Damien gestures toward the tree cover. “I’m looking forward to burning a witch today, so make sure she doesn’t get away.”
Jezabel turns to Bishop. Her eyes are pained, and for a moment, I think she’s going to say something. Apologize, or profess her undying love for him. But then Aunt Penny is carried toward the trees, and Jezebel turns to follow. The man who’d been carrying her emerges a second later, alone.
I watch the woods, my stomach clenched in a tight knot. Every second that passes seems like an eternity. My heart feels like it will give out at any minute, but still I keep watching the trees, waiting for Aunt Penny and Jezebel to emerge again. But minutes pass, and no one does. I look desperately to Damien, but his face is impassive.
Finally, I burst into flight toward the trees. Others follow me, but I touch down first and let out a primal wail when I discover them.
Aunt Penny and Jezebel are lying a few feet from each other, and neither of them is moving. Behind the dense tree cover, it’s too dark to know for sure what the black pools are all over the forest floor, but the metallic smell gives it away as blood. I take a feeble step forward, and my boots make a sickening slurping sound as I step in some. Vomit rises up my throat.
Jezebel lies facedown in a puddle of blackened leaves, a wet knife held loosely in her hands. Aunt Penny is on her back, staring unblinkingly at the tree canopy above her.
Oh God. I fall to my knees at Aunt Penny’s side and pull her to my chest. Her body is heavy and slack in my arms.
“No, no, I can’t lose you,” I cry into her hair. Tears blur my vision. I can feel the eyes of dozens of people on me as I cry. “Come back, please, come back. You can’t die. You’re all I have.”
I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. The thought makes me cry harder.
I feel a tiny flutter of movement against my chest. I gasp, then hesitantly lay Aunt Penny down on the leaves again. My eyes rove over her body. Her chest moves up and down, and it almost looks as though her arms are no longer ravaged with burns.
It’s impossible.
That’s when I notice the glint of metal on Aunt Penny’s hand. I lift her palm up and find a heavy metal ring on her index finger. Etched into the ring is the Roman numeral one.
It’s just like Bishop’s ring.
I look over at Jezebel’s prone body just as someone flips her over. There’s a stab wound in her gut; blood has seeped through layers of thick robes.
I suck in a breath, realization slamming into me so hard it takes my breath away. Jezebel used the same spell that Bishop’s mom used on her deathbed—the spell that gave him extra lives. Jezebel transferred her magic to Aunt Penny, sacrificed herself to give my aunt another chance.
“She saved her,” I whisper.
Aunt Penny’s eyes flutter open.
“Well, it looks like your luck has improved.” Damien stands over us, considering my aunt. “How brave of the traitor to give her life only after it became clear she was going to be killed.”
“Aunt Penny, are you okay?” I run my hands along her body, checking for injuries.
“Well, as nice as this has been,” Damien says, “I think we’ll be heading back now.”
“Wait!” I say, turning on him. “What about the humans?”
“What about the humans?” he repeats.
“We can’t just leave them here,” I say.
“And why not? Like you said, they’ve been mind-wiped. Taking back a couple dozen teens with memory loss would only raise questions that we can’t answer. I’m afraid this is a sacrifice we’ll have to make, my dear.”
My heart beats hard.
“But what about the witches back home?” I ask.
He raises his eyebrows.
“You think everyone doesn’t know about what you did to us on prom night? How you used your own people as bait and threw us to our enemies to get slaughtered? You can say it was for the greater good, but no one trusts you anymore. But if you returned all these teens, if you did something good, imagine what that could do for your image. I know you have a door into this place—let us take them out.”
“I’m a smart man,” he says. “I can tell when I’m being manipulated.”
“They’re going to hate you,” I say. “When they find out you let all these kids get dumped into Los Demonios, there will be a revolt. Mark my words.”
His jaw twitches. I leap on his moment of hesitation.
“Take them back. Wipe them again if you have to, feed them some bullshit story. It’ll all blow over soon enough and people will trust you all the more for doing something kind and good.”
“She’s pulling one over on you,” someone says.
“Please,” Aunt Penny pleads, speaking for the first time. “Do the right thing, Damien.”
He clenches his jaw.
“Fine,” he says finally. He turns and walks away.
Relief floods through me. But it’s not over yet.
I haul myself up and run down to Bishop, who remained to guard Paige and the rest of the humans in the stone formation. I’m scared that if given a moment to think, Damien will change his mind.
“What happened?” Bishop asks, his tense eyes searching my face.
“Aunt Penny’s okay,” I say. His jaw relaxes. I hesitate before adding, “But Jezebel’s not.” I drop my gaze before I say my next words. “She…she’s dead.”
He doesn’t speak in the wake of my news. I work up the nerve to look into his eyes. His throat works, but he nods at me. Maybe sometime later he’ll break down, but not right now.
My eyes drift behind Bishop. The aftermath of the war makes bile burn up my throat. Bodies lie in heaps all over the crumbled remains of the Hollywood Bowl, blood everywhere. Smoke curls into the sky from small fires littered across the mountaintop.
Paige stands away from the others, her arms hugged around her trembling body. Her eyes are red and puffy behind her glasses, and even though she’s not crying anymore, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her more upset in my life. It rips my heart open.