Chapter 11
11 Pere Mal’s muscles spasmed, waking him from a dozing sleep. The first he’d had in days, ever since Kieran the Gray had eluded his forces at the Guardians’ Manor. Foreboding filled his chest before he even opened his eyes. The second his lids lifted, he cried out. He lay in his bed, clutching a vile-looking ceremonial dagger. The same one he’d used time and time again to bring forth Papa Aguiel, to shift the form of a waiting Vessel. “No!” he shouted, but it was too late. A darkness stirred in his chest as he thrust the dagger down into his body, a scream fleeing his throat. His consciousness shifted, floated away… Suddenly Papa Aguiel was staring up at a blank white ceiling. A grin split his face as he wriggled in his new skin, bones creaking and flesh stretching to reveal his true
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