“I knew it wouldn’t last forever.” I walked to the bed. Adrian hadn’t been lying. Raphael’s skin was gray, and a few patches looked gangrenous. What caught me off guard were his eyes. They were solid black. Not even a speck of white was visible.

But he was still breathing. Which meant I wasn’t too late. I had to hang on to that, because looking at my twin right now made me want to sob.

I reached into my purse, for what felt like the millionth time in the last few hours, and placed everything on the bedside table.

“What do you have?” Beth said, as she came up behind me.

I blew out a breath. “I have the hair and hand of a sainted mage. I also have his ring and an athame. And a small, white-magic infused crystal—but it’s burnt out.” There wasn’t even a tiny glow from it anymore. It looked gray instead of white. “What to do with it all… I don’t have the time—not to mention the supplies—to do any real potions with the hair. But…” I untangled the tiny braids, and pulled one free. “I guess I’m going to wing it.”

I turned to Raphael. His arms and legs were tied down, so he couldn’t do anything to me, but he started hissing and cussing as I came at him with the braid. I wrapped it around his wrist four times before I tied it off. As I wound it, I said the Lord’s prayer. The white aura cut through the muddy color of my brother’s aura, revealing a little sliver of his normal bright blue and purple.

Raphael started screaming. “You stupid fucking bitch. How dare you try to bind me.”

I ignored him. This wasn’t my brother. Not really.

The mage had been wearing the ring, which probably meant that it had some protection abilities. I was glad I was wearing it. I was going to have to touch my brother, and I didn’t want the demon to jump into me.

“What are you going to do now?” Lucas asked.

I stared down at what was left. The hand. The athame. The crystal. “I don’t…” I swallowed down the fear that was choking me. My hands shook as I reached toward the nightstand again.

I grabbed the pinky and broke off the tip of it. The bone was brittle and white. I turned to Beth. “Do you have a mortar and pestle?”

She nodded.

“Sage. Cloves. And cinnamon. And holy oil or water, if you have it.”

“I have everything but the oil or water.”

It would have to work. “Shane, will you—”

“Boil water. On it.”

I turned to Lucas, hands shaking.

“No matter what happens, I’ll be here for you.”

A tear rolled down my cheek, and I brushed it away. I could do this.