Chest heaving, Reid stared resolutely at the floor as I approached. He didn’t flee when the witch released him, didn’t move to stop her when she stabbed the quill into my throat.

I felt it pierce my skin as if I were in another’s body—the pain disconnected, somehow, as the thick liquid congealed in my veins. It was cold. The icy fingers crept steadily down my spine—paralyzing my body—but it was nothing compared to the ice in Reid’s gaze as he finally looked at me.

That was the ice that pierced my heart.

I slumped forward, eyes never leaving his face. Please, I silently begged. Understand.

But there was no understanding in his eyes as he watched my body fall to the floor, as my limbs began to spasm and twitch. There was only shock, anger, and . . . disgust. Gone was the man who had knelt before me and gently wiped my tears away. Gone was the man who had held me on the rooftop, who had laughed at my jokes and defended my honor and kissed me under the stars.

Gone was the man who had claimed to love me.

Now, there was only the Chasseur.

And he hated me.

Tears tracked through the blood on my face to the floor. It was the only outward sign that my heart had cleaved in two. Still Reid did not move.

The witch lifted my chin, piercing my skin with her fingernails. Black hovered at the edges of my vision, and I struggled to remain conscious. The drug swirled in my mind, tempting me with oblivion. She bent down to my ear. “You thought he would protect you, but he’d tie you to the stake himself. Look at him, Louise. Look at his hatred.”

With enormous effort, I raised my head. Her fingers loosened in surprise.

I looked directly into Reid’s eyes. “I love you.”

Then I blacked out.

Oblivion

Lou

When I woke, I was vaguely aware of the floor moving beneath me—and a long, lean pair of arms. They wrapped around my waist, holding me close. Then came the throbbing pain of my throat. I clasped a hand to it, feeling fresh blood.

“Lou,” a familiar voice said anxiously. “Can you hear me?”

Ansel.

“Wake up, Lou.” The floor still shifted. Something crashed nearby, followed by a thunderous boom. A woman cackled. “Please wake up!”

My eyes fluttered open.

I was sprawled on the floor behind the bed with my head in Ansel’s lap, a syringe discarded beside us.

“It’s the antidote,” he whispered frantically. “There wasn’t enough for a full dose. He’s losing, Lou. The witch—she blasted the door. His Balisarda flew into the corridor. You have to help him. Please!”

He’s losing.

Reid.

Adrenaline spiked through me, and I sat up quickly, coughing on the dust pervading the air. The world spun around me. Reid and the witch had decimated the room; holes had been blasted through the floor and walls, and the desk and headboard lay in splinters. Ansel dragged me out of the way as a chunk of mortar crashed to the floor where my legs had been.

Reid and the witch circled one another in the center of the room, but Reid appeared to be having difficulty moving. He gritted his teeth, forcing his muscles to obey as he swung my knife at the witch. She darted easily out of reach before flicking her fingers once more. Reid inhaled sharply as if she’d struck him.

I struggled to my feet. Darkness still swirled in my vision, and my limbs were as clumsy and heavy as Reid’s. But it didn’t matter. I had to stop this.

Neither acknowledged me. The witch thrust her hand forward, and Reid dove out of the way. The blast leveled the wall instead. A sadistic smile played on her lips. She was toying with him. Toying with the man who’d burned her sister.

Ansel tracked the witch’s every movement. “Everyone is still outside.”

I swayed, vision blurring as I raised my hands. But there was nothing. I couldn’t concentrate. The room tilted and spun.

The witch’s gaze snapped toward us. Reid moved to strike, but she flicked her wrist, throwing him against the wall once more. I started forward as he crumpled.

“You are a fool,” the witch said. “You’ve seen his hatred, yet still you rush to his aid—”

A cord sprang into existence, plunging to her voice box. I clenched my fist, and the words died in her throat. My blood flowed thicker from the syringe punctures while she struggled to breathe. I swayed again, breaking concentration, but Ansel caught me before I could fall. The witch gasped and clutched her throat as her breath returned.

I was too weak to continue fighting. I could barely stand, let alone fight a witch and hope to win. I had no physical strength left to give, and my mind was too drug-saturated to distinguish patterns.

“You two deserve each other.” The witch blasted me from Ansel’s arms, and I flew through the air and collided with Reid’s chest. He staggered back at the impact, but his arms wrapped around me, softening the blow. Stars danced in my vision.

Ansel’s battle cry revived me, but it too was cut short. Another thud sounded behind us, and he skidded into our knees.

“I can’t . . . beat her.” Though my bleeding had stopped, I still felt faint. Light-headed. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. “Too . . . weak . . .”

Darkness beckoned, and my head lolled.

But Reid’s grip on me turned almost painful. My eyes snapped open to see him staring down at me determinedly.

“Use me.”

I shook my head with as much force as I could muster. Stars dotted my vision.

“It could work.” Ansel nodded frantically, and Reid released me. I swayed on my feet. “The witches use other people all the time!”

I opened my mouth to tell them no—that I wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t wield his body like other witches did—but a hand tore me backward by my hair. I landed in the dun-haired witch’s embrace, back pressed against her chest.

“I grow weary of this, and your mother is waiting. Will you kill them, or will I?”

I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Every last bit of my focus centered on the thin, deadly rope that had emerged in the air between the witch and Reid.

A pattern.

I was weak, but Reid . . . he was still strong. And, despite everything, I loved him. Loved him enough that nature had acknowledged him a worthy trade. He wasn’t just another body. Another shield of flesh. He was . . . me.

This could work.

With a ragged breath, I clenched my fist. The pattern vanished in a burst of gold.