Iago-remember her?-may not have a ginormous role in that particular book, but you can blame her, directly or indirectly, for everything. Ever. This family made the grave mistake of pissing her off, and she's not too happy. She's never really happy, but...well, you get what I mean. I hope.
Still working out the specifics for her arrival, but this scene, right here, really defines her. Poor Quincy. You won't meet him for a while, but that doesn't really matter.
* * *
Quincy had long since quit trying to stay upright. What remained of his clothes were stuck to him with either sweat or blood and he couldn’t see straight anymore.
The guard holding his wrists let go and he dropped to his knees. This was it. He was going to die. He didn’t even care.
Iago knelt in front of him and made him lift his head.
“Hello, sweetie.” she said softly. “Ready to talk to me?”
“No.” He tried to pull his head away and she tightened her grip on his face. “No.”
“Resilient little bugger, aren’t you?” She laughed. “I think I might grow to like you.”
She kissed him, that horrible forked tongue snaking down his throat. He tasted brimstone, choked and tried to pull away again. This time she let him. He vomited, but now the brimstone was flavored with bile.
“Get him out of my sight.” When the men didn’t move, she cracked her whip. “Now!”
* * *
Nice girl, isn't she? Loves pain, that one. And people. She eats people sometimes. She'd like to eat Quincy, but she's not allowed right now. I need him.