“Or?”

“Or I will tell Kate. Your choice.”

I was out of options. I would need his help anyway, eventually. “The seer of the Witch Oracle called me.”

Grandfather’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know you kept in touch.”

“We’re friends. She is only two years older than me. We used to have girl days and shop for makeup together. I call her once in a while.”

Grandfather frowned, obviously struggling with this information. I gave him a moment.

“Is there a prophecy?”

“There is.” And she’d called me frantic in the middle of the night to deliver it.

“Let’s hear it.”

“When magic crests at its peak, the King of Fire will leave his citadel of misery in the Western Desert to travel east to devour the queen who doesn’t rule and sever bloodline reborn. Only the one who shares his power may oppose him.”

As soon as I heard it, I told my grandmother and we were on the leyline to Arizona before the sun came up.

I met Grandfather’s gaze. “He’s going to kill Kate.”

Nobody would ever harm Kate. Not as long as I was breathing.

He pondered my words. His eyes grew distant and for a moment a different man emerged from his wise and kind facade, younger, harder, vicious and sharp, like a shark coming to a surface from the depths of the ocean. The immortal wizard-king who nearly killed everyone he loved to rule the world. Ah, Grandpa. I missed you.

“You cannot kill Moloch.”

“I’m going to give it a very good try.” I had planned a lot of fun surprises.

“No, child. When I said you cannot kill him, I meant he regenerates. Our family bred for power over the lands we claim. His line bred for the ability to restore themselves.

“I’ll chop his head off. I’d like to see him regenerate that.”

“He will,” Grandfather said. “I haven’t seen it, but my father has.”

He was serious. My careful plan collapsed on itself like a house of cards. “How is that possible?”

Grandfather shrugged. “Magic of a bygone age. The best you can do is destroy enough of him to buy you time to get out. The magic of this moment in history isn’t strong enough for rapid reconstruction and the periods of tech will slow him down even more. Inflict enough damage to assure a temporary death and he won’t be a problem for at least a few months. Dismemberment is your friend.”

I gave him my sweet smile. “Thank you.”

“You didn’t ask the most important question.”

He paused. This was a test. If I asked the correct question, I would be rewarded. If I failed, he would be disappointed. I needed his help desperately.

I ran through it in my head. Magic at its peak, the King of Fire, citadel, Western Desert, the queen who doesn’t rule, the one who shares his power…

Here goes nothing. “How do I share in Moloch’s power?”

Roland smiled, his magic shining from within. The sun had risen, the clouds parted, the flowers bloomed, and the world smiled with him.

“The eyes, Julia. Moloch’s power is in his eyes.”

The library vanished. I was back on the piss-soaked straw in a dank cell, chained to the wall. The gaunt woman across gave me a blank stare. She probably didn’t even notice I was gone.

The heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway. A metal bar clanged open. Men filed into the room. Hands grabbed me and hauled me up, as someone unlocked my shackles. I hung limp. It was time.

*

I climbed to the apex of the hill, scrambling up the rocky slope. A strong hand caught my wrist and hauled me up like I weighed nothing. My grandmother grabbed me and squeezed me in a crushing hug. All my wounds cried out with a trickle of blood.

“How did it go?” she asked.

I glanced over my shoulder at the citadel burning behind me. The flames roared, turning the fortress into one massive bonfire staining the night with orange.

“He took my eye,” I told her.

Erra sucked in a sharp breath.

“That’s okay,” I said and opened my eyes wide, one brown and the other a brilliant glowing green. “I took one of his.”

Acknowledgments

This book was started during the first wave of COVID pandemic, when pictures of bodies loaded into refrigerated trucks were coming out of New York. It came about because an ICU nurse emailed us and asked us to post something, anything, because reading our work on her short break between grueling shifts kept her sane. We don’t have permission to share her name, but she has our deepest gratitude for everything she and other medical professionals, first responders, and essential workers have done for us.

We’d like to thank out agent Nancy Yost, and the awesome crew at NYLA: Sarah Younger, Natanya Wheeler, and Cheryl Pientka, for their support, friendship, and very hard work.

We are grateful to Rebecca Brewer, Stephanie Stogiera, Stefanie Chin, and Katherine Heasley for their editorial services and shaping the manuscript into a book and to Jill Smith and Jessica Haluska, who have read it on short notice and offered feedback.

A lot of people generously helped us make the book better. We’d like to acknowledge Rev. Dr Victoria Hart Gaskell for help with Christian research, Lail Edelsztein and Shani Hochberg for the assistance with Hebrew language and coming up with the name for Moloch’s priests, Pamela Freeman for helping us with Marten’s nickname, and Jesse Wendel, Camilla Cracchiolo, and Karen L Beasley, MD for their knowledge of injuries and medical expertise. We apologize if we have forgotten someone. All errors of fact are our own.

Finally, we’d like to thank our fans. You wanted this book and here it is. We hope it will be fun to read.