Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“I didn’t keep it from them, I just didn’t mention it. A girl doesn’t need to tell her boyfriends every little thing, Wyn.”
“I hardly think your using them as guinea pigs was a little thing.”
“I hardly think that their sleeping with other women was a little thing. As Xavier says, you reap what you sow in this world.”
“Cheaters should always get what they deserve.” Eating another chip, Hattie looked off into the distance. “If only I’d met my George years ago. He would have been my one and only.”
“I have to say, you two do seem made for each other,” said Wynter . . . which was when she realized that Xavier was still doodling on Anabel’s face. “An eye patch? Really?”
“She’s gotta pay for her sins.” Xavier slid his gaze back to Hattie. “So you trust George, then?”
The old woman smiled. “Oh, one hundred percent. George doesn’t have a philandering bone in his body.”
Delilah picked up her mug of tea. “Does he know you’ve been married?”
“Yes, of course,” replied Hattie with a flap of her hand.
“Does he know how many times you’ve been married?” asked Delilah.
Hattie pursed her lips. “Well . . .”
“Then I suppose he also doesn’t know that you made yourself a widow each time.”
“Why would I bore him with such a long story?”
“I would think of it as more of a cautionary tale.”
Hattie hmphed. “I already promised you all that I wouldn’t hurt him.”
Wynter snickered. “You also made pretty promises to your husbands. Look how that turned out. I think they—Seriously, Xavier, you’re giving her a mustache now? What are you, twelve?”
“She’s gotta learn her lesson.” He added a little goatee with his marker, as if for good measure. “I don’t know why you’re making a big deal out of what I’m doing.”
“Try to look at the bigger picture.” Wynter drank the last of her tea. “She’ll make you pay for that. Then you’ll retaliate again. So a cycle of vengeance will begin.”
“And what is wrong with that?”
Wynter rolled her eyes. “Someone needs to wake her up.” She set down her cup. “I need to talk to you guys about something.”
“Hmm, sounds ominous.” He put his mouth to Anabel’s ear and whistled loud.
Her head shot up. “What in the—” She blinked hard and then scrubbed a hand down her face. “God, was it really necessary to whistle right down my ear?”
“Yeah,” replied Xavier. “For three reasons. One, you’re a freakily deep sleeper. Two, it would irritate you. Three, Wynter has something to tell us.”
Anabel frowned. “Reason number two doesn’t count as ‘necessary,’ asshole.”
“Depends on your definition of necessary, I guess.”
“There’s only one definition of that word.” Anabel threw up a hand when he would have spoken again. “I’m done. Stop talking.” She cut her gaze to Wynter. “What is it you want to tell us?”
Wynter shifted slightly in her seat. “Okay, so you’re going to hear some news today. Cain will be making a speech about it. But I want you to hear it from me first. Now, let me just preface this by saying that I’ll understand if you feel let down that I said nothing about this before. I truly will. But Cain only told me because he trusted me not to speak of it to others. I couldn’t betray that trust.”
Delilah flicked a hand. “Of course you couldn’t. Now spit it out, the suspense is killing me.”
Wynter took a preparatory breath. “There’s an eighth Ancient here.”
“An eighth?” echoed Anabel, sitting straighter.
“Yes,” replied Wynter. “He came to Devil’s Cradle long ago with the other seven, but he was so deeply injured that he went to sleep in that way that the Ancients do. It wasn’t a standard Rest, though. It was similar to a coma. The others expected him to slip away in his sleep at some point, but he didn’t. He healed. He simply didn’t wake.”
“Until now,” added Anabel.
Wynter nodded. “Until now. The Ancients woke him so that he can partake in the upcoming battle.”
“Well,” began Delilah, leaning back in her seat, “that was, like, the last thing I expected you to say.”
“Have you met him yet?” Hattie asked Wynter.
“Yes. I met him last night.” In a manner of speaking. Cain had introduced her to the other Ancient, but she hadn’t spoken to him. Since Cain had asked her to keep the detail of Abaddon being his uncle private, she kept that part to herself, only adding, “His name is Abaddon.”
Anabel’s brows flew up. “As in the Abaddon? A demon who some believe might actually be the devil?”
“Yeah, him. Except he’s neither of those things. Humans have a habit of mistaking Ancients for demons,” Wynter reminded her. “Probably because of how darkly powerful they are. Or maybe the Aeons embarked on a sort of hate campaign to ensure people feared and loathed them, I don’t know.”