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The answer is yes, Vanna would. And gods, I wish I didn’t know it.
Mist thickens the air, blotting Vanna and the suiyaks from my view. A rush of cold nips at my ankles. It’s Angma. All that’s left of her is a shadow upon the flat rock. Then nothing.
This time I don’t gloat.
I scramble to my feet, retrieve what remains of my spear. Night has come, and the suiyaks withdraw to the sky, joining the exodus of demons freed from Angma’s command.
Except for one demon. I can see only his profile, but he’s larger than the rest, with great black wings and two horns that curve like scythes. He hangs against the night, as if waiting for something. Or someone.
He turns slowly, and I see his eyes—one blue, growing dimmer by the second until it’s lost to the night, and one red, dazzling against the pale white moon.
I’m already running, but gods help me, there’s no way I will make it in time.
Hokzuh, don’t, I warn. You promised.
The demon does not hear me.
With a roar, he dives to where I last saw my sister.
And her light goes dark.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Time stops. I cannot breathe, and it’s only by the grace of Gadda that I’m running, for all of me is numb, too numb to remember how.
Do you know what it’s like turning into a demon against your will? Hokzuh asked me. It’s like having drunk far too much wine and being pushed by someone you hate to do things you despise. All while barely remembering your own name.
Gone is every trace of the Hokzuh who held my hand and kissed me. Who made me think he could be something more.
Hokzuh is a demon.
The world is spinning, and all I see is that glob of light burning in his grasp. My sister’s light. My sister’s heart.
“Vanna!” I cry when at last I reach her.
She’s lying on her side, her head in Oshli’s lap. She’s still breathing. Still alive.
Oshli is murmuring frantic words of healing, and magic stutters out of his cracked staff, but I know it’s in vain.
Angma lasted only minutes without her heart. The same will be so for Vanna. Unless—
“I’m here,” I tell my sister. “I have Angma’s pearl.”
Vanna reaches for me. For the first time I can remember, my fingers are warmer than hers. “I tried to stop him, Channi,” she says. “But I…I let my guard down. I was weak.”
Only my sister would apologize for Hokzuh’s betrayal. It isn’t fair. Vanna just got her body back. Angma is dead. We should be rejoicing. We should be going home together, holding hands, singing and dancing on our tired, aching feet.
“Not weak,” I whisper. “You fought bravely against Angma. You’ll fight bravely now. You’re strong. You’re going to be all right.” I hold up the darkly shimmering half-pearl. “Look.”
I press it toward Vanna’s chest, expecting it to fill the hole where her heart used to be. But her body won’t receive it, and she jerks away.
“It’s cold,” she cries. “It hurts.”
She needs her own heart, Ukar says, appearing from behind the bushes. The dragon half.
I grit my teeth. “Don’t go anywhere,” I order Oshli and Ukar. My voice breaks. “Keep her alive.”
I crane my neck skyward. With Vanna’s light in his possession, Hokzuh no longer blends into the night. But why hasn’t he devoured his half of the pearl yet? I see him hovering above me, angling for Angma’s pearl. If he wants it, he’ll have to pry it from my corpse.
