I threw aside the arrow and touched his face, my fingers shaking. “Mad? I… I don’t know, this doesn’t make sense, it’s my blood, but…”

Madding drew in a harsh breath and coughed. Blood—godsblood, which should’ve shone with its own light—covered his lips, but it was dark, obscuring the parts of him that I could see. Those were fading from view, too. The arrow was killing him.

No. He was a god. They did not die.

Except Role had, and Enefa had, and—

Madding choked, swallowed, focused on me. It made no sense that he laughed, but he did. “Always knew you were special, Oree,” he said. “A demon! A legend. Gods. Always knew… something.” He shook his head. I could barely see for his dimness and my tears. “And here I thought I’d have to watch you die.”

“No. I… I won’t. This isn’t. No.” I shook my head, babbling. Madding caught my hand, his own slick and hot with blood.

“Don’t let him use you, Oree.” He lifted his head to make sure I heard him. I could barely see his face, though I could feel it, hot and fevered. “They never understood… too quick to judge. You aren’t just a weapon.” He shuddered, his head falling back, his eyes drifting shut. “I would have loved you… until…”

He vanished. I could feel him beneath my hands still, but he was not there.

“Don’t hide from me,” I said. My voice was soft and did not carry, but he should have heard me. Should have obeyed.

Hands seized me, dragged me to my feet. I dangled limply between them, trying to will it: I want to see you.

“You forced my hand, Lady Oree.” Dateh. He came over, visible for once; he had used magic during the struggle. He was rubbing his throat, his face bruised and bloody. Someone had torn part of his robes. He looked thoroughly furious.

I hated that I could see him and not Madding.

“A doorway into my Empty.” He laughed once, without humor, then grimaced, as this hurt his bruised throat. “Amazing. Did you plan this, you and your nameless companion? I should have known better than to trust a woman who would give her body to one of them.” He spat downward, perhaps at Madding’s corpse.

not Madding there’s nothing there that isn’t him

Then he turned and snarled at one of the guards to come over. “Bring your sword,” he added.

I prayed then. I had no idea if Shiny could hear me, or if he cared. I didn’t care. Bright Father, please let this man kill me.

“Must you?” asked Serymn, her voice edged with distaste. “She might still be turned to our cause.”

“It must be done within moments of death. I don’t intend to let this mess go to waste.” He reached over to take something from the guard. I waited, feeling nothing as Dateh turned a look on me that was as cold as the wind in the Tree’s highest branches.

“When Bright Itempas killed Enefa,” he said, “He also tore her body open and took from it a piece of flesh that contained all her power. Had He not done so, the universe would’ve ended. Killing the Nightlord runs the same risk, so I’ve spent years researching where the seat of a god’s soul lies when they incarnate themselves in flesh.”

He lifted the sword then, two-handed, so fast that for an instant I saw six arms instead of two, and three sets of teeth bared in effort.

There was the hollow whoosh of cloven air. I felt a stirring of wind against my face. But the impact, when it came, was not in my body, though I heard the wet chuff as it struck flesh.

I frowned, horror struggling up through the numbness in my mind. Madding.

Dateh tossed the sword aside, gestured at another man to help. They bent. The smell of godsblood rose around me, thick and cloying, familiar, as flat and wrong here as it had been in the alley where I’d found Role. I heard… gods. Sounds I would expect in one of the infinite hells. Meat tearing. Bone and gristle cracking apart.

Then Dateh rose. His hand had gone dark, holding something; his robes were splattered and intermittent, too. He gazed at the thing in his hand with a look that I could not interpret, not without the touch of fingers, but I guessed. Revulsion, some, and resignation. But also eagerness. Lust worthy of a god.

When he lifted Madding’s heart to his lips and bit down—

I remember nothing more.

“Exploitation” (wax sculpture)

IT ALL COMES DOWN to blood. Yours, mine. All of it.

No one knows how it was discovered that godsblood is an intoxicant for mortals. The godlings knew it already when they came; it had been common knowledge before the Interdiction. I suppose someone, somewhere, simply decided to try it one day. Likewise, gods have drunk mortal blood. Only a few of them, thankfully, seem to like the taste.