But my legs are locking up again. It’s the skull mask, or rather, the thing behind it. That darkness that reaches out and pins me still.

The Emissary holds out its hand, as if I’d simply take it. As if, after fighting so hard to stay alive, I’d give up that easily.

And yet, I feel my fingers twitch.

My hand drifting up.

I can’t get away. I can’t look away.

“Cassidy!”

Jacob’s voice cuts through like a flash.

A flash. My camera.

I force the camera up and look through the viewfinder, use the lens instead of my own eyes, and instantly my head clears. My legs come unstuck from the floor.

“Come and get me,” I snap, trying to keep my voice from shaking as I step back out of reach. And the Emissary steps forward, over the line of the circle.

“Lara! Now!”

She strikes a match. It doesn’t light.

She strikes a second. It flares, and then goes out.

“Lara!” I say, panic winding through my voice as the Emissary takes another step forward. It’s standing in the middle of the circle now, but soon, it will be at the front, and then it will be out, and—

The third match strikes. And lights.

Lara brings it to the oil, and the circle begins to burn.

The Emissary stops.

Looks down, its mask tilting to one side, clearly confused.

I thought it would go up fast, a struck match, a sudden burst of flame. The circle lit, and closed, in an instant. Instead, the fire moves slowly. It pours itself in a narrow band around the Emissary’s feet.

But it’s working. The Emissary twitches, caught in the trap, and the flame slides around the circle, closing the loop and—

“Cassidy,” says Jacob, his voice unsteady. I turn toward him. I know Jacob—from his blond curls to his superhero shirt, his bright eyes and his playful grin. But right now, he looks wrong. He’s soaking wet, his clothes clinging to his narrow frame. He looks thin and gray, his hair floating around his face, as if he’s underwater.

He says my name again, the word threaded with sadness and fear. “Cass?”

And I don’t understand, until I do.

The circle.

The circle is designed to sever the line, to break the connection between the Emissary and me. But we’re not the only ones tied together.

It’s cutting away Jacob, too.

I’m the only thing holding him here.

And the line is breaking.

The oil continues to burn. The fire carves its thin bright way around the circle, and Jacob collapses to his hands and knees, the life going out of him.

“No!” I shout, moving toward him.