Lady Gray’s decorating style is something I would call post-detonation. There’s messy, and then there’s the aftermath of whatever violent act scattered her belongings

The horizon glares gold as we ride deeper into the mountains. I scrape my sweat-damp hair off my forehead and shade my eyes.

A massive eagle swoops past, its ear-piercing cry blocking out Aries’ question as it snatches a ribeye.

Twenty minutes later, I’m watching Aries grill steak on an outcropping of stone that juts out over the valley.

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“They’re thieves,” Rach growls.

“And weasels!” That’s about Felicia’s crudest insult to date, and I pat her shoulder, grinning.

In the end, it’s Rach’s boot that persuades the demons to leave us alone. Nothing like a kick in the ass from a sword-wielding banshee.

I’ve already hit the ground before Aries launches into the air. The dragons’ frenzied departure stirs the sandy soil, eddies of red rising to surround us.