“Eleanor!” a voice bellowed. Oliver. “Command me! Say the words!”
But I couldn’t speak—I could not even breathe. All I could do was think, Sum veritas.
It was enough. The magic oozed from me, and a breath later, Oliver roared, “Dormi!”
But only some of the animals stopped their attacks. So I kept fighting.
“Dormi!” he shouted again. Though I felt the attack lessen, it was not the end. I pumped even more energy into clawing my way free.
“Dormi! Dormi! Sleep, dammit! Dormi!”
The final rat stopped. It tumbled over, stiff and dead once more.
And the hall was silent. Too silent.
“Laure!” I hurled bloated corpses off me. “Laure!” Then Oliver was there, trying to help me rise.
“The butler’s victim,” I shrieked. “It’s Laure!”
Oliver’s eyes bulged. He spun around and darted to the collapsed butler. I crawled over, and we shoved the rotten body aside to show an unmoving woman beneath.
Her neck was destroyed—half of it torn out and still in the butler’s teeth. Tattered flesh clung to the edges of a gaping hole.
“Laure!” I wrenched her to me. Blood spurted onto her dress, onto my hands, warm and sticky and red. She was dying.
My eyes flew to Oliver’s. “Help her!”
“How?” His voice was frantic.
“Heal her!” A river of blood slid down the side of her neck, blossoming onto her violet gown. Her eyelids fluttered slightly, but her chest barely moved.
“It’s a death wound,” Oliver said, his voice shaky. “It will take all my magic and yours to heal—”
“Do it!”
“Then lay her down.”
I placed her gently back on the carpet. Her head lolled to one side, stretching the hole and oozing more fresh blood. Oliver gripped my hand in his and laid his other over Laure’s heart. His yellow eyes held mine. “Command me, El.”
“Heal Laure. Sum veritas. ”
His eyes lit up. First a flash of blue—pulsing, pulsing—and then an azure flame. So bright, so blinding, I had to squint.
My heartbeat synchronized with the pulsing flames, and time seemed to hold its breath. I was aware of everything around me. Of how Oliver’s eyes shone brighter. Of the fetid stench of the corpses, heavy and gagging. Of the smell of blood, higher-pitched and piercing. Of the animals—rat after rat, sparrow after pigeon. Of how congealed blood and writhing maggots were ground into the teal carpet.
Oliver latched onto my soul and he pulled. Each drop of magic slid from me, draining and draining, shriveling my insides.
I wanted to scream at him, “There is nothing left! Stop, stop!” But no words would form.
And still Oliver shone brighter. Blue light pulsed in his skull like a jack-o’-lantern, beautiful and terrifying.
Then his whole body tensed up. His hand crushed mine, and suddenly the light burst into his chest.
A well of power, glowing through his ribs.
He cried out, and a spark cracked from his outstretched hand. A beam of power shot into Laure’s chest, spreading out like a spiderweb over her body.
Oliver’s voice ripped out again, an agonized sound. His head rolled back. His chest burned brighter and seared my eyes.
All at once, Laure’s body stiffened like a board. Oliver screamed, and Laure screamed too. Then liquid heat rolled over me, bathing us in a perfect warmth.
The light shrank in on itself, smaller and smaller, until it finally winked out completely.
For a moment all was still. My eyes were too blinded to see, my body too stupefied to move. But I saw a shadowy form teetering back. Oliver. I lunged over and caught him. He sank into my arms, a tiny smile on his face.
I looked at Laure. Her neck was as smooth and unblemished as a baby’s, and her chest moved at a normal, steady pace. Her eyes were still closed, but she was alive, and she would be fine.
The moment was so strange and calm. The awful smells and blood everywhere seemed separate, as if I were viewing it all from afar. My heartbeat in my ears was nothing more than a distant drum, my ragged breaths a far-off breeze.
But the fragile calm was soon shattered. Footsteps hammered up the stairs and into the corpse-
laden hall.
“Demon!” Joseph shouted. “Demon!”
Chapter Seventeen
“Demon!” Joseph hissed. He stood over Oliver and me, a crystal clamp in his hand. Behind him stood Daniel, with a pistol—a real pistol—aimed at Oliver’s head.
“Eleanor,” Joseph said, “get away from that creature.”
“It’s fine,” I said tiredly.
“Non. He may look like a man, but he is not. He is a demon.”
Oliver wound his fingers around my arm. “She knows what I am.”
“Let her go!” Daniel barked.
When Oliver did not budge, Joseph lifted both hands. “I will blast you to the spirit realm.”
“No, you won’t.” Oliver’s fingers tightened. “I’m bound to Eleanor. Use that gadget, and you kill her too.”
“Silence!” Joseph roared. “I will not hear your lies.” He squeezed the clamp.