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Then he raised his head and straightened.
Isobel saw no blood—no more, at least—and she tasted relief a second time. Varen had listened. He’d heard her, and had been able to protect himself from the Noc this time.
The Noc’s face contorted with fury.
“You asked for this!” growled the monster.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Varen said.
“Turncoat!” roared the Noc.
“Your name,” Varen replied with a stiff shake of his head, blood trailing to his chin, “not mine.”
The Noc’s glower deepened, and for an instant, Isobel was sure he would attack again. The creature held off, though, seeming to deliberate. And then, without warning, his expression shifted from malice to delight.
“Our name is always the same,” said the ghoul, grinning widely as he aimed a curved red claw at Varen, “whether or not you care to admit it.”
As the Noc spoke, his outstretched hand began to change, claws receding, porcelain shell morphing into pale flesh. “We are the same,” the monster added, his voice shedding its caustic tone for a more familiar one.
A duplicate to the long coat Varen wore unfurled over the Noc’s figure. His dark, bloodstained feather-and-quill hair went soft and black.
“No,” Isobel muttered, and slamming hands into the ash, she pushed herself onto her feet.
Then she broke into a run, arms pumping at her sides.
But the creature had already completed his conversion, taking on the same shape that Pinfeathers, too, had shown the ability to adopt—one that mimicked Varen’s exactly. Right down to his crimson-smeared cheek, his ashy clothes, his lip ring and dirt-caked boots. Even his cool stare of derision.
“You should know by now,” Isobel heard the Noc shout as she closed in on them, his voice a perfect match to Varen’s, “that, try as you might, you can never escape the things that lie within. No matter how strong your cheering section.”
“Watch out!” Isobel screamed as the doppelgänger dove at him.
But her warning came too late.
The two Varens collided.
Falling into the ash, they rolled away, one over the other, until it was impossible to tell them apart.
40
Dual
The grappling doubles flipped to a halt as they tumbled into a clearing.
Isobel dodged through the trees after them.
“You don’t control me anymore,” she heard the victor growl as he slammed the other one hard into the dirt.
“And you don’t control me,” grunted the grounded Varen before inserting a knee between them, kicking his opponent with enough force to send him wheeling backward.
Seizing her chance, Isobel dashed into the clearing. She lurched to a halt between them and threw her arms wide, as if that could keep them separated.
To her right, the Varen who had been flung back regained his balance. At her left, the other duplicate climbed from the ash to his feet.
“Varen, whichever is you, just stop!” Isobel whipped her head back and forth, addressing them both. “Don’t you see that he wants you to fight? That she wants you to?”
Ignoring her, the doubles started toward each other again—toward her—and Isobel knew her Varen wasn’t listening. Not anymore. That left her with only one other option, and though she doubted she could appeal to the Noc, she knew she had to try.
“I said stop!” Isobel shouted. “Both of you. You’ll destroy each other.”
