“Excuse me?” Hope asked one of the men behind a stall. She’d picked him because his tables were filled with bright toys. As she drew closer, what at first appeared to be dolls, seemed to morph as she studied the small figures. The heads were the same rock as the rest of the Underworld, but the faces painted on the black stone were grotesque caricatures of pain. The bodies were stuffed, and deep red stained the fabric in the spots of vital organs.

“Yes, girlie? You want to buy a haunt for someone you left behind?” He continued to sell her. “These have been sanctified by the goddess Hecate. Sure to bring chaos to whomever betrayed you.”

She shook her head. “I’m looking for someone. How do you find someone here?”

The merchant narrowed his gaze. “Who you be looking for?”

“It’s time to go, Hope.” Asbolus grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the stall.

The merchant’s gaze went from curious to cunning. “A centaur is watching her. She is still aliv—”

“Stop now, or I’ll have Thanatos put you in Tartarus.”

The man chuckled. “I fear Hades more than the god of death. See here, is this the—?”

“Halt!”

Hope turned and her heart skipped a beat. Three men, pale skinned with eyes dark as the rock beneath them, advanced toward her. Skia. Perhaps Thanatos sent them for her.

“Hades would have a word with you,” the one in front called.

Oh gods. She reached for her blades, but of course she didn’t have them. Her heart pounded against her ribs, demanding that she run. Hope backed away, inching toward a side street leading out of the square.

“We will not hurt you, monster.”

Right. She didn’t believe them at all.

“Stop right there, Marcus,” a familiar voice hissed.

Hope glanced to her right, and she froze in panic.

Darren.

Darren was there. The Skia that had attacked her in Goldendale was flanked by a half dozen other men all with the same pasty skin and black eyes.

Time slowed.

“We found her first, Darren. You can go back and let Hades know. We’ll bring her in.”

Darren laughed. “Who said anything about bringing her in?”

The first one, Marcus, scrunched up his face just before a black blade buried itself between his eyes. The creature fell backward, sending the other two behind him scrambling for blades. But they were outnumbered and clearly caught by surprise. In seconds there were three bodies on the ground.

By the time the third body fell, the merchant had disappeared. There was screaming in the background, peripheral noise, indicating Hope’s fear was well grounded.

“Little monster, you’ve come to my world.” The telltale leer widened into a sickening, distorted grin.

“What do you want?”

Darren pulled a blade from the other Skia’s body and held his arms wide as black blood dripped to the dark ground. “Retribution.”

He leapt forward, closing the distance between them. As he drew the blade back, Hope grabbed his wrist. Turning into his body, she kneed him in the groin.

Darren laughed, a wheezing sound of death. He pulled her close until her body was flush with his cold one. “I’m dead. That doesn’t hurt anymore.”

She still held his wrist and used her body weight to pull his arm down as she dropped to the ground. As he bent forward with her momentum, she jumped up, driving her elbow into his nose. She let go of his hand, and scooting away, she shifted into a defensive stance.

“You’ve gotten better,” Darren hissed as he wiped black fluid from his face.

She counted six Skia. Far too many for her to defeat on her own . . . unless she had blades.

Hope ran to the fallen bodies. She pulled the blades from the dead Skia’s body, and a cold liquid black as pitch ran down the blades onto her hands. With the practiced aim Xan had taught her, she threw one blade and then the other. One Skia dropped, and then the second went down.

But then Darren was in front of her again. “You’ve gotten much better.”

He swung with his blade and followed with his fist. She ducked and blocked, countering with a fist of her own, before dancing back away.

“Your style is different, too.”

She couldn’t run until she’d killed them. Not unless she was much faster . . . “Asbolus!”

There he was in the alley on the other side of the square. Despite being muscular and strong, the centaur was avoiding the fight. What was wrong with him?

She didn’t have time to think about it. Two more Skia circled in. Hope paced back, shifting her position until both attackers were coming from the same direction. One threw a knife, a sad attempt really, and she ducked. Grabbing a handful of the gruesome dolls, she threw them at the Skia. It was only enough to make him flinch, and she grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm as she stepped behind him.

She moved just in time. The second Skia drove his blade right where she’d been standing, into the other Skia’s chest. His grip on his blade loosened, and Hope wrenched it free and shoved it into the second Skia’s eye.

Three left.

Another Skia charged her. Hope had just enough space to arc step behind him, but as she pushed her acquired blade between his shoulders, she saw he’d been a decoy.

“Drop it,” Darren hissed, his blade at her throat.

She let go of the blade buried in the Skia’s back. “You cut me before, and it didn’t kill me,” she taunted with bravado she’d learned from Xan. “This is not the end for me.”

“You’re in my world, Hope.” His arm came around her neck in a choke hold. “And you’ve lost all your power.”

Hope tucked her chin, trying to prevent the pressure from cutting off her blood supply to the brain. She stomped on his foot and clawed at his arm, but his grip was too much.

There was a crash, and Hope was thrown forward.

Someone yelled, and Asbolus was up on his back legs kicking a Skia in the chest.

Another voice, this one softer, and someone pulling her body. Her vision tunneled, the edges darkening with her mind, demanding escape. She was going to black out. As her vision swam, she saw Thanatos appear. He raised his arm and blasted—literally blasted—a Skia. It was like shards of darkness scattered as another Skia disappeared with the god’s force.

And then darkness took her.