I put a little swagger in my step.

Superstrength is me.

I scowl. “Stupid feckin’ feckers,” I mutter.

Hormonal is me. Up one minute, down the next. My moods change quick as my feet fly. One minute I can’t wait to grow up and have sex; the next I hate people, and men are people; and, dude—isn’t semen about the most disgusting thing you ever seen? Like, eew, who wants some dude to squirt snot in their mouth?

Been on my own for a couple days now, and it’s swee-eeeet! Nobody telling me what to do. Ain’t gotta go to bed. Nobody telling me what to think. Just me and my shadow—and we are two cool fecks. Who wouldn’t wanna be me?

Still … I worry about those stupid sheep at the abbey.

Feck, no, I don’t! If they don’t wanna pull their heads outta their asses, ain’t my trubs!

Too bad some peeps don’t know to take me seriously. Gonna have to mess up their world to get ’em to see me.

Been at Chester’s again.

Took seven of the slithery fecks to keep me out this time. Kept telling ’em I needed to talk to Ry-O, ’cause I think he’s their leader when Barrons ain’t around.

And Barrons ain’t around.

Hunted high and low for him last night after my eyeballs got grossed out by Mac swapping nasties with the Lord Monster.

Dude—what’s with that? She could have V’lane or Barrons! Who’d wanna swap spit with an Unseelie-eater? ’Specially the one that caused this whole fecking mess! Where’d she go for so long? What happened to her?

They wouldn’t let me into Chester’s. A-fecking-gain! Getting old, real old, it is. Ain’t like I wanna drink or nothing. Stuff’s poison. Just wanted to clue ’em in.

Finally told ’em to tell Ry-O I think Mac’s in trouble. Hanging out with Darroc. Two princes protecting him.

Think he’s brainwashed her or something. Gotta get her back again. Wanted backup to cover me while I take ’em all out. Ain’t got my sidhe-sheep behind me. Since leaving the abbey, I’m Persona Non Grovel, and groveling’s the only way you get anything from Ro and her herd. Even Jo wouldn’t leave the abbey. Said it’s too late for Mac.

That’s where Ry-O was s’posed to come in. Told his freaks I was taking the Lord Monster out tonight and they could help if they wanted.

Or not.

Don’t need nobody. Not me.

Mega on the move! Faster than the wind! Leaps tall buildings in a single bound!

Dude!

Zzzoooom!

I study myself in the mirror with cold detachment. A smile curves the lips of the woman looking back.

The Sinsar Dubh paid me a visit last night. It reminded me of its crushing power, treated me to a taste of its sadism. But, far from being cowed by it, I’m more resolved than ever.

It must be stopped, and the person who knows how to accomplish that most quickly is sitting in the adjoining room, laughing at something one of his guards just said.

So many people are dead because of him. And he’s out there laughing. I realize now that Darroc was always more dangerous than Mallucé.

Mallucé looked horrific and behaved like a monster, but he rarely killed those in his enclave of worshippers.

Darroc is attractive, charming, affectionate, and he can orchestrate the annihilation of three billion humans without batting an eye, without losing an ounce of that charm. On the heels of mass homicide, he can smile at me and tell me how much he cared about my sister, show me pictures of them “having fun” together. Then kill three billion more if he gets his hands on the Book?

Merged with it, what would he be capable of? Would he stop at anything? Is he using me as detachedly as I’m trying to use him and the moment he gets what he wants I’m a dead woman?

We’re locked in mortal combat. It’s a war I will do anything to win.

I smooth my dress, turn to the side, point a toe, and admire the line of my leg in heels. I have new clothes. After wearing functional clothing, being pretty feels strange, frivolous.

But necessary for the monster of frivolous appetites out there.

Last night after the Book vanished, I’d tried to sleep but had succeeded only in getting tangled up in half-awake nightmares. I was at Darroc’s mercy, being raped by the princes again; then the unseen fourth was there, turning me inside out; then I felt the sting of needles at my nape as he tattooed my skull; then the princes were on me again; and then I was at the abbey, shivering with unquenchable lust on the floor of the cell, my bones melting, fusing to each other, my need for sex was pain beyond imagining; then Rowena was looming over me, and I clung to her, but she crushed a funny-smelling cloth to my face. I fought, I kicked, I clawed, but I was no match for the old woman and, in my nightmare, I’d died.