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“Mags, come back, I can explain!”
She didn’t turn to look. She didn’t have her phone—her purse—nothing but the clothes on her back. But her panic didn’t care. It drove her forward. Run. Get away. Get to safety.
She had barely made it two steps out of the front of the house before a car peeled to a stop in front of her. It was black. The driver flung open the passenger side door.
“Get in, quick!” It was Father Rinaldo Lenci.
“Marguerite—wait!”
She glanced back at Gideon. His silver eyes were wide in concern as he reached for her. Harry, head attached, was a step behind the doctor—the necromancer—looking just like he should. Like a living person. Like her friend who she trusted.
But she knew better.
She looked back to Father Rinaldo.
And got in the car.
