The birthing room where Aamon’s mother died was at the end of the hall on the top floor of the manor. Samael explained the room had been positioned there so that the screams of a woman giving birth would be muffled throughout the rest of the manor. But after hearing the story about how Aamon had come into this world, Addison imagined the woman’s screams had echoed throughout every hallway and corridor.
“Aamon would have chosen the room because it was the place of his beginning. I assume today he sees it as the place of his rebirth, an omnificent ruler and conqueror.”
As they passed a window in the hallway, Addison glanced outside at the battle taking place below. Many had fallen on both sides, and the fight raged on. She saw Sayuri taking on three demons at one time, and Lia fighting beside her.
Luke draped an arm around Addison’s shoulder. “She’ll be all right.”
“I hope so.”
Her protection spell would work because it had to work.
As they continued toward the birthing room, a low hissing sound filtered down the hallway. The birthing room came into sight, as did the serpent protecting it.
“Corra,” Samael said.
“Who is she?” Addison asked.
“A Celtic goddess. St. Patrick chased her throughout Ireland. When he found her, she swallowed him whole. Two days later, he cut his way out, and her body turned to stone.”
“She seems to have found a way to survive.”
“My brother found Corra in his travels over a century ago. He agreed to free her if she pledged her life to him.”
“S-s-s-top talking about me,” Corra hissed.
“And why shouldn’t Addison know the truth about who you are?” Samael asked. “Or maybe I should tell her who you were, before you became a servant of evil.”
Corra’s head shot forward, her fangs missing Samael by a couple of inches. She recoiled and tried again, this time connecting with the side of Luke’s neck. Addison pressed her fingers onto the head of the snake, singeing Corra’s flesh, causing her to release the grip she had on Luke.
Samael stepped in, fighting Corra off as Addison pressed a hand to Luke’s wound, healing him.
Addison turned back to see Corra coiled around Samael, her grip getting tighter and tighter.
“She’s … not … like … the Corra I’ve heard about,” Samael said. “Much stronger.”
It was Aamon’s doing. Of this, Addison was sure. He’d altered Corra, turning her into a killing machine.
The birthing room door flung open, and Aamon stood behind it, the book of black arts open, facing Addison. “Your protectors have failed you.”
“You know nothing.”
Addison rubbed a finger across the stone of her ring and uttered, “Ancient mothers, it is time. I need you.”
Bright orbs filled the room, growing and shifting into Addison’s necromancer ancestors. All eyes turned to Corra. At once, the women gathered around a suffocating Samael. Each placed a hand onto Corra’s body and began chanting.
Corra hissed, fighting to release herself from their grip. As the chanting continued, Corra’s body began to shrink, becoming smaller until she exploded, her entrails scattering across the hallway.
And in the birthing room, a distraught Aamon yelled, “Noooooooo!”