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For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, staggering in place, Varen lifted a trembling hand to his chest.
He glanced back toward Isobel as a long streak of thick black liquid spilled over his bottom lip.
“Oh,” Isobel uttered, climbing quickly to her feet.
She stopped, though, when she realized that Varen wasn’t looking at her.
A sharp scrape of metal sent a warning chill up Isobel’s spine. Turning her head fast, she saw Reynolds duck out from behind Lilith’s disintegrating tomb, the walls of which had begun to collapse into ash.
Reynolds held a single blade at the ready, those black coined-size holes fixed on Varen.
As I am, so now are you.
Lilith’s words from the hall of mirrors clanged through Isobel’s head, and suddenly she knew Reynolds’s and Varen’s ultimate intent—the plan the two of them had apparently made without her.
To end the demon by ending Varen.
Isobel gave herself no time to think. No time to process what was happening as her surroundings began to peel away faster and faster, allowing patches of another world to show through. Her world, she realized, as flashes of blue and red light sparked in her periphery.
Sirens wailed, warped and distant—but getting closer.
Reynolds moved toward her with a purposeful, even stride.
“No,” she said as she ran to meet him. To stop him.
Somewhere behind her, tires screeched and car doors slammed. Men shouted, their voices muffled and indiscernible.
“Please!” she gasped as she crashed into Reynolds, hands latching onto his arm and pushing it down. “There has to be another way.”
To her surprise, Reynolds lowered the sword at her behest.
“I am sorry, my sweet friend,” he said, his gaze shifting to meet hers.
Isobel stopped, arrested by the deadness in Reynolds’s eyes, how it now seemed more absolute than ever before.
Why, if he had decided against making his attack, would he still apologize?
“You! Drop your weapon!” a man shouted, his voice now clear and sharp in Isobel’s ears.
“Varen, you do what he says!” screamed another, and this time, the voice was one Isobel knew.
But . . . what was Mr. Nethers doing here? How had Varen’s father found them? And why was he yelling for Varen to—?
Isobel’s eyes grew wide as she realized, with a sudden gut punch of horror, that Reynolds hadn’t intended to harm anyone.
He’d only been distracting her.
Whirling, she saw Varen turn to face the dark street now lined with police vehicles, leaving her, again, with only the view of that horrible, white, spread-winged raven.
In one hand, Varen held a black object. Lifting an arm, he aimed it toward the spinning lights and the silhouettes who, huddled behind their car doors, raised their own in response.
Isobel broke forward, terror shredding her insides.
Reynolds caught her, though. Pulling her back, he wrapped her tightly in his strong arms.
But his hold on Isobel lasted for only a second.
