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still alive and was in better condition than Lazarus was when the fire users reduced him to a charred skeleton, but it was too early for relief.

Where was Valentine?

Turning in a circle, I glanced around the vast room. Kresnik’s immortal body lay by the ashes of the four-poster, still impaled with Poseidon’s trident. Close by were the Rude Girls’ corpses, sprawled where Kresnik had shoved them.

But there was no sign of Valentine. My gaze landed on the clay gathered in a mound close to the window, and I rushed toward the mass. Without thinking too much about it, I shifted as I ran, but when I reached for the clay, my fingers were still made of fire.

“Shit.” I snatched my hand away. Somehow, I’d kept Kresnik’s ifrit. If I touched that clay in this condition, it would fire it into pottery like a kiln.

Retracting my flames, I shifted back into a woman and let the leather armor slide back into place.

“Valentine.” My voice shook. “If you’re in there, hang on. I’m coming.”

I dug my fingers into the wet clay and scooped out handful after handful, not knowing if he was really inside the mound, if Kresnik had succeeded in remaking him, or if Valentine had suffocated.

New-age music drifted in through the broken window, combined with Annie Chong’s hoarse voice, repeating the same prayer from over an hour ago. I kept digging, ignoring the ache of my biceps and the muscles of my back, ignoring the sweat pouring down my brow, and finally hit something hard.

My heart soared. It was Valentine.

When I finally dug him out, he was unmoving.

“Valentine?” I shook his arm.

His eyes bulged. His mouth opened. He inhaled a breath and choked.

I rolled him onto his side and slammed both fists between his shoulder blades.

Valentine’s body heaved with wracking coughs. I knelt beside him, holding a hand over my fluttering stomach. He needed to recover as himself and not Kresnik’s creation. We all needed him so much.

When his spluttering faded into rapid breaths, I turned him onto his back, and he gazed up at me with glazed eyes. Silt clung to his lashes, making him look like a statue that had been brought to life. I held my breath and kept my magic below the surface of my skin, waiting to see if he would arise as himself or Kresnik’s new creation.

“Mera,” he croaked. “Shift back. It’s too dangerous for you in this form.”

All the tension that had built up in my chest released, and I reeled forward, finally able to exhale. “It’s over.” I placed my hands on his bicep. “Brother David has been destroyed. I control the phoenix now. Kresnik can’t resurrect his immortal body.”

Valentine’s brows drew together in a frown. “Nothing’s over until we capture Kresnik’s soul. Where is the other corpse?”

My stomach plummeted. I’d been so busy trying to defeat him that there hadn’t been time to find a vessel to trap his soul. Kresnik’s spirit could have floated away by now to any of his powerful followers. For all I knew, there was another one like Brother David lying about for this very occasion.

“The corpse solidified,” said a voice from the other side of the room.

Valentine stumbled to his feet and helped me up.

Hades stood beside the remains of the bed, holding a huge disc of solid flame that he must have gathered from downstairs.

Next to him, Captain Caria clutched the scythe and the trident. After setting the remains of Brother David on the floor, Hades bent down and plucked something out of the ashes—Kresnik’s disembodied penis that I’d sliced off with my scythe.

A shudder raced down my back. Kresnik had probably enhanced the wretched organ and made it fireproof.

Hades shook his head and tutted. “Some women should never be allowed near sharp objects.”

Annoyance prickled my skin like static electricity. Now was not the time for quips. Not when Caiman was lying unconscious and half burned to death.

“Where the hell were you while we were fighting Kresnik?” I snapped.

The Demon King grimaced. “He sent a group of his people into the palace and threatened my most treasured possession. I thought he was bluffing, but it turned out he was telling the truth, and the battle in Hell went on for longer than anticipated.”

My mind conjured up Hades’ purple palace of pain. “You ducked out of the most important fight in centuries to save a room full of floggers?”

Valentine placed a hand on my shoulder. “Chastise him later.” He turned to the captain and Hades. “Is there a healer on the bus? Caiman needs urgent medical attention.”

Captain Caria strode across the room, placed the weapons on the floor, and knelt at the butler’s side. “He’s still breathing.”

She placed a hand on his forehead and disappeared.

I exhaled a long breath, glad I hadn’t used my flames to reduce him to ash. This way, he would recover naturally and regrow his body parts under medical supervision. With any luck, he would be restored to his former health.

“Did you examine the corpse?” Valentine asked.

“It’s empty.” Hades tossed the penis into the pile of ash and raised Prometheus’s body by the wrist. “Both of them. My enforcers are roaming the palace and its grounds, searching for suspect souls. As soon as they find Kresnik’s, they’ll return it to Hell.”

I broke free from Valentine and glanced around the room before spotting the bag Caiman had dropped. I upended it and released the ward masters’ spheres. “We need to break this immortal body into small pieces and seal them in these vessels.”

“And scatter them across all corners of the earth?” Hades asked.

“You have to admit that it’s more secure than putting Kresnik somewhere he can regroup and escape,” Valentine said.

Hades didn’t even bristle at the unspoken barb about his inability to secure the Fifth Faction of Hell. Whatever Kresnik’s people had tried to take from him was more precious than his sex toys.

The Demon King’s gaze darted from side to side, his eyes twinkling with mirth. My brows drew together. Since

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