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“It’s okay,” she says, blinking up at Tanner. “It doesn’t hurt too much, but Sam was right about Miranda.” She sucks in her breath, and now I understand. She’s not crying for herself; she’s crying because if I was right about Miranda it means I was right about there being no cure for Mack.

Sitting up, she nudges Tanner to one side, crosses the small space between the beds, then curls into Mack’s arms. Instinctively, he holds her close and kisses her forehead. Even in his weakened state, his need to protect her is as strong as ever.

I step back, my heart in my throat. A moment ago, I was jubilant. I saved her. She’s okay.

Except, she’s not okay.

If we lose Mack, none of us will be.

Tanner puts a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “You saved her, Sam. You got her back to us.”

“What was it?” Thornfield’s voice floats over from the corner of the room. He still looks like he wants to rip my throat out every time he speaks to me. When I don’t answer, he clarifies, “The demon. What was it?” he looks down at his hands, which are holding a glass full of blood. “I assume the real Miranda was killed? And that it took over her body? Used her as a host?”

I blink at him. Is he showing sorrow? “I don’t know. It sort of split her open, climbed out of her body. It was big, black, had tentacles.”

“Where? Miranda’s quarters?” Thornfield strides toward the door.

“There’s no point,” I call after him. “It’s gone. It dissolved when I bit it.”

“Solaris…” Kim speaks up. “But it couldn’t have been. They’re incredibly rare.”

“Solaris?” Thornfield frowns.

“They can only be killed by werewolf bites,” Kim says. “Lucky you were there, Sam. They’re⁠—”

Kim is cut off by Thornfield, who beckons for him to follow as he throws open the door. “Come with me. Now. I need to know what this thing was.”

Kim hesitates, but when he looks at Mack, and Snow, and the others, he nods slowly. Thornfield might be leaving for his own ends, but Kim is leaving because he knows we need to be together.

Just us.

Perhaps for the last time.

21

NOVA

Silence swells in the room.

It doesn’t make sense. This can’t be it. It just can’t be.

I know the others are thinking the same thing because Tanner is bent double over his knees, rubbing his temples. Kole is so still it’s like he's barely there anymore, and Sam is standing by the window, shoulders shaking.

Silently, I beg him not to turn around because I can't see the look on his face and stay upright. I’ll fall to my knees, and scream, and beat the ground with my fists, and never want to get up.

There is no elixir. Mack is going to die. He is still talking, still sitting upright, but he is in pain, and the look on Tanner’s face tells me we are out of time.

It’s not a matter of days now.

With no elixir, and no other hope for a cure, we are approaching the end.

My head spins. My vision is blurred, and my entire body feels like it’s going to splinter and crack and disintegrate under the weight of my rapidly approaching grief.

“Maybe my blood will help?” I lift my wrist, willing to split it open with my fingernails if it will help Mack. But he shakes his head. “Any effects would be temporary, Little Star.”

“Then you’d just have to keep drinking.” I cup his face in my hands and stare into his eyes.

“Besides,” he says, “it was your beautiful blood that—” He stops. He realizes what he’s said.