Nine. A total of only nine hits. People in town had to be panicking. Medical vans were parked all over the place, everyone had a relative in the hospital, and nobody much could know what was going on. Didn’t they have to be online, looking for information? Didn’t they care what was happening to this town?

She tried to think of something constructive to do. The only thing that came to mind was the one comment she had to moderate, so she opened it up. It read:

Awful, how only the most beloved members of the community have been struck down. Mavis Purdhy with her twins at home who need her—Riley Bender, the homecoming queen—Gary Turner, a caring father—and now so many more, but all of them so dearly missed. It’s as if someone wanted to cause as much pain as humanly possible.

Then again, this amount of pain isn’t entirely human, is it?—Asa

Great. Her only page views were coming from demons who wanted to taunt her.

Verlaine hit Discard as Spam, then flopped down on her bed, pulled a pillow over her face, and wished the entire world would just go away.

The last time Nadia had staked out Elizabeth’s house, Verlaine had suggested that she was maybe pushing things too far.

So this time, Nadia hadn’t told Verlaine about it.

She had ducked behind a neighbor’s hedge, partly shrouded by a spell of shadow; this wouldn’t make her totally invisible, but it would make people less likely to turn her way. Nadia wasn’t sure how long she’d have to wait. She was pretty sure Elizabeth didn’t get out much. Not likely to run to Costco, or join a book club. Still, obviously Elizabeth left her house sometimes, and the next time she did, Nadia intended to seize the chance.

Nadia had brought her phone and earbuds, a thick coat, and even a folding seat her dad used when he went camping; she was prepared for the long haul.

Which was why it surprised her so much when, not ten minutes later, Elizabeth’s door opened.

Elizabeth had forgotten what it was like to feel weak.

The muscles in her body obeyed her only sluggishly; her skin burned with what she dimly remembered as fever. She wanted water to drink, so much that at first she thought her old thirst had returned—but it was just this sickness having its way with her.

“We call it infection,” said the demon as he led her along the street. “Are you conversant enough with the twenty-first century to understand infection?”

It was what modern people believed in, instead of evil spirits. Fools. “I want it done with.”

“Then come with me,” he said. He spoke slowly now, as though to a child; Elizabeth wished to scold him for it, but in truth the fever made it harder for her to understand. “The only drugstore in town has been sold out of every useful item since yesterday. But my parents have supplies at my house.”

“They are not your parents. It is not your house.”

Asa’s expression darkened, but he only said, “You’d better hope it’s my Neosporin, hadn’t you?”

They went to the Prasad home, where his parents greeted her with the same glazed delight all humans gave to Elizabeth. For some reason Asa didn’t seem to like watching her charm them into adoring her. Was his humanity getting the better of him already? Had he learned to like these hapless people who were sheltering a demon’s soul in their dead son’s flesh?

When the human world fell, and Elizabeth stood beside the throne of the One Beneath, she would slaughter them before Asa’s eyes. It would be a test for him, a test of his worthiness, a test he would certainly fail.

In the family bathroom, Elizabeth stared dully at a dish filled with shell-shaped soaps—what an odd thing to possess—while Asa worked on her burns. He muttered, “If you’re going to burn gashes in your flesh that will never heal, you might consider keeping your own medical supplies at hand.”

Elizabeth hadn’t entered an apothecary’s shop in nearly one hundred and fifty years, so she didn’t recognize any of the items he’d taken from the medicine chest. No matter. He would fix this, and she could go on.

It was true that the seal had seared her arm terribly. His pathway had been burned into this world; all that remained was for the bridge to be built.

That bridge was weaving itself longer, stronger, and broader every single moment—

She first felt the warning—a shiver in the air that made her hair stand on end. Was it her Book of Shadows? Her sense of magic? As Elizabeth jerked to her feet, Asa sensed it, too. He began backing away as she said, “Stop time.”

He hesitated. The insolent beast hesitated. His hatred of her was as obvious as his pride, and he would pay for both.

Elizabeth shouted, “Do it!”

Asa brought his hands together again. For a moment they glared at each other, before she turned and stalked out of the bathroom. His nursing appeared to be at an end, and she intended to deal with this latest interruption immediately.

They went past the Prasads, who were frozen in place in front of their television set. Wordlessly they walked side by side down the few blocks that led to her house . . .

. . . which was on fire.

The fire was frozen, of course. Each orange flame glowed still and slow, like electric lights rather than any natural burning. To judge from the fact that her house still stood and looked relatively undamaged, the fire could only have just started. And yet it had already spread throughout her house. Only magical flame did this.

“Where is she?” Elizabeth had to look over the area two or three times before she saw Nadia Caldani standing there. That spell of shadow had been well cast; even knowing of her presence, it was hard for Elizabeth to focus on her. But perhaps that was only the “infection” of which Asa spoke, muddying her mind.