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Crane is speechless. He swallows hard as he searches Brom’s face. “You’ve always had power, Brom. Over Kat, over me. You hold our hearts in your hand. What more power do you want?”

“The power to protect you,” he growls, looking to me now. “The power to actually fight back. I’m not going to let go of that, not now with our lives on the line. You can yell at me, you can feel betrayed, you can call me whatever fucking name you want, but the truth is, I am better off with the horseman inside me. And you’re better off too.”

“Brom,” Crane says, trying to grab him, but Brom shrugs him off.

“Leave me alone,” he growls, storming toward the buildings.

Crane makes a move to go after him but I run over and grab his arm, pulling him back.

“Let him go,” I tell him.

Crane gives me an incredulous look, his mouth parted in disbelief. “I can’t let him go.”

“I know you can’t,” I tell him, holding him harder. “And I’m not letting go of him either. But for tonight, I think we must. We have to let him have time to think.”

“We can’t afford to give him time to think,” he says, brow crinkled. “Kat, we need to do the ritual again. You heard what Sister Sophie said.”

“I did. And you know you can’t force him. You can tie him up, gagged and bound in chains, but you can’t force Brom to do anything he doesn’t want to do. That’s how you approach things, Crane. With force and control, but not everything works like that. Brom has to be allowed to come to this decision on his own.”

He stares at me, blinking. “You’re taking his side.”

“I’m not taking his side. There are no sides here. I just know Brom better than you do, sorry to say, but it’s true. And the more you corner him, the more you push him, the further he will run. Running away is his default, don’t you see that now? And, right now, he’s trying to do his best by us and for us, even though it doesn’t seem like it. He wants to protect us because he loves us and thinks the horseman gives him the best shot.”

“But he’s wrong,” Crane says despondently, looking out at the darkness where Brom disappeared.

“And maybe he is wrong,” I say. “But, as much as we both hate it, he has to find that out for himself.” I pause. “There’s also a slight possibility that you’re wrong.”

Crane looks at me as if I slapped him.

I shrug and let go of his arm, gathering up my robe as the cold starts to creep in. “I’m sure it happens to you from time to time.”

He presses his lips together, the wheels turning in his head, and then he looks back out over the lake. “Well, it feels a little embarrassing to have had this failed ritual and lover’s spat in front of all these dead people.”

I follow his gaze. The shadowy figures are only a few feet away, staring at us with ravenous eyes and gaping mouths, and I have to immediately look back at Crane. “How long until the elixir wears off?”

He reaches down and grabs my hand. “Not soon enough.”

Chapter 31

Crane

I quickly gather up all the items I brought out for the ritual, stuff them back inside my satchel, and then pull Kat up toward the faculty dorms. The elixir will take time to wear off but I can put a circle of salt inside my room ensuring it’s a dead person free zone. It will at least prevent us from seeing the shapes beyond the veil until the drug fades.

As we walk into the building, I’m so angry I’m beside myself with it. But it’s not the usual anger that leads to rage and unwanted consequences. It’s a different kind of anger. It’s not directed just at Brom, it’s also directed at myself, as well as the coven. It’s a helpless anger, the kind where you know that letting it out won’t make a lick of difference, and that there’s nothing you can do to prevent it. It just exists, it just is what it is.

I just feel like such a bloody fool. I should have seen this coming, should have picked up on the many, many times that Brom hinted that he liked the horseman, that he thought he had a special bond with him, that he thought he could control him. I never actually thought he would find himself so attached that he wouldn’t want to expel him at all, especially when he knew, he knew, exactly what was at stake.

His own life and Kat’s.

“He’s playing with fire,” I mutter as I unlock the door to my room and usher Kat inside. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

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