“I don’t know.”

  Hiram’s phone rings again. Irritated, he pulls it out and sees Gabriel’s name. “What the hell is it?”

  “Are you home?”

  “No.”

  “Good. We heard a call on the radio about an incident at your address. Your neighbor reported an issue with your talisman. Someone tried to neutralize it, but it backfired and is now sending out shock waves. This is exactly what Everett did at Lucinda’s. Francisco and I are en route to check it out, but there’s a . . .”

  Whatever else he says becomes background noise.

  Veda’s eyes roll back, and she collapses into Khadijah. In sync, she and Gabriel say the same thing.

  “We have a problem.”

  Thirty-One

  Time slips through Veda’s fingers like sand in an hourglass. Fear burns her chest, but when she looks at Antaris, she steadies herself.

  The inevitable is here.

  “I’m fine,” Veda insists when Hiram hesitates, torn between staying and going. “Let’s keep moving forward with the plan.” Her voice falters. “W-we have time.”

  Not much.

  Hiram knows it. Veda sees it in his eyes, feels it in the way he kisses her goodbye. For the first time, he makes her the same promise he always makes Antaris. “I’ll be right back.”

  Khadijah is still staring when the door closes behind Hiram. Veda’s eyes slide to Antaris, then back. “Keep it normal.”

  Khadijah nods and walks away, returning with a glass of water. “You should sit down, you probably passed out from the fever. It’s high.”

  “I didn’t realize I was that warm.” Veda sinks into the sofa. Mere seconds is all it takes for Antaris to sit next to her, anxiously wringing his hands. She drinks slowly; the water burns like acid. Still, she pulls him close and holds him tight. Whatever happens, she knows this is going to be hard on him.

  Khadijah checks her temperature again. “You’re still too warm.”

  “I just need to rest.”

  And that’s when they all hear it.

  Glass splitting.

  A crack bisects the protective cloak of magic around her cottage. A single point of impact that shouldn’t exist. It spiderwebs out in all directions, the pitch equivalent to nails on a chalkboard, making them grit their teeth and cover their ears.

  Too late, Veda realizes what’s happening. She pulls Antaris and Khadijah away as the cloak implodes. Fractured magic rains down like shrapnel, smashing through the glass ceiling of the solarium.

  “We can’t stay here!”

  An explosion rocks the foundation of the cottage. Instead of falling, Veda instinctively grabs the startled Antaris and drops to the floor, shielding him from debris. The floor shakes in the aftermath, sending vibrations through the room. Khadijah scrambles toward the refrigerator for support, while Veda hurriedly scoots her and Antaris to the couch. Her ears are ringing.

  A cheery, girlish giggle cuts through the space. “Oh my, look what I’ve done,” the voice lilts, saccharine and sweet. “Knock, knock. Is anyone home?”

  Freezing, Veda locks eyes with Khadijah. She would recognize Ariadne’s accent anywhere.

  “It was so hard to get here,” Ariadne says, rot curling beneath the honey. “Then, lucky me, a few weeks ago, when I was looking for this place, I got lost, took a few wrong turns, and oh my Cosmos, I happened to see a familiar bike pull onto the street from outta nowhere. It was kismet. I just knew this had to be the place.”

  Veda locks eyes with Khadijah again and points to the solarium. It’s a terrible idea, but they’re out of options and there’s no time.

  “I know you’re here, Veda,” Ariadne coos, exposing more of that rot. “Don’t be shy, I only want to talk.”

  The last word crashes through the house with a spell. The walls quake from the force. Veda clutches Antaris to her chest. Adrenaline racing, she cradles his head tightly as the floor trembles so violently, she feels the tremors deep in her bones.

  Khadijah holds up three fingers.

  Lights flicker as approaching footsteps echo on the floor.

  She drops one.

  Veda blinks through the pain, vision swimming.

  Two more fingers drop.

  Khadijah rises from her hiding spot, cold eyes glowing silver. She snaps her fingers, and there’s a crash.

  “Nice of you to throw me into a wall,” Ariadne greets coolly.

  “It’s the least I could do.”

  A click of a tongue. Ariadne’s spell barely misses Khadijah, whose defense holds strong. With no time to look, Veda grabs Antaris’s hand and runs, catching glimpses of the two women locked in battle. A spell whizzes past Veda’s head as they dart through the broken window, leaping out onto shattered glass.

  Into the forest, they run until the cottage fades from view. The sounds of war are swallowed by trees. A wave of exhaustion crashes over Veda, forcing her to stumble, then push through. Antaris looks stricken with worry. She wipes sweat from her brow, turns her head, and coughs. Her body tenses when she sees specks of blood in her palm, but she quickly wipes it on her jeans and keeps going.

  “It’s fine,” she reassures Antaris. It’s the first lie she’s told him.

  She pushes on, deeper into the forest, searching for sanctuary. She knows every hiding place, the closest being hollowed-out trees, all dead from rot. Veda finds one and tells Antaris to crawl into it. He’s safely tucked away before another explosion cracks the air, its echo finding them in the trees. It came from her house. Antaris leans out, distracted and breathing harshly. Cupping his cheeks, Veda makes him look at her.

  “Antaris.” Somehow she keeps her voice calm, even. “I need you to hide here. Don’t move. Don’t come out. Not even if someone calls your name.”

  He shakes his head, and the sob that escapes him is too big for his small body.

  “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” Veda takes his hands. “I need to keep you safe.”

  Tears keep falling.

  “Mom.”

  The word knocks the breath out of her.

  She pulls him into a hug. “You’re the soul of the scorpion, remember?”

  Antaris nods, face pressed to her neck. Veda pulls back, meeting his tear-filled eyes as he keeps sobbing.

  “Where are your dad’s notes?”

  He pulls a few out of his pocket. She tucks one into hers with the vials of the Liquid Curse while putting the other two into his hands. “Close your eyes and be very quiet. Think about your dad, and he will find you.”

  Antaris nods numbly.

  Veda presses her lips to his forehead in a moment of comfort for them both and closes her eyes. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever see him again. There’s no easy way to say goodbye, and she doesn’t want to, but she forces herself to pull back.

  Antaris obediently sinks into the tree trunk, and only then does she run.

  Veda heads away from him, toward the school. Adrenaline stops being enough to shield her from the ache in her ribs, the blood in her cough, the dizziness and nausea that come in increasing waves. Her run devolves into a staggered walk.

  What once was loud is now eerily quiet.

  A twig snaps. Her blood runs cold.

  Veda whirls around to see Ariadne stomping through the forest, heading in the direction where Antaris is hiding. For Veda, the decision is easy. She starts running, sending a flare into the sky. Bursting over the trees, the flare alerts Ariadne to her presence. Veda runs harder than she ever has in her life, but it’s not enough. Her lungs burn for air, and her body slows despite her brain screaming for it to keep moving. She slumps against a tree, panting, knowing it’s over. There’s nowhere left to run.

  “Well, well, well.” Ariadne’s voice drips with delight from behind her. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. Had I known you were the answer, I would’ve taken you that night in the apartment.”

  Veda turns to face her. “Where’s Khadijah?”

  “Alive.” Her sickly smile twists. “Barely. I was running low, and she gave me exactly what I needed.”

  Veda’s stomach turns.

  “Oh my.” Ariadne covers her mouth, eyes on Veda’s neck. “Thank the Cosmos I got you alone just in time; I can finally get back what I deserve.”

  Veda dodges a blue orb that embeds itself in the tree behind her. Cornered, she charges toward Ariadne, barely avoiding a bolt of magic that glows like the sun. Her fist connects. The force sends Ariadne stumbling back, but she gets back up with a smile, as though the pain is a pleasure.

  “Nice.” She spits out red, running her tongue over the blood smearing her mouth. “My turn.”

  Like fighting an unstoppable force, the more Veda dodges, the faster Ariadnes comes at her. Curses fly. Veda ducks behind trees and stone, breathing harshly before countering the best she can with what repercussions she can afford. Chills. Cuts form on her skin. A splitting headache. Her lungs tighten when she diverts a glowing red spell, forcing it into a nearby tree. The bark blackens, cracking and falling in a harsh crash, before it ignites. Flames frame the leaves as smoke billows around them.

  Veda uses the distraction to levitate the burning tree, hurling it in Ariadne’s direction. The impact sends Ariadne flying backward, slamming her into the base of another tree.

  Veda coughs up blood, and her vision blurs. She doesn’t know what hurts more, the waking Sanguis curse or each consequence she pays for the magic she uses. The strain from her effort reaches the marrow of her bones. Sweat drenches her forehead, and blood streams steadily from her nose. Holding her ground, Veda pours her remaining strength into casting spell after spell to keep Ariadne at bay.

  Still, it’s no use.

  A gray orb hits her square in the chest, robbing her of breath. She can’t move. Can’t see. Breathing in the smoke, there’s no air left for her to exhale.

  Ariadne forces Veda to her knees, stepping closer with a chilling smile. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

  White-hot pain explodes through Veda’s body. Black veins paint her skin, threaded with red. Ariadne’s essence flows through her bloodstream.

  “Visus.” At first, Ariadne’s spell doesn’t hurt. Then it burns. Veda’s eyes throb. The forest thickens with youth, thins with age, burns with death. Past. Present. Future. Then it fades into Ariadne’s delighted eyes. “There it is. Potential. What lives in you belongs to me.”

  Veda feels like she’s been split open. Cracked into two halves of what once was whole.

  Everything stops.

  “Wait, no. No. No! Not now,” Ariadne screams.

  What’s been in hibernation is now fully awake.

  Still trapped behind the block, Sanguis roars to life in her cells, tearing through muscles and sinew. Veda’s head swims. Blood thunders in her ears. She grips her chest, struggling to breathe, every muscle locking tight as she curls into a fetal position.

  Ariadne drops to her knees beside her, hands moving like she’s trying to capture it. But she can’t.

  “It’s . . . coming for you,” Veda gets out.

  Ariadne’s panic turns into fury as she grabs Veda by the neck, squeezing until her airway closes. Veda struggles, her body writhing, but her hand finds exactly what she’s looking for. One vial slips from her grasp. The other she clutches tightly, even as the edges of her vision darken.

  “When I’m done here, I’m going to find that sweet little boy of Grace’s and—”

  Veda surges up and headbutts her.

  Ariadne stumbles back, momentarily stunned. What follows feels like being electrocuted repeatedly. Veda hears screaming and realizes too late that it’s her own.

  Ariadne releases her. Veda drops to the ground, coughing so violently, she vomits. There’s no mistaking the blood. Or the cracked vial next to it. The potion spills, clear and bright, beading like mercury instead of sinking into the soil. A sudden kick to her ribs sends her sprawling on her back. Then a hand grips her hair, yanking her upright as Ariadne begins to chant. With her last burst of strength, Veda slams her hand down onto the broken vial and reaches up, slapping Ariadne across the face, cutting her words off.

  They both scream from the pain.

  Ariadne recoils, looking furious, ready to end it all.

  But she doesn’t. She can’t.

  She shakes her hands but nothing happens. No magic.

  “What did you do to me?” she shrieks.

  “I killed us both,” Veda rasps. “Liquid Curse.”

  Ariadne pales, shock stealing her breath. Then the anger comes roaring back as she punches Veda in the face. Welcoming the blow, Veda laughs, broken and breathless.

  Ariadne staggers away, clawing at her arms as if she can scrape the curse off. She won’t get far. Rolling onto her stomach, Veda tries to crawl, gasping for breath and finally feeling what she’s been ignoring: agony. Bone deep, the torment is ripping at the seams of her soul. She coughs, and red tar escapes her mouth, thick, putrid, and alive. It lands on the ground with a wet plop, then slithers away into the underbrush.

  Veda’s finally free of Ariadne’s blood . . . if only for a few minutes.

  She tears off her ring, flips it open, and takes the crushed foxgloves. It’ll be quicker this way. She forces herself to roll onto her back and stare at the sky.

  Only the Cosmos bear witness to her screams and sobs. The trees stand silent, listening long after her cries dissolve into choked, gasping breaths as she surrenders to her fate. Blood seeps into the earth, spreading until she no longer feels pain. Only peace remains when the smoke and fire close in.

  The last thing she remembers is squeezing the note in her pocket, Hiram’s name on her lips.

  Thirty-Two

  Hiram’s house is crawling with investigators and enforcers, most of whom are lying on the ground, dazed. He spots Francisco first, who taps Gabriel, and they break away from the group of enforcers, approaching him with urgency.

  “We quieted the talisman by putting it to sleep,” Gabriel says. “But, as you can see, this took effort.”

  Hiram stops dead at the realization.

  “It’s blood-tied to me,” he says slowly. “You can’t do anything with my talisman without me.”

  “But you didn’t register it as a blood-tied—”

  “Of course I didn’t,” Hiram interrupts, scoffing. “This was a decoy.”

  He’s already fishing his phone from his pocket, dialing Veda first. No answer. As Francisco begins giving orders, telling everyone to pack up and leave those on the ground for the healers and medics, Hiram tries Khadijah. No answer.

  Worry sets in.

  “No one is picking up.” Hiram opens his car door. “Veda’s sick from her block unraveling, but Khadijah wouldn’t ignore my call—not with Antaris there, too. We need as many people as possible over there right now.”

  Gabriel rushes over to Francisco, and Hiram can tell the moment he delivers the news. Shouts ring out as a mad scramble for their vehicles begins.

  “We’ll follow you,” Francisco says, climbing into the passenger seat of the car parked next to him. Gabriel takes the driver’s seat, starting the car with his Imprint. Hiram wastes no time. He starts his own car and pulls away quickly, dialing Peter as he speeds toward Veda’s house.

  “Where are you?” Peter sounds frantic.

  “I’m on my way back to Veda’s. The alarm at my house was a diversion. Where are you?”

  “Khadijah called me. It sounded like a war zone over there. I’m ten minutes away.”

  “I’m bringing everyone with me,” Hiram says, forcing down the rising dread. He presses harder on the accelerator, refusing to let the fear take hold.

  The sense of wrongness is as jarring as the felled trees scattered like matchsticks across the road—as obvious as the path that’s meant to be invisible.

  Hiram doesn’t wait for permission. His ring glows white when he whispers a spell, moving the trunks out of the way. He turns onto Veda’s path, a knot of nerves twisting his stomach tighter with every car that follows, all heading down a trail they were never meant to see.

  There’s no time to brace for the sight of Veda’s cottage.

  Peter is already there, trying to claw through the rubble that used to be the front porch. The roof is partially gone, bricks and debris scattered in all directions. Smoke coils from the scorched trees, and the earth is marked with blast damage. Veda’s bike is untouched, but Khadijah’s car is destroyed.

  Hiram steps out, his legs nearly buckling beneath him. Crippling dread tells him that no one could’ve survived this. Before he can help Peter clear the debris, Gabriel intercepts with a grim expression. “Let us go first.”

  So he doesn’t have to see what’s left, Hiram finishes in his head.

  “Do it.”

  It takes three investigators to clear the doorway. One of them tries to block access after Gabriel and Francisco enter. In an uncharacteristic outburst, Peter snaps, “Move out of my way or I’ll make you.”

  “You and what amulet?” the investigator sneers.

  “His.”

  Before Hiram can step in to back up Peter’s threat, Francisco bursts out of the building, panic written all over his face. “Call a healer—now!”

  While orders fly, Hiram and Peter rush past the threshold. Magic burns each of Hiram’s senses, watering his eyes and choking his lungs. It’s hard to wade through the potent waves, but he forces himself.

  Gabriel is on his knees, performing chest compressions in a desperate effort to keep Khadijah alive. Her leg lies twisted at an unnatural angle, her arms and hands marred by cuts and bruises. Once white, her hair is matted with blood and ash. Peter moves Gabriel out the way and takes over.

  Hiram pushes past them, searching the wreckage for any sign of Veda and Antaris, calling their names, panic mounting with each unanswered shout. Then Francisco calls for Hiram, and he runs over to them again.

  Khadijah is conscious, trying to catch her breath. “They . . . they ran,” she rasps. “I held Ariadne back . . . as long as I . . .” Her words dissolve in a coughing fit. “My Sight . . . she—she took it.”

  The horror that rises in Hiram is snapped by the sight of a red flare exploding in the sky.