“This is different. Everything is different! Gemma isn’t going to erase you from her heart.”

  “We can’t know that for sure, and I don’t want to lose her. I’m willing to lose myself. I’m even willing to lose you two if you’re not with me on this. I’m sorry, but not her—I can’t lose her.”

  “Evan,” Ginevra said. Reading the desperation in my thoughts had calmed her. “There’s a good chance it won’t happen. I wouldn’t tell you that if I didn’t believe it. Gemma is strong and can withstand evil.”

  “But she doesn’t want to go through with it,” I snarled. “She’s afraid. She’s afraid of herself; I can feel it. Every night in her dreams I feel the terror consuming her. She doesn’t want to undergo the transformation any longer because she’s afraid she can’t do it. I’ve seen how powerfully evil possesses her—you two have seen it for yourselves.”

  “That’s because she hasn’t transformed yet. Once she has, she’ll be capable of controlling all that power, but she can’t do it as long as she’s still human. Evil is like a beast trapped inside her.”

  “And I’m not willing to set it free. Not if it means Gemma could become my enemy. I’m sorry.”

  “She made a deal with the devil herself, Evan. There’s no turning back.”

  “Ambrosia will free her.”

  “That’s insane!” my brother roared.

  “Why don’t you ever agree with me?!” I groaned in frustration.

  “Because you’re reckless,” Simon retorted, “and because your love for Gemma is making you desperate.”

  “I’m not crazy and I’ll prove it to you.”

  “Evan, think about this.” Simon struggled to stay calm, hoping I would listen to him. “If making Gemma drink Ambrosia was enough to prevent her from becoming a Witch, don’t you think the Màsala would have done that already—not only with her, but with all the other Sisters?!”

  “The Màsala can’t go against what God Himself has decreed. The Witches are His gift to Sophìa. One every five hundred years. He made a promise,” Ginevra put in.

  “But they also decided to intervene by trying to kill her before she could transform, and who has to pay the consequences for their dirty tricks? We do!” I shouted, beside myself. “A random accident that happens to a soon-to-be Witch goes unnoticed, whereas purifying her with the Divine Fruit would expose them, revealing their treachery, which would mean another Witch might get called in to replace Gemma and they’d be back at square one. For the Màsala, nothing would change. For me, everything would.”

  “Purification didn’t work on Sophìa,” Ginevra reminded me. “Not even the Diamantea cage eradicated evil from her heart.”

  “Gemma isn’t the devil. It might work on her.”

  “But then what happens?” Simon asked. “You don’t know.”

  “You’re still in time to reconsider,” Ginevra added. “Maybe Gemma can undergo the transformation without losing herself. There’s still hope.”

  “Hope isn’t enough for me, Gin. I need to do something.”

  Simon shook his head. “I can’t let you. It’s too big a risk for you.”

  “She’s already agreed. If you want to prevent it, you’ll have to go through me.” I stared at Simon, my eyes brimming with defiance.

  “Fine, if it’ll knock some sense into you.” Simon took off his shirt and I did the same, assuming a defensive stance. He materialized behind me and grabbed me by the shoulders, but I warded off his attack and tried to shove him off balance.

  “My mind’s made up,” I said resolutely.

  He threw a punch but I blocked his arm and knocked him to the floor. He deftly dragged me down with him and the battle ensued amid broken glass and shattered stones. I grabbed Simon and slammed him against a wall, which cracked under the blow.

  “That’s enough!” Ginevra yelled.

  But with a snarl Simon struck me full in the chest, sending me flying backwards, gritting my teeth from the pain. I fell to my knees, panting. He’d burned me with white fire. “You bastard,” I murmured.

  “I can’t believe this. You’re like two little kids. We’ve got to stick together! You even agreed to join forces with the Witches and now you’re fighting each other?”

  Simon held out his hand to help me up and I took it, groaning from the pain. “Sorry, bro,” he said, nodding at the scorch marks the fire had left on my chest.

  “You play dirty,” I said reproachfully.

  “I did it for you. I can’t let you do something so crazy.” He rested his hand on my shoulder and the burns slowly healed.

  “Sorry, but there’s no talking me out of it. Not this time.” When I’d fallen in love with Gemma, my only fear had been that she would be afraid of me, but now I had a bigger fear: that she would see me as an enemy.

  “It’s not up to us to decide, unfortunately,” Ginevra said. There was a hint of sorrow in her eyes. I knew that deep down, a small part of her wanted Gemma to transform. “Is that really what she wants?”

  “Yes.”

  “She did a good job hiding it. She had a good teacher.” Ginevra looked at me sharply.

  “No one’s better than me at keeping you out, remember? I’ve thought a lot about the possible consequences, believe me. I know there may be a high price to pay, but my mind’s made up: once the baby is born, Gemma is going to drink Ambrosia.”

  “Making a decision is always an act of courage,” Ginevra said softly.

  “Sometimes courage lies in backing down,” Simon countered, still far from convinced. He turned to me. “What makes you think she won’t transform all the same?”

  “I need this hope. Don’t take it away from me. It’s all I’ve got. Some risks are worth fighting for.”

  “Such vehemence in your eyes.” I jumped at Devina’s voice and glanced at Ginevra. How much of our conversation had she overheard? I could see Ginevra looking at Devina, searching her mind. She looked at me and shook her head.

  Devina circled me, stroking my bare chest. “Aw, did my Champion get wounded in battle?” She gazed at me with tender eyes while I glowered back at her. I grabbed her wrists roughly, taking her hands off me.

  She smiled. “You always did know how to turn me on.”

  “I’m not your Champion.”

  “Not yet. Hope springs eternal.” With a wink, she turned her back on me and cracked her whip.

  I need this hope. The words I’d just said a minute ago whirled through my head. What if Devina was capable of hiding the truth from Ginevra too? No. She couldn’t have overheard our conversation. My sister would have realized it.

  “Don’t you knock before appearing?” Simon asked her curtly.

  Devina looked him over from head to toe. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she said provocatively. “We could have a nice party here, just the four of us. What do you say?” She winked at Simon.

  Ginevra stepped in front of her. “Why don’t we have one, just you and me?” she challenged, her eyes burning into Devina’s.

  “Okay, blondie, don’t get all worked up.”

  Anya walked through the door leading downstairs. “What’s going on? Haven’t you told them yet?”

  “I was just about to,” Devina said.

  “Told us what?”

  “We’re going to have a problem pretty soon. The Subterraneans are fading because they haven’t eaten of the Tree for such a long time.”

  “So soon?” I asked, worried. “It’s only been a few months.”

  “It’s our poison. The blood we give them and the magic we use to keep them under control saps their energy. That’s why we think they’re going to fade away soon. I don’t know how much longer they have. The baby should have been born by now. We didn’t expect things to go on this long. Soon they’ll begin to disappear into Oblivion.”

  “What a waste!” Devina groaned. “Let’s at least claim their souls before they disappear—that way they’ll end up in Hell instead of vanishing. Some of them have even begged me: ‘Please, I don’t want to end up in Oblivion!’ Cowards! Still, it’s been torture, not being able to give in to their wishes.”

  “Cut it out, Dev,” Anya told her. “That’s not the problem. If the prisoners die . . .”

  “Others will come,” Simon thought aloud.

  “So we fight them,” I continued, resolute. I was prepared to do anything. No one was going to stop me.

  THE FOREST AWAKENS

  “Is Gemma still with Peter?” Simon asked me as he walked into the workout room.

  The punching bag was still swinging from my blows. I stopped it with my forearm. “Yeah. It’s a rough moment for him. He needs her.”

  “How’s Gemma handling it?”

  “She’s strong. She’ll manage to help him through it.”

  “Not that.” Simon sent me a knowing look.

  Gemma had watched me carry out an order. The sight of her eyes filling with darkness had shaken me, but I didn’t tell Simon about that. I grabbed a long steel staff and began practicing with it, twirling it in front of me. “It wasn’t the first time it had happened, actually. She’d already seen Drake take somebody right before the accident in my Ferrari,” I said, mostly trying to reassure myself. I spun the stick and shifted it from hand to hand.

  “That’s not the same thing,” Simon insisted.

  “What do you want me to say, that I’m scared? Yeah, I am. Happy now?” I exclaimed in exasperation. “I took that man’s life right in front of her eyes and I have no idea how she’s going to see me from now on.”

  Simon removed his shirt and started punching the bag that hung from the ceiling, glancing at me from over his rear fist. “Why don’t you ask her?”

  I stopped, the staff slamming to a halt in my palm. “You’re right. It’s been hours. I’d better get Gemma some lunch.”

  “Otherwise she might eat some of her friends,” Simon joked. I shot him a dirty look, holding back a grin, then focused on Gemma. A second later, I frowned.

  “What’s up?” he asked, seeing my expression suddenly go grave.

  “I can’t find her,” I said, worried.

  “What do you mean you can’t find her?” He too tried to search for Gemma’s soul, but a second later his eyes met mine. “You’re right. I can’t sense her aura.”

  I searched for Peter’s soul and quickly found it: he was with his mother, but Gemma wasn’t there. “What the fuck is going on? Where did she go?” I materialized upstairs in the living room and Simon followed me. “Gwen, try to find Gemma. I can’t.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  “I mean you have to track down her thoughts, damn it!” I snapped, out of my mind with worry.

  Ginevra stood there listening, combing the whole town in search of Gemma’s mind. She stared into space for a moment before finally turning to me, disheartened. She couldn’t find her either. I grabbed my hair in desperation.

  “Calm down, Evan. It doesn’t mean anything,” Simon reassured me.

  A surge of rage filled my chest. I struck the glass coffee table with my fist, shattering it into a thousand pieces, furious at myself for having been so careless. “I shouldn’t have let her go! We can’t find Gemma. How can you think I could possibly calm down?! Do you know what this means? She might even be dead!” I shouted in despair.

  “Evan, you know that’s not the only possible explanation,” Ginevra said. “Evil has probably taken her over. That’s been happening more and more often lately.”

  I tried to calm myself. She was right. Gemma couldn’t be dead—the Subterraneans were all under lock and key. She wasn’t running any risks. But then where was she? Her experience with Peter’s father must have brought back the darkness. When her mind was possessed, not even the Witches could sense her. She disappeared as though she no longer existed. At Peter’s house I’d seen her eyes transform. I shouldn’t have left her alone. What a fool I’d been!

  “She’s in the forest,” Devina said, materializing next to us.

  I rushed at her and squeezed my hand around her neck, shoving her against the wall. “How do you know that? Did you take her there?” Her serpent burst through her skin, poised to attack me, its fiery eyes defiant.

  “Enough! You’re losing control,” Ginevra shouted, stepping between us. “Evan, you need to calm down. Devina knows where Gemma is. That’s a good thing.” Devina smiled at me, her catlike eyes locked on mine.

  “And you, try to be clearer and tell us exactly where Gemma is,” her Sister said.

  “Only when the Spartan gets over his urge to kill me.”

  “Then we’ll never know,” I snarled through clenched teeth. “Put your serpent away,” I warned her.

  She smiled, her gaze provocative. “Why don’t you take yours out? Please?”

  “Tell me where Gemma is!” I slammed my palms against the wall on either side of her head, cracking it.

  “She’s in the forest,” Ginevra said, reading the Witch’s mind, “near the Peninsula Trail by the old Howard Johnson.”

  “I know where that is.” We’d been there a thousand times before, alone or with her friends. But why had Gemma gone there?

  “We’ll come with you,” Simon was quick to offer.

  “No,” I said. “I’m going alone. I’ll contact you if I need you.” He nodded, realizing that after what had happened at Peter’s house I needed to talk to Gemma alone.

  I vanished and rematerialized in the forest, unsure exactly where Gemma was—I still couldn’t sense her soul. I wandered through the trees, calling her name, but there was no sign of her. A boat was making its way across the river. There seemed to be injured people on board but I didn’t have time to look into it. Gemma wasn’t with them.

  Then I saw her.

  “Gemma . . .” I murmured, my heart in turmoil. She was curled up on the ground, head down. “Gemma!” I cried as I rushed to her. She heard me and raised her head. A second later I was holding her in my arms. She clung to me as though afraid she would sink into the earth.

  “Evan,” she sobbed.

  “My love, what happened? I was going out of my mind.”

  She clung to me harder and wept, shattering my heart into a million pieces. “It was terrible,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be like this. Save me, Evan, I’m begging you.”

  I stroked her hair and closed my eyes. How could I even think of letting her transform? “It’s over. I’m here now,” I said softly. Feeling the desperate need to keep her with me, I held her close. There was dirt under her fingernails. She must have sunk her hands into the ground as she abandoned herself to the tears. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “What were you doing here?”

  She shook her head, drying her tears. “I don’t know. I found myself here. The other night I dreamed of the Peninsula Trail—maybe that’s why. I felt this shooting pain in my temples and suddenly my mind was filled with the thoughts of people I didn’t know. Prayers, desires. My head was about to explode. And then I heard your voice. It was you, guiding me through the darkness.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “I know, but at the moment I believed it was. I must have imagined it.”

  “Or maybe not.” Gemma looked at me and frowned, seeing the fire in my eyes. “Did you happen to see Devina while you were coming here?”

  “No, but . . . You’re right. Now I remember clearly. I thought it was you, but it wasn’t really your voice. It was hers. She was telling me to follow my instinct.”

  “I’m going to kill that bitch!” I snarled, gritting my teeth.

  Gemma took my hands and I tried to remain calm. “You can’t hold it against her. They want me with them—they’ve never made a secret of that. It’s my fault. It’s what I am,” she murmured, distraught.

  “No it isn’t, and it never will be,” I said with conviction. I wouldn’t let evil drag her away. I couldn’t bear to see her like this, defenseless. I would offer myself in her place if it meant saving her from the darkness.

  Gemma stared at her hands, still trembling. “Evil is inside me. I can feel it growing every day.” I clenched my jaw. At that moment—more than ever before—I longed to have her drink the nectar of the Divine Fruit. I didn’t care what Simon thought. I didn’t care what the consequences would be. “Maybe there’s no hope for me any more. The darkness is consuming me,” she whispered, tears in her eyes.

  “Don’t say that. Please don’t.”

  Gemma looked at me. The sorrow in her eyes was a knife driven into my heart. “You don’t understand,” she murmured in a barely audible voice. “I killed him.”

  My eyes widened. “What are you talking about, Gemma? Who did you kill?”

  Gemma wasn’t listening to me. She seemed lost in the memory. “I wanted his soul.” An icy shiver crept over me, trapping my breath in my lungs. She continued: “It was so easy. I saw a boat. On it, a dog was whimpering. Someone had hit it. Blind rage flooded me and I felt I couldn’t allow it. A second later there I was, on board with them. Not my body, just my soul. My dark, dangerous soul. The owner of the dog had rushed the guy and I told him not to stop. ‘Hit him! He’s a filthy bastard!’ And so he hit him.

  “Their wives were screaming, trying to get them to stop, but the two kept fighting and the boat rocked on the current. Then the guy fell and the dog’s owner grabbed him, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes. He held the guy’s head over the side of the boat, blinded by the rage that I was fueling. ‘Stop it!’ the women screamed. But he didn’t stop, because I didn’t want him to. I wanted him to keep going. I wanted him to kill the guy.

  “‘Not so tough when you’re the one getting beat up, are you, asshole?’ he shouted, repeating the words I put into his head. He slammed the man’s head against the boat. The dog was barking. The women were crying. I was electrified by his energy.

  “‘Okay, you win,’ the other man said, pleading. ‘I shouldn’t have hit your dog. I’m sorry.’ His teeth were covered with blood and he could barely breathe. The dog’s owner loosened his grip, so I went up to him. ‘Kill him. Otherwise he might do it again. He deserves to be punished,’ I whispered in his ear.