrist was broken.

“You tried to protect her?” she asked, nodding at Maria.

“Yeah, for all the good it did her.”

“You tried, and that’s what matters.”

“You really believe that?” He glanced behind her. “We can ‘try’ all we like and it will make no difference.”

Roz didn’t answer. What could she say? Instead, she sent out a pulse of magic and healed the fracture, saw the last of the pain clear from his eyes.

“What are you?” he asked.

“Yes, what are you?” Andarta added. Her impatience had faded, and now she studied Roz as though she might be something interesting after all.

“I’m a witch,” Roz said. She realized as the words popped out that she’d never actually said them aloud. “Let me look at her,” she said to Ryan.

He still held Maria tight against his side. Her eyes were closed now, and she hadn’t reacted in any way to their conversation. Reaching out, Roz touched Maria’s cheek lightly. Her lashes flickered up, her eyes dead.

Roz could do this. After all, she’d helped Jessica; she could help Maria. Closing her eyes, she searched for the door, and this time she found it easily. Her palm rested on Maria’s forehead, and she sent the power down, like liquid light along the connection between them. For a minute, nothing happened; there was no answering spark from Maria.

Roz pressed her fingers harder into the other woman’s forehead.

“Come on, Maria,” she muttered. “Don’t let the bastard get the better of you. He’s an insignificant piece of shit scum, not worth it.”

Soft laughter drifted up from behind her; at least Andarta found her amusing.

She felt a small flicker of response from Maria and flooded her mind with warmth, sending her power into the other woman’s mind. She could sense the fear and pain, but it was more than that—a deep, dark despair, the loss of everything she had believed in. Had Maria prayed to her God? At what point had she accepted that he wouldn’t save her?

Where had Maria’s God been when she needed him against the demons from Hell? Roz understood how she felt—she’d been there, but it was worse for Maria. The sister had devoted her whole life to that God and in a short time, she had lost everyone and everything she held dear. And now she had lost her faith.

“There are other things to believe in,” Roz whispered. “There is evil in the world, but there are also beings who fight that evil, who keep the world safe.” She thought of Piers but didn’t think he would make a good God substitute for Maria. “You can help others, Maria. Don’t let the bad guys win.”

Maria’s eyes opened, and there was someone home. Halleluiah.

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