“HARDY AND I USED TO PLAY HERE ALL THE TIME WHEN we were kids,” Crowe said as he led me around the junkyard, headed for the riverbank. “There are a few ways to get to that second floor.”

We reached the bottom of a conveyor-belt ramp along the side of the building that must have been used to move logs up from the river to the processing facility inside. The ramp connected to a section of the second floor that jutted out over the Sable and was held up by a few rickety-looking wooden posts. Even from here, I could see that part of that floor had rotted away, revealing the lighted space inside the building. “This is my entrance,” said Crowe, leaning close, his voice just a whisper. “He probably won’t expect anyone to go in this way.”

“Probably because it’s crazy—be careful you don’t end up in the river.”

He grinned, hard and dangerous. “You can go in through the building and get up the stairs. How’s your magic?”

I looked down at my hands, at the wisps of locant trailing from my fingertips. The blood spell had amplified my magic temporarily, but it was already wearing off, as was the feeling of euphoria, leaving me with only dread—even if we saved everybody, I wasn’t going to make it out. “Not a hundred percent yet, but better.”

If I told him it wasn’t, he would feel the need to protect me, and I needed him to protect Alex and my parents and everyone else.

“That barrier around him is going to be wearing off really soon,” I said. “Unless he uses my dad to recharge, that is.”

“We’ll have to take our chances. I’m going to get Darek as soon as I find a way in. At the very least, I can keep him busy. You focus on getting people out and protecting them from Killian’s magic, since he’s under Darek’s control. Start with your dad, because he’ll be able to help you shield the others from any animus magic. Then free Alex and Hardy. Can you unbind magic yet?”

I offered him a brave smile. “I’ll give it everything I have.” All I really had to do was get to my dad—if I failed or went down, he could do the rest.

“There are two staircases inside,” Crowe continued, his lips brushing against my hair. “He’s probably been using the one nearest the front entrance, but there’s a narrow set of steps through there.” He pointed to an old door, just crooked planks barely holding together, that was situated beneath a sagging overhang. “If he’s got a barrier up to wall that entrance off, you’ll be able to take it down.”

“Be careful,” I whispered as he tested his weight on the ramp. “Remember how many people need you. My mom—” My throat constricted over my last request. Take care of her after I’m gone.

He raised his head as if he’d heard it anyway. “This isn’t the end, Jemmie. I won’t let it be.”

We stared at each other, and I drank in the sight of his moonlit face. “Okay. Go,” I whispered, knowing that if I lingered a moment longer, I might lose my courage altogether. Now I fully understood what Crowe had meant when he said he didn’t want to know when he would die for fear it would make him hesitate.

Crowe’s long fingers tightened on either side of the conveyor belt, and he began to climb, ascending like a big jungle cat, silent and dangerous. I tore my gaze from his body and crept over to the rotting wooden door. It hung open slightly, leaving just enough space for me to slide through without having to pull it wide.

Guided only by the dim silver glow of the moon through filthy panes of glass, I began to make my way to a set of stairs that led up to the second floor. My parents and Alex and the others were directly above me—I could smell the faint waft of their magic now, all mixed together. I flexed my fingers and smelled the stinging mint of my own power, and I couldn’t help but think that Alex would be so proud of me; I’d dug my power out from under all those layers of denial, as she had said I could, and now I was going to use it.

The darkness at the bottom of the staircase was nearly complete, but I could see where the steps ended near the ceiling in a trapdoor. There was no locant barrier there. Maybe Darek had been arrogant enough to leave it unprotected.

“Sorry, Jemmie,” came Killian’s voice from behind me—a moment before his arms slid around me—and his fearsome animus magic did the same, winding around my head and body like ropes before I could conjure any type of shield. A sense of numbness came over me, and I sighed. If Killian was here, it meant Crowe might have a chance. There was no point in fighting.

“Come on,” Killian said as he tugged me up the sagging stairs. His muscles were trembling. I swear he didn’t want to be doing this. But I understood his magic well enough to know that talking wasn’t going to change things.

We reached the trapdoor, and Killian swung it up and helped me through into a cavernous space. The ceiling had rotted away in some places, revealing the starry sky above as well as the huge missing section of the floor that we’d seen from outside—from here, it was just a black pit. Even though we were a few dozen yards away, on the other side of the space, I could hear the rush of the river below. Next to the giant hole in the floor was a stack of massive logs, which probably concealed the ramp Crowe was using. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet as Killian guided me out of the shadows with his mind, his hand resting lightly on the back of my neck.

Darek had lit lanterns he’d clearly stolen from the festival. They were placed against the walls. A big wooden trough sat in the center of the floor, maybe eight feet long and a few feet wide. Around it stood all the people we were missing. My parents, Alex, Flynn, Hardy, Boone, and Gunnar. Katrina and Jane were there as well. They stood on either side of the trough, their bare arms stretched out over it, palms down. Their eyes were unfocused.

“Mom!” I yelled. “Dad!” I wanted to run to them but couldn’t get my feet to move.

“They can’t hear you,” said Darek. He was standing on the far side of the trough, looking triumphant. “I’ve put my uncle’s magic to good use. They’re deaf and blind. So are the others.”

There were nine total. Alex and Gunnar stood across from each other, both of their faces stained with dirt, their hair a tangled mess. They’d fought, and they’d lost.

“Let them go,” I said. Where was Crowe? I couldn’t look for him. I couldn’t do anything but stand like a zombie at the opposite end of the trough, completely lost in Killian’s influence.

Darek was watching me intently. “I heard the gunshot and thought he’d killed you,” he said.

“I ducked.” My arms were slack at my sides as Killian’s magic stroked at me, filling my nose with the smell of copper and salt and ash and sweat. Mine and Killian’s.

Darek arched an eyebrow. “Is Crowe dead, then?” Around him, the locant shield glowed weakly, revealing a few spots that had worn away. It was still there, but fading fast. “He’d better be dead.”

“Not as dead as you’re about to be,” came a voice from the darkness behind him.

Darek whirled around as thick whips of venemon magic flew outward from the shadows and slammed into his body, making the locant shield flicker and fade. With a desperate sound, Darek dove for Flynn, who was standing nearest the end of the trough, right next to Old Lady Jane. Darek squatted low as he wrapped his fingers around Flynn’s unyielding forearm while the older man merely stood placidly, as if lost in a dream.

Crowe moved into the lantern light, his power perfectly controlled and absolutely terrifying, like an army of vipers just looking for a place to strike. Each loop of it spiraled in the air, the ends narrowed to sharp, stabbing points. His lip curled when he saw Darek hunkered down behind the trough. “How’s that stolen shield holding up, asshole?”

Darek let out a nervous laugh, still holding tightly to Flynn’s arm. Something about it felt wrong, but I couldn’t quite break through the numbing peace of Killian’s magic to figure out why. “I guess you’re as strong as everyone says, Crowe,” Darek replied. “But you’re not about to stop me.”

“Wanna bet?” Crowe spread his fingers, and one of the golden vipers lashed out, slamming into Darek’s shoulder. He fell backward with a scream, blood welling from what looked like a stab wound. He rolled over quickly, though, green inlusio magic slithering from his fingertips.

He’d just siphoned a hefty amount of Flynn’s magic, and Crowe couldn’t see it. He had no idea. The sight of Crowe stalking toward Darek, the urgency and need I felt to save him, tore at the bonds of Killian’s magic inside my mind. But it wasn’t enough. As Crowe raised his arms and his magic reached for Darek one last time, Darek flung his arm out.

The inlusio magic arced through the air and engulfed Crowe. Threads of it slid into his ears and over his eyes. He gasped and froze. “What happened?” he whispered, his voice cracking as he stared blindly at all of us. “Did I just do this?”

With a stifled curse, Darek pressed his hand to his bleeding shoulder and got to his feet. “How’s the view from there, Crowe?” he asked with a pained chuckle. “Did your mighty powers have a few unintended consequences?”

My heart twisted as I witnessed something I never thought I’d see. Tears, streaking down Crowe’s handsome face. “Alex?” he asked in a broken voice. “Flynn!” His arm rose from his side, reaching for them. “This can’t be real,” he screamed. “Jemmie? Answer me! I know this isn’t real!”

But his expression said it all. It felt real. Way, way too real. Real enough to paralyze.

Darek looked over at me. “I’m showing him his worst nightmare,” he said quietly.

Tears stung my eyes as I watched Crowe fall to his knees, just a few feet from the place where the floor gave way to nothingness. He clutched at his head, tearing at his hair. “I didn’t mean to,” he howled. “I would never hurt them!”

“You hurt everybody,” Darek shouted. “Just like your father did.”

It killed me, watching Crowe break like this. And that pain, that love, it was enough to penetrate the fog of animus in my head. As Crowe stared in horror at a scene I was sure involved the sight of everyone he loved dead in front of him, my fingers began to twitch, aching to reach for the crimson threads of Killian’s magic. He stood impassively at my side, sweating and breathing hard, as if he was fighting as well.

“Crowe, I’m a compassionate guy,” said Darek. He walked over to Crowe, who was now on his hands and knees, his head hanging, and grabbed Crowe’s hair, pulling his chin up. As he did, I could see the golden skeins of Crowe’s magic sliding up Darek’s arms, being absorbed by his dark power. “I really want to help you get through this.”

“It’s not real, Crowe,” I whispered, then huffed with frustration. I’d meant to scream it, but Killian still had a hold on me.

“Make it stop,” Crowe sobbed, not resisting as his enemy siphoned away his magic, too caught in the illusion of his own personal hell. “I would never hurt them. I didn’t mean to do it!”

“Make it stop?” Darek asked, turning to me. He pressed his hand to his bleeding shoulder and whispered an incantation, and the wound glowed golden as it healed. “Should I make it stop, Jemmie?”

“Crowe, it’s not real,” I said, louder this time.

Darek’s smile fell away. “Try harder, Killian. Don’t disappoint me.”

Instantly, the ribbons of crimson animus tightened around me, stabbing into my ears, stealing my voice once more.

Darek’s grin returned as he watched my mouth snap shut. “Much better. Now,” he said, turning back to Crowe, “you wanted me to put an end to all your suffering.”

“Please,” Crowe whispered, his eyes locked on the imaginary horror. “I never meant to do this. I don’t ever want to lose control again.”

Darek approached Hardy. Ash and cinders hit my senses as he touched the side of Hardy’s face and siphoned his magic. “Oh, wow.” Darek stumbled back, his aura tinted orange with invictus. “It’s awesome to be you.”

He ambled back over to Crowe as I waged a battle in my own mind. I could see Darek’s strength growing with every step, along with his intent to kill. Crowe knelt, helpless and in the grip of overwhelming grief. How Darek had known to hit him with this—not just the deaths of the people he loved, but by his own hand—I didn’t know. It reeked of an evil and cruelty I hadn’t known existed before that moment.

“I’m going to make this stop for you just like you asked,” Darek said, leaning over Crowe. “You ready to join your old man in hell, big guy?” His fist shot forward and slammed into the side of Crowe’s face. Crowe’s head snapped to the side and he fell hard, blood pouring from his mouth, his body landing right on the edge of the hole in the floor.

Love and determination surged inside me. It was as if I could feel Crowe’s newly shed blood calling out for me. I didn’t know if it was how I felt about him or the blood magic we’d created together, but it was as if his heart beat in my chest. I was not about to watch him die. My hand rose from my side, and my fingers, sparking blue with locant, encircled one of the undulating ribbons of Killian’s magic. It felt silky and loose as I yanked it away from my body.

As Darek stood over Crowe, preparing to kick him into the pit, I whispered protective incantations as I whirled around and let my locant tear Killian’s crimson magic to shreds, ripping it away from Killian himself, who shuddered and staggered.

“Help me,” I said. “Don’t let this happen.” I’d freed the two of us, but it was clear that all of Darek’s intended victims were still held in helpless oblivion.

“Dammit, Jemmie,” yelled Darek. As I spun around to face him, I saw that he’d left Crowe lying right at the edge of the hole and was running back to the trough. He bent over and pulled something from inside the basin—a hunting knife. With a cold glint in his eye, he quickly moved to my mom’s side, and with sharp, brutal slashes, slit her outstretched arms from the crook of her elbow to her wrist. Her blood flowed into the bowl, streaking it red.

“No!” I screamed. Killian and I both ran forward as Darek deftly cut Alex’s wrists, too, and then pivoted around and cut my dad’s.

“I should never have protected you,” Killian roared as he slammed into Darek, his animus magic winding around his nephew. They hit the floor between Dad and Katrina, who stood by, calm as sleepwalkers.

As Darek and Killian wrestled for control of the knife, I sprinted for the only person I knew could save my family—Crowe. I grabbed his shoulders and dragged him away from the edge of the pit, just far enough so he couldn’t accidentally roll in. With clawed fingers and all the love that was in me, I muttered another protective incantation and ripped away the sickly green curse, leaving him groaning and blinking up at the fractured roof. “It wasn’t real,” I said, bending over him as Killian and Darek struggled by the trough.

Crowe’s eyes met mine. “Jemmie?” he asked weakly.

“Yeah. I need your help.”

“I killed you.”

“Nope. Get up. How much magic do you have?” I yanked on his arm, trying to get him on his feet.

Blood dripped from his mouth as he swayed, trying to keep his balance and get his bearings. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “He took a lot.” From the tortured tone of his voice, I knew he wasn’t just talking about his magic.

As we started for the trough where my parents and Alex stood, their blood spilling into the basin below, Darek let out a laugh, and Killian screamed. Before we had a chance to intervene, Darek rose from the floor, the dripping knife in one hand and Killian in the other, bleeding from a terrible wound to his gut. Orange strands of invictus magic wound around Darek’s arm, and he hefted his uncle upward before dropping his entire body, limp and bleeding, into the trough.

“You aren’t worthy to call yourself a Delacroix,” Darek said, then spit on Killian, who shuddered and went quiet, the blood from the others Darek had cut flowing over him.

Darek raised his head and saw me and Crowe standing between the pit and the trough, and then his blue eyes skimmed the people around the bloody basin, as if calculating. A tiny smirk pulled at his lips, and he lunged for Katrina.

He was going to try to complete the curse, and if he did, there would be no stopping him.

Crowe began to move forward, but I grabbed his arm and turned to him. “No,” I said quietly, taking his face in my hands. “You heal anyone who’s been cut, and hurry. You aren’t the monster today.”

Tonight, I was the monster. It had to be me.

Crowe looked down at me, and I watched the same love and determination I had felt spark in his eyes. I wondered if he sensed my heart inside him, too. He crushed his lips against mine, quickly, hungrily. Did he know this was the last time? Did he feel it, too?

“Go,” I said quietly. “Save them.”

Magic surged inside me. It coiled in my bones and in my veins. I charged Darek, calling forth a vault hex. Too late did I sense the glittering blue shield around him, stolen from my father as he bled. My hex bounced off him. Before I could stop my momentum, Darek lunged for me and jammed the blade of his knife into my stomach. Blood poured down the front of me, soaking my shirt and my jeans, squishing in my boots. My insides burned. It wasn’t just a physical pain, but a mental and metaphysical pain, felt to the root of my soul.

“This is what you get for hurting me,” Darek said with a low sob. He grabbed my shoulder, and with his other hand, drove the blade up, hitting bone when he reached my rib cage. A reedy, wet gasp escaped me.

Crowe roared my name from the other side of the trough, but Darek threw up a barrier around him, imprisoning him inside.

I dropped where I stood, my entire body on fire, a strange whispering in my ear, calling to me. Mom had collapsed to her knees, her lips blue and her skin pale, but her arms were still held out. My dad bled out into the trough, too, though he was starting to sink to the floor. With Crowe trapped, beating his fists against Darek’s barrier, Darek quickly sliced the wrists of Boone, Gunnar, and Hardy before going to the other side of the trough to cut Flynn and Jane. They stood helplessly, growing paler by the second, as their blood—and their magic—drained from them.

I closed my eyes. I was so tired, and so cold. “Don’t do this,” I whispered. “Please.”

“I have to,” Darek said, even though he had tears in his eyes. “This is my destiny, Jemmie. I’m going to be a god among men.”

It hit my consciousness hard, awakening a memory from its slumber. Slowly, I raised my head. “No,” I said. “You’re the devil.” I rolled onto my side and glanced at the gaping hole in the floor that stretched all the way down to the river below. It was only feet away.

Up onto all fours, I grabbed the hilt of the knife and pulled it out with one swift motion. Blood hit the floorboards, and my teeth began to chatter. I clutched an arm to my stomach, pressing hard as I leaned against the end of the trough. Avoiding looking at the carnage within, I raised my head.

Darek’s spell had already begun. He threw his left hand over the trough of blood, and with one quick slash opened a gash across his own palm. When the first drops of his blood hit the rest, the crimson liquid vibrated and rippled outward, like a stone had been dropped in the center. Wind kicked up outside and ripped through the cracks of the mill, drowning out the sound of Darek’s voice as he shouted an incantation. He plunged his hand into the trough. The magic immediately took hold and a mushroom cloud of smoke and light burst upward.

Darek rocked on his feet. There was no locant barrier surrounding him now, but his black tollat magic was coiling around him in ribbons, mixing with the other magic to create something new.

Something terrible.

Though I could barely feel my legs, I sensed that they were moving, propelling me to my own end.

Magic glittered like a rainbow of serpents above us, soaring up from the casting trough and arching back down when it hit the ceiling. Darek repeated the incantation over and over again. Bright red lines appeared on his arms, and spread up to his neck, and then up the side of his face.

He looked right at me with black eyes. The blackness seeped out, over the bridge of his nose and back toward his ears. He grinned at me. A devil’s grin.

I took two giant steps and rammed the knife up and beneath his rib cage, straight into his heart.

Darek leaned into me with a groan. I staggered back, caught beneath his weight.

“You really think this will kill me?” he said. “A knife?” He laughed. “It’s too late, Jemmie. I’m already immortal.”

“Not if I take your power from you.”

I gave the knife another shove and he gasped again, then I pressed myself against him, wound to wound, a grisly embrace. I felt the connection between us, our blood mixing, all the different kinds of magic running through our veins. That warm, fuzzy feeling washed over me again, strengthened my own magic in a way I couldn’t describe with words. With my arms around him, I twisted in the ribbons of loosed magic, winding them around us as I staggered toward the open pit. Faintly, I could hear Crowe shouting, but it didn’t stop me.

I was going to throw myself into the sea, and take the devil with me.

The skeins of magic began to weave themselves together around us, closing in. Using my locant power and the connection of our blood, I seized Darek’s siphoning power as my own and bound it, gilding my own bones with it even as I wrenched it from his. Ashy fog billowed around me as I sucked him dry.

“No,” he breathed as the magic abandoned him.

The blackness pulled away from his eyes, just in time for me to see them gloss over. I lost my balance as his body went limp in my arms and his face smoothed. For a brief moment he was just a boy who had once offered me a piggyback ride out of the swamp, a boy with a sweet smile and warm hands.

It was too late, though. For him and for me. My faltering steps had carried us backward, and we were already plunging through that hole in the floor. “Now the sea has us,” I whispered as we fell toward the rushing river below and let the Undercurrent welcome us both.