She—she hadn’t thought about that.
She didn’t want to think about that.
She wouldn’t think about that.
“Calm down,” said James. “Nothing’s changed. We’re still here, and your deal is up in two months!”
“And then what happens?” Cora paced back and forth, a caged animal behind bars she had only just discovered. “When we get our hearts back, who’s to say what—”
Her eyes suddenly widened.
“What happened to the rest of your troop?” she said. “You transferred into this one, but you never told us why.”
James’s face was as still as a mask. “I was the last of my troop in Rome.”
“Because they got their hearts back?” Cora’s hands were balled. “Or because they were dead?”
James narrowed his eyes and for the first time, Dee saw a sharp sliver of anger in his gaze. She was so used to thinking of him as harmless and good-natured.
Cora took another step toward him. “That… thing we saw. Have you ever seen anything like it before?”
He hesitated, and Dee went cold.
“James,” said Cal, sounding hurt.
James threw him a look. “I never saw one moving, all right? But—in Rome. There was a void that… there were parts. I saw body parts. Unmatched fingers, holding a crate of explosives.” His gaze darted to Dee, then away, as if he didn’t want to meet her gaze. “I didn’t know why, but I think—I think most demons use those things, instead of people like us. They explode the voids using a Franken-giant, like we saw in there.”
Cora’s lips pulled taut. “Walking corpses. That’s what can destroy the voids. People like us.” She turned on her heel and strode away from him, gazing down at the river below. She shivered violently, then pushed her arms through the jacket, pulling it tightly around her.
Cal took a hesitant step toward her. “Cora…”
“Shut up,” she snapped. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing we do matters, don’t you see? Because it killed us. That thing tore out our hearts and killed us and we’re just walking corpses that don’t know we’re dead yet.
“We gave up our hearts, we sold our souls for wishes, and look where it got us! We’re thralls to a demon.”
“Speak for yourself,” said James, with an obvious attempt at levity. “I’d say I’m more of a willing minion.”
“This is wrong,” said Cora. “All of this. We shouldn’t have to do this.” She shoved her hands in the jacket’s pockets, and her face went strangely still. When her right hand emerged, she held a knitted heart.
Her fingers dug into the soft red yarn.
“I must have left that in there,” said Cal quietly. He held out a hand, reaching for it. But Cora did not move.
She gazed down at the thing with a terrible coldness. “Why do we even carry these around?” she said, her voice shaking.
There was the slam of a car door and Dee looked up. The Daemon was striding toward them, all but skidding down the gravel in his haste.
Dee glanced between Cora and the Daemon, her stomach drawn tight. It felt as though an ax were about to fall, someterrible fate about to come crashing down. “Cora—” shebegan to say, but the other girl was faster.
With a terrible snarl of fury, Cora pulled her arm back.
She threw the knitted heart. Out over the river.
Dee watched it; the red speck flew high, hung suspended in the air for one impossibly long moment, and then plummeted.
“No,” said the Daemon, and then he justvanished.
Dee blinked—wondered what had gone wrong.
