“It would be a record-breaking prank,” Lucas lied.

“The Patrol doesn’t hold records for pranks. Nor do they condone stealing,” Eliot said.

“Ah. Well. You got me.” Lucas grinned.

Eliot slumped into Kaley’s empty chair. “Tell me why you want it, and I’ll get it for you. Tonight.” He was looking at Zane. “You need me to. Admit it.”

“Gray,” Zane sighed. “I don’t want to dislike you, you know. You just make it so bloody easy.”

“Likewise. But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re both dedicated to the same person. We’re both her Patrolmen, whether you like it or not.” He nodded toward me.

“This rubbish again.” Zane shook his head.

Eliot’s jaw tightened. “I’m not going anywhere, Cohen. I might not be fighting for you, but I am fighting for her.”

“Good grief,” I muttered.

“Are you boys done your hissy fit?” Kaley folded her arms, the wood armour at her shoulders knocking together.

Zane and Eliot exchanged a look, and it was clear neither of them knew what a hissy fit was.

The room darkened, and a cold wind lifted through the space, brushing against the windows. I raised my hands to find frost on my fingertips, spreading in patterns down my fingers and over my knuckles.

My hands trembled. “He’s back!”

I ripped the sheets from my bed and snatched the pillow to use as a shield as darkness sucked every trace of sunlight from the room. I could no longer see the others—hollow holes appeared where they’d been.

“Don’t you see, Carrier?” His deep, bone-shuddering voice echoed, and the smell of iron and blood filled my nostrils. “All of this is about my duel with you…” The last words rang in tune with Mara Rouge’s voice as though she stood before me. Screams pierced the air: high, deep, hollow, sharp. My pillow fell to the floor and my palms slammed against my ears.

“Stop!” I begged. “Please, let them go!”

“Helen!” Zane’s voice spiralled through the darkness, and like a light flicking back on, all the shadow and wind vanished.

I blinked, lowering my trembling hands, holding back the tears burning in my eyes.

The room was bright, and the trickle of chatter from the hallway breezed through the space along with the smell of mint pies once again.

Zane pulled me against him, surrounding me with his arms before I could register anything else. His heart pounded against me, his tune slipping from his chest.

“Don’t let him in,” he begged.

My own voice was raw. “I’m so tired, Zane.”

Zane was shaking. “Helen, your sister is right. You can’t go on like this. I don’t know how Nightflesh caught your ear and eye without you letting him in, but this needs to stop.”