Rochelle moved back. I could see it then, all around her—the same moving edges as the first time she was taken. In the corners of my vision, the world began to swirl and change and alter. I was going to lose her again. She would disappear.
“No!” I whispered. I ran.
But I had learned. I was not going to make the same mistakes twice. I cast my gaze away from Rochelle and the swirling magic around her, keeping it out of focus as I moved up the altar toward her.
I climbed the steps, and she was still visible, still there as long as I did not look directly at her. Death put his arms up as if to stop me, but I pushed past him.
Do not look, I ordered myself. Out of the corner of my eye, Rochelle winked out of the air. But I was faster. Just as she disappeared, I followed. My hand sank into the unseen, and something dark and strange changed in the air, in my body. I felt her hand. She pulled, as if to leave me behind. I gripped her tight.
I had barely thought of what might come next when something smacked across my side, tearing Rochelle from me. With a thump, I fell back into the chapel and hit the ground.
The chapel arches rose overhead, showering stars on the edges of my vision as I tried to catch my breath. Something slid and dropped heavily to the floor beside me, but all I could think about was the feel of her being torn from me again and the utter loneliness in my chest.“Rochelle!” I gasped. Death shouted for me, but I ignored him. Therehadto be a way. I opened my eyes and rolled over, trying to stand, only to find myself gripped firmly around my waist.
I had been so focused on losing Rochelle, I was lost to what had followed me. A great, smooth coil held me tight, surrounding me quicker than I could escape. I pushed—wiggling, flailing, confused as to which direction I should fight as it circled tighter, faster, cinching me breathless. Pain descended as a red haze over the world, and a last sob escaped from my chest. I tried to scream for Death to help, but my cry died in my throat, the air punched from my lungs.
I could have followed Rochelle. I could still find her. I thought suddenly of fire consuming Valerie and the way Death came as a darkness. My vision went black. I saw the creature and me, suspended in the dark. It was a kind of Ouroboros of golden light, spinning itself faster and brighter, keeping me from Rochelle. But there, in that place, I felt no pain and knew, somehow, it couldn’t hurt me. I pushed it lightly. One edge of the circle wobbled and then it spun, erratic, fading and dimming as it fell away. Down into the dark it went until it blinked out.
I didn’t remember to breathe until my eyes opened on the ceiling. “Where is she?” I gasped. “Did I save her? Did I use my power?” I was still on the floor. No creature. No shifting stone. I could hear again the slow mourn of the wind outside.
Lord Death stood over me, a long black shadow. “No,” he said. “She’s gone. I had to save you.”
I closed my eyes in despair.
XI.
Surrender
It was the same refrain as before, nothing new. I had lost Rochelle. I had not used my power. Without him, I would have died. My groan was half from pain and half from despair.
Lord Death offered his gloved hand. I took it, wincing. Even the motion of lifting my arm sent pain stabbing through my ribs. He pulled me up, gently but without hesitation or caution, then left me standing alone beside the altar. After a moment, I swallowed my self-pity and hobbled after him.
It was a struggle to keep up, back through the labyrinth of hallways and stone. With each step away from the empty chapel, the weight of my failure increased. I had her in my hand. I heard her voice. How had it happened all over again? I wanted to weep. I wanted to die. But I clenched my fists and kept walking. I wasn’t going to turn around and leave until he told me so. I needed to know where Rochelle had gone. I needed to bring her back.
We came to his quarters, and I doggedly followed him through the doors. He hadn’t even turned, as if he’d known I was at his heels. Of course he knew. His fist ground into the writing desk.
“Tell me, Salomé, what is the point of being my apprentice if you aren’t going to listen to me? You, who are so clearly brimming with unrestrained ability, but lack all the awareness and ability to make use of it, even to save your own life.” He gripped the edge of the desk andthe muscles in his cheek flickered as he ground his jaw. “Saints, you are frustrating to watch,” he muttered.
What could I say to argue? Nothing. Everything he spoke was the truth. I swayed, fading and unsure.
He turned to me, those unforgiving, obsidian eyes trulylookingat me, and I felt the sear of his gaze again—something no man I’d ever met could do. It tore back the feeling of my clothes and flesh, stripping me down to my very bones. “Do you value your own life so little?”
I swallowed, trying to find words in the swirl of pain and despair. “My sister,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Where did she go?”
Something unreadable flickered across his expression. “You did not see your sister. All you saw was an illusion of your desire.”
No—that could not be true. Maybe at first, walking through the doors and between the pews. But the older Rochelle, the one with the belt of stars—that had truly been her. I shook my head. “I sawher. I had her hand.”
“You saw your own desire,” he said sternly. “You held your grief.”
“Then how do you explain the creature—the thing that slid out of the place she went?”
“Youcalled that creature. You and your exasperating ability to miss what is plainly in front of your face. That was a demon’s pet,” he said as he waved his hand. “They come to anyone who calls. It is no great feat.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “Ademon? Rochelle is with a demon?”
“Listen to me,” he said, cold and quiet, cutting through my increasing hysteria. “Your sister was not there. What you saw was your own desires, your own expectations—again. You conjured her image. You called forth her memory. And with that magic, you also called other things out into this world, this realm. You think you know everything, but you know nothing.”
I didn’t want to believe him—she had felt so real. But why would he lie to me? What would he gain? I shook my head, my heart sinking.“She felt”—hot tears burned in my eyes. I clenched my fists tight to control them—“she felt so real.”
