The Mandikhor hissed. “So ungrateful,” it said. “You alone can walk between the world of Earth and the dark kingdom.”

James stared into the demon’s blood-red eyes. “Do you mean the kingdom of Belphegor?”

The Mandikhor made an awful noise; after a moment, James realized it was chuckling. “So like a human,” it said, “to know so much, and yet know so little.”

James opened his mouth to speak, just as an arcing golden light seared the air. “Leave him alone!” Cordelia shouted, as Cortana divided the darkness.

James jerked free, rolling away from the demon and up onto his feet as Cordelia threw herself at the Mandikhor. The gold of the sword was the only color in the black-and-white world—the gold and the flame-red of her hair. Cortana whipped back and forth—its blade slashed across the demon’s chest, opening a long black wound—the demon howled and struck out, its massive paw slamming into Cordelia and sending her flying. Cortana tumbled from her hand, skidding across the bridge as she hurtled over the railing with a scream.

James heard Lucie scream, “Daisy!” and the sound of a distant splash. The world seemed to go silent as he bent to seize up Cortana. He strode toward the Mandikhor, his blood burning.

The demon had sunk to its forelegs. It was bleeding from the wound Cordelia had dealt it, ichor spreading around it like a shadow. “You cannot slay me here,” it snarled as James came near. “My roots are deep within another realm. As I feed there, I grow stronger. I am a legion who cannot be touched.” With a final hiss, it vanished.

Color sprang back into the world. James spun, Cortana in hand: he could see the bridge as it had always been, dull gold and white in the moonlight, and his friends running toward him. He did not see Lucie. He remembered her calling out Cordelia’s name. He remembered the sound of the water. Cordelia. Cordelia.

“Where is she?” Matthew gasped as he neared James. “Where’s Cordelia?”

“She’s in the river,” James said, and began to run.

Lucie stared frantically at the river. She could see steps leading down to it from what looked like a passage through a building beside the bridge. She hurtled down the stairs to ground level and found herself in a dimly lit, narrow street lined with tall warehouses, blackened with soot and grime. There was the passage, a dark hole in the nearest building. She ran to it and saw stone stairs descending to a faint gleam at the bottom: the river. She raced to where an old cobbled ramp led into the water, an empty barge moored beside it. The river flowed by, black and silent, under the clouded sky; mist rose from the water.