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“Coming after me? I’m flattered all to hell,” I say.

Medea makes a face. Behind her, Traven’s eyes flutter open. He looks around for a second, unsure what’s happening. With his sleeve he wipes blood from his eyes.

“You’d like to think that all this is for you, wouldn’t you, Abomination?”

“You sure talk like it is.”

“I call you by your true name because it’s the one thing Aelita was right about. You’re the filth of the universe.”

“So you’re not going to be in our Secret Santa pool?”

Traven gets up unsteadily behind her. I keep hold of Brigitte.

“This . . .” Medea holds up the 8 Ball. “This will do the real work now. I’ll return to Deumos and my true sisters in Hell and we’ll finally bring the Angra Om Ya back home.”

I take a step and she steps back. Right into Traven.

“No you won’t,” he says. He picks up a fist-size piece of concrete and slams it into the back of her head. Medea drops the 8 Ball and lunges after it. Before she can get her hand on the thing, Traven has his hands around her throat and pulls her upright.

He says, “You want to go to Hell? I can send you there forever.”

He plants his mouth over hers, like a terrible kiss. The Via Dolorosa. He spits millions of the sins he’s eaten over the years into her, burning her insides, turning her soul blacker than any normal human’s could ever be. Guaranteeing her the lowest depths of damnation.

But something is wrong. I’ve never seen the Dolorosa take this long before. Bava spasms and tries to push him away. Digs her nails into his face. Then goes slack. Traven’s skin is white. He lets go of Bava, tenses, and falls onto his back in some kind of seizure. I let go of Brigitte and we run over. I hold down his shoulders and Brigitte grabs his legs until it passes. When Traven opens his eyes, they’re dull and the whites are red with blood. He’s blind. His face and hands are covered in deep red hemorrhages. His heartbeat is an unsteady staccato. Each of his slow, shallow breaths is harder for him to take than the one before. When he can talk, it’s just a whisper.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I gave it to her.”

“It’s okay. You couldn’t help it. Everyone knows.”

“Does she have it?”

“No. You stopped her.”

“Liam,” says Brigitte. She’s crying, touching his bloody face. “Don’t move. We’ll get you to Allegra.”

Traven laughs when he hears her voice. She leans down and kisses him. He goes slack in her arms. She looks at me.

“Take us through a shadow. Now.”

Traven draws a deep painful breath and grabs my arm.

“Put the Qomrama in the Room. Keep it from anyone who can use it.”

I look for a dark shadow, one big enough to take all of us. I spot one by a pillar. Candy grabs the 8 Ball, but when I try to pick up Traven, he stiffens in a new round of convulsions, coughing blood.

Vidocq pushes me away. Pours something down Traven’s throat. He goes still. Brigitte is trying not to scream. When the shaking starts again, Vidocq pulls out another potion. Brigitte grabs my arm.>“Forget it. He’s fucking with us because it’s all he can do. Play around in our heads. He can go to Hell or rot down there. Either is fine by me.”

NEFESH MIGHT HAVE been playing mind games when we left, but he told the truth about the way out. Up the dead escalator. A U-turn onto the stairs and we’re back in the Gothic rain forest of Kill City’s main lobby. The Christmas tree is straight and huge, a fungus-covered evergreen where there should be a giant banana palm or kapok.

“What do we do now? Nefesh said the Qomrama is all the way at the top,” says Traven.

Candy looks at me.

“You’ve used it before. Can you summon it or call it down or something?” she says.

My gut aches. I’m dizzy but I don’t want the others to know right now.

“Even if I knew how, I don’t think I have any hoodoo left in me.”

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