Page 271 of Psycho Gods

Jinx was crumpled on the floor in a pile of bricks, and her one arm was dislocated at a horrible angle—but that wasn’t the scary part.

Her sunglasses were off, and her eyes glazed pure black.

Her one hand was outstretched, fingers bent in different broken directions as she pointed at the frozen figures and chanted, “Anima tua est mori.”

A gold cuff glowed brightly on her other wrist like it was leaking sunshine.

Light illuminated the mangled bodies that covered the floor, and the temperature in the already warm room skyrocketed.

Long tendrils of a white flame floated in the air between the frozen creatures and Jinx’s outstretched hand, creating the illusion that she was connected to our remaining foes by ropes.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

It wasn’t Jinx’s midnight-black eyes, the white flame, or her words alone that made my stomach drop; it was the sheer power that radiated off her.

Silky black hair curled up around her head defying gravity as she repeated the chant.

Looking at Jinx was like looking at Lyla.

No.

It was worse.

The adage “you don’t look fate in the eyes” seemed more like genuine advice and less like a whimsical saying. She was power incarnate, a type of power that didn’t seem native to the realms of the High Court.

She dropped her outstretched hand, and the white ropes dissipated.

The bodies of the infected and ungodly dropped—Jinx was the only one still alive.

They were all dead.

Black receded, and Jinx’s eyes went back to normal. Her breathing was labored and loud in the aftermath of whatever she’d done.

The sunshine exploding from her cuffed wrist extinguished like it had never existed. The room plunged into shadows.

“What are you?” I croaked.

She lifted her head in my direction and whispered, “You already know.” Her words trailed off into an agonized moan as she convulsed on the floor.

My heart clenched with worry as my mind rebelled.

I tried to crawl forward to help her, but exhaustion punched through me, and I collapsed face first onto blood-covered stone.

The threat was eliminated.

But was it?

As I drifted into consciousness, the Latin saying, “Anima tua est mori,” repeated inside my head. Its literal translation was, “Your soul must die.”

The white ropes made of flames had been their souls stretching as she pulled them out of their bodies.

She’d consumed them.

The kings were the chosen soldiers of the sun god, and even they could only see souls and judge them; they couldn’t take them.

The power to consume a soul was the ability of a dark god.

Jinx had destroyed them all—she was a terrible creature of lore.