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snaps and the crunching of bones grated across my nerves, making the jar slip from my trembling fingers.

“Don’t open it outside,” Hades yelled in my ear. “Put it in your pocket.”

There was probably a good reason, but the sound of Macavity attacking those men blocked my ability to think. I slipped the jar into the pocket of my cloak and sprinted across the lawn.

As I reached the trees that bordered the walkway of Kenwood House, I turned to find Macavity dragging the last of the bodies into the giant fennel plant.

“I take back everything I said about your cat,” Hades said into my ear. “He’s a marvelous companion.”

“Do you think he’ll eat those men?” I whispered.

“Judging by the way he devoured those chicken pieces, I would hazard a yes,” Hades said with a chuckle.

A shudder took control of my insides, and I continued along the path and around the corner. Now that Macavity had stopped snarling, the gardens fell silent, save for the pounding of my feet hitting the paving stones and the thudding of my heart.

“That’s four jars done,” I said between ragged breaths. “Where do I find the last?”

“That one will be tricky,” Hades replied, his voice low with defeat.

My footsteps slowed as we passed the ballroom’s tall, arched windows. “Why?”

“Do you remember that candelabra?” he asked.

“The one you said operated the wards?”

“Not quite,” he replied. “Neither the candles nor their holders maintain security.”

My brow furrowed and I continued toward the doors that led to the ballroom and placed my hand on its wooden surface. “What difference does it make when I’m going to blow the candles out?”

The door wouldn’t budge, so I stepped back and checked for handles.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “We’re not going to Kenwood House. You need to fetch the firestone heart your mother said held enough power for you to escape.”

“Alright.” I walked toward one of the few fire doors that opened from the outside and led to the Flame. “But I still don’t understand why you don’t want me to find that fifth jar.”

Hades remained silent for several heartbeats, making me wonder if he had lied about knowing a way to defeat Kresnik. If everything he had told me was true, then they were evenly matched. I wasn’t sure if Titans were stronger than Greek gods, but Prometheus lost his power, reinvented himself as Kresnik, and now had to rely on stealing magic from others.

Hades also appeared to have lost his godly power but was a King of Hell. That had to count for something, even if he was just a pile of ashes.

His sigh filled my ears. “Kresnik arranged for one set of my ashes to be mixed in clay, flattened into a disc, etched with mocking glyphs, and turned into a placemat.”

I paused. “What? Why?”

“He wanted to make sure that if I ever broke free from my jars, I could never become whole.”

My mouth fell open. “So, what was the point of collecting all the jars, then?”

“Would you want your body parts to be stored within glass receptacles?” he asked.

“No, but what about our agreement? And Valentine’s heart?”

He remained silent.

I ground my teeth. The bloody bastard had tricked me into doing all his dirty work and offered me nothing in return but a pack of lies and a ring that might get me killed. “I’m going to hold this jar hostage until you help me escape.”

“Fine,” he replied without a trace of guilt.

Each footstep weighed like concrete as I trudged around the house toward an entrance that would lead us to the Flame. How dare that demon lie to me? It was partially his fault that Valentine was now in Kresnik’s clutches. If he hadn’t pretended Aunt Arianna would be executed, we would never have gone to the Supernatural Council, the demon doctor would have removed the firestone, and I would have restored Valentine to life.

My pulse pounded the beat of a war drum, and I clenched my fists. What use was raging about Hades when Kresnik would send out another group of people to drag me to his ritual? With Valentine away on a mission and unable to protect me, my only way out through the wards was by regaining my power.

I stepped through the door that was halfway down the stairs, shouldered off my cloak and rolled it under my shoulder.

“Why are you taking off your only means of protection?” Hades asked.

Still bristling at having been duped, I said, “Everyone recognizes me from the cloak. If they’re searching for me, that’s the first thing they’ll look out for.”

“There are enough redheads in the Flame who look exactly like you, I suppose.”

His implication that I was unremarkable blew over me like a breeze. A lot of the people here were half-siblings or related to Father Jude. It was no surprise that I would blend in among them.

I pushed open the door and hurried through the hallway, passing fire users who were all headed in the direction of the ritual chambers. As soon as I felt the energy of the room I used to occupy, I slowed down to feel out which of the doors belonged to Aurora.

Her room was identical to mine—sparse with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a view of Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, and the London Eye. The observation wheel rotated, glowing crimson in the darkening sky.

“Under the pillow,” Hades said.

“Right.” I mounted the bed and slipped my hand beneath the covers.

My fingers brushed against warm stone that pulsed under my fingertips. I pulled it out to find a gemstone heart shaped like a beef tomato but with an enlarged fifth chamber that pointed downward into a rounded point.

Hades whistled. “Impressive.”

“Know a lot about supernatural hearts, do you?”

“I’ve torn out a few in my time,” he said, his voice light with pride.

My breath quickened. This was a lot of firestone to put in a person’s blood and over eight times the weight of the bracelet. The firestone heart was an amber so deep that it appeared black

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