Bodies rocked into me from every direction, and I was knocked to the floor by one of the Ministers. Sharp pain exploded in my head. I tried getting up, but the hysterical crowd kept pushing me down. Dropping the blade, I curled into a ball and protected my head. Feet were everywhere, stamping down on me, kicking into me. This was how I was going to die—not in battle, not from the plot of some Council member hell-bent on destroying me, but trampled to death by a bunch of pure-bloods. Of all the ways to die.

I was so going to haunt every last one of them.

My side throbbed, and I was pretty sure I had a broken rib. In the mad rush, daimons were running and killing right beside the pures, and I had no idea where those damn furies were. I squeezed my eyes shut, whimpering as each sandal-covered foot dug into me. Seconds after I didn’t think I could take anymore, the crowd thinned enough for me to lower my hands and grab the blade.

Shaken and bruised, I climbed to my feet. Pures cluttered the hall, smelling of smoke, sweat, and fear. I didn’t see Seth anywhere. Stumbling toward the ballroom, I went against the tide of pures. Marcus had been in that room, along with Laadan and Lucian.

Inside the once-grand ballroom, I staggered through the destruction, scanning the bodies littering the floor. Marcus and I didn’t get along for longer than five seconds, but he was the only person left in this world who shared the same blood as me. I didn’t want to see his body among the ones on the floor. I didn’t know what I’d do. I just didn’t.

Several side doors of the reception hall had been busted in, and some daimons stalked the remaining pures like prey. I watched one pounce on a pure—a coppery-headed one, super tan and beautiful.

Dawn Samos.

It sank its teeth into her arm. Screaming, she tried to wretch her arm away, but the daimon had her in a death grip. She was lucky, though. He could’ve gone for her throat. A small voice in the back of my head whispered, let her go; she likes Aiden.

But that was all kinds of wrong—super messed-up.

Pulling on my remaining strength, I ignored the aches and rushed toward them. The only easy daimon to kill was a daimon tagging some hapless fool. Didn’t I know? My eyes met Dawn’s amethyst ones as I plunged the sharp edge of the blade into the daimon’s back. He exploded into blue dust all over her pretty white robes.

Dawn scuttled back, face sharp with pain and terror. Dismissing her, I faced the carnage. The daimons, both half and pure, were giving in to all the aether, feeding on the fallen. I started toward them, but a raw shriek stopped my heart.

I turned around.

The three furies hovered in front of the door, their snake hair nipping at the space around them. An unfortunate Guard stood between me and the furies, but not for long. The ugliest of them, her gown stained with blood, snapped his neck with a twist of her wrist.

Rage and fear swept through me, dulling the ache deep in my bones. Coiling, responsive power expanded in my stomach and spread through my limbs. A jolt of energy shot through my palm, lighting my hand on fire. It traveled up my arm, and then it twisted down to my core where it licked at a muscle never used. Maybe it was akasha, maybe it was something far stranger—far deadlier—because everything shone like a tawny jewel, as if someone had dipped a paintbrush in amber and spread it over the room.

Stepping forward, my fingers spasmed over the center of the sickle blade. One of the furies laughed. The other two tittered and brushed past the really ugly one. Behind me, I could hear the Guards fighting the daimons, but I focused on the furies.

The two glanced at one another and licked their lips. One of them spoke, “Pretty little Apollyon, siphoning off the First, are you? Or is he throwing his power to you? He better be careful doing that.”

“It won’t be enough,” the other said. “You can’t kill us.”

“I can try.” I clenched the blade.

The furie laughed. “Try and die.”

Then they flew toward me. I wheeled around and raced toward the wall. Launching myself up, I kicked off the wall and flipped over the two furies, bringing the blade down in a wide, arcing sweep.

I landed in a crouch behind them, arms widespread. The two furies staggered backward, their bodies falling forward without their heads. Blue fire shot from their necks, swamping and consuming their bodies.

The ugly furie cackled, and I whirled around, facing her. She drifted several feet off the floor, her hair wriggling. “You didn’t kill my sisters, but Thanatos will not be pleased upon their return.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

She smiled, slipping back into the form that was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. “You’re a threat, and we must deal with the threat. It’s nothing personal.”

“I didn’t threaten anyone. I’m not the problem.”

“Not yet, but you will. We know what you will do.” She reached for the blade, striking unbelievably fast.

I lashed out, kicking her arm back. “What will I do?”

“Why fight me? You kill me and I will come back.” She jumped out fast, catching the front of my shirt. I narrowly escaped her claws. “That is what we do. We will keep coming back, hunting you till the threat is eradicated.”

“Great. You’re like herpes. The gift that just keeps on giving.”

She blinked. “What?”

I spun into a scissor kick, ignoring the sharp spike of pain as her claws caught my arm and pulled me forward. Using the momentum, I crashed into her. The furie was under me for a second, snarling as I gained the upper hand. I shoved my knee into her, delighting in the flicker of surprise.

She stared up at me, a picture of beauty and innocence. “What a path, what a path the Powers have chosen. You will be their tool. That is why you’re a threat.”

I stilled. “The oracle said that—”

The furie shifted again, her hair snapping at me. Coming up, I lopped the sickle across her neck and rolled off. Seconds later she went up in blue flames, but her laugh still lingered. For a moment I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Did taking down each furie count triple? Surely they were enough that I blown Aiden and Leon out of the water.

Rolling to my feet, I ran the sleeve of my sweater over my cheek. I turned around, seeing so many blue piles of dust and dead halfs that had been turned. Only one Guard remained in the reception hall—the pure-blooded one. Of all the people to survive, it had to be him. I should feel terrible about that thought, but I didn’t.

Sighing, I slowly approached the Council Guard. He had a fresh bruise blooming across his jaw, but was otherwise unscathed. “That was insane.”

He flipped the dagger in his hand and turned toward the two remaining pures. Dawn huddled behind a statue of Themis, her arm cradled to her chest. Blood dripped onto her white robes. A male pure several decades older than her had his arm around her, whispering something to her. The chick looked freaked out. I couldn’t blame her. She’d been thisclose to meeting her end.

I wiped my hand under my nose, not surprised to see my blood smeared across my skin.

“Is she okay?” the Guard asked.

The male lifted his head. A deep, angry-looking tag bled from where his shoulder and neck met. “Yeah, I think so. We need to get her checked out.” He looked at me. “You were amazing. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” I murmured, wanting to feel great about winning the fight, but the furie’s words left a jolting echo in my mind. She had given me an additional part of the puzzle, finishing what the oracle had said. But it still made little sense. Who were “the Powers” and how would I become a tool?

The pure had turned back to Dawn. “It’s over,” he soothed her, “all over now.”

It was, but I was still unwilling to put the sickle down—just in case. I kept having visions of horror movie monsters jumping out at me. I moved to the broken doors and peered out. Nothing moved, which I believed to be a good sign. But when would the furies be back? Five seconds from now? A day, a week, or a month?