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Gabi froze as the word snaked through the high ceilings, sending chills down her sound.
“Stay back,” her dad barked—either at Frau Perchta or the witches, Gabi couldn’t tell.
“Nice.”
Gabi spun, wishing she had a long-distance weapon, wishing her environmental magic was reliable. She was suddenlyveryaware of the coven beside her, and their immediate danger.
Maisie let out a threatening sound at Gabi’s feet, but what could she do? What couldanyof them do, against a witch as old and psychotic as Frau Perchta?
“Nice. Nice. Nice. Nice.”
In the doorway, like a pale spectre, Katrina appeared, her eyes bright as she looked at each of them, her tan suit incongruous with the insanity in her voice. Her eyes slid to Bo, to Peregrine, and both of them went ramrod straight in response to her perusal. Her judgement.
“Nice. Naughty.”
“Back off,” Bo ordered again, gravel in his voice.
“Two,” Perchta breathed. “Two of you have been bad. But don’t worry. I can absolve you.”
THIRTY-ONE
JOY
“Oh god,” Joy breathed.
Her heart leapt into her throat when Gabi shielded her with her body. Joy wanted to step around her, to shieldGabi, but she was frozen in place.
Her heart raced so hard she could feel it against her ribs. Perchta was the most beautiful woman Joy had ever seen, with straight icy hair, soft features, a warm smile, and a statuesque body. Her voice was delicate but the words themselves chilled Joy until she trembled. This was who had killed Freya, who attacked Neil Ivers and hurt Victoriya.
Katrina.
She’d visited Joy in her cell, even brought her a bottle of water; she’d beenkind. What a lie. When she’d recoiled from the water on Joy’s hand, had she been trying tohurtJoy Esther than heal her?
Looking at Perchta now, it was hard to reconcile her image of the killer—wizened and twisted, with cruelty in every inch of her sneering face—with this pretty woman.
Katrina took a step and Joy flinched. Everyone did. She was still staring, trying to catch up to the danger of the situation, waiting for the pounding of her heart to convert into the screaming urge torun,toflee.But she could only stare, breathing so fast, at the woman who had hurt her friend and her witch sister.
But behind them, Victoriya moaned, and Joy slammed back to reality with a start. Anger, clearing and pure, burned out the fear. This monster had hurt Victoriya.
Joy snatched a sachet from her pocket and ripped it open so she was ready. She couldn’t let Katrina get to Victoriya again. She wouldn’t. It was the only thing she was sure of. It was like Gabi had said—Victoriya was their first priority.
Around her, Gus and Eilidh reached for their own spells, wands gripped in fists. Joy had been so focused on getting to Victoriya, on not thinking about what might have happened to her, that she hadn’t contemplated the idea offighting. Making offensive sachets was one thing but …this?
Joy flinched back a step when Salma yelled a short incantation in her native Arabic, the words like a call to arms. She drew her arm back and hurled a bottle of potion, the crash of glass shattering over the filing cabinets making Joy’s breath short.
She didn’t know how to fight. She didn’t know what to do, and horror filled her with ice when Katrina lunged across the threshold.
Move!Joy screamed at herself.Do something! Don’t just stand here waiting to be killed!
Peregrine was inching steadily closer, no doubt calling up elven magic, but Katrina shot forward and grabbed him. Joy stumbled closer in instinctive panic, her wand snapping up as Katrina pulled him close and whispered a word.
From across the room, it sounded likewhiskers, but Joy sensed it was witchcraft, black and cruel and controlling. It must have been part of an incantation because as Joy lurched forward to help, to dosomething, Katrina opened her mouth again—
Peregrine yelled in pain, Katrina grinning—until Salma’s shattered potion finally took effect.
Thick, silver smoke bubbled up and filled the room, and Joy froze between one step and the next, unable to see in front of her. A grunt came from across the room, followed by a feminine growl of frustration.
“Peregrine?” Gabi demanded, shrill with panic.
