Despite everything, Lucie felt a twinge of guilt. In Grace’s disbelief and horror, she felt her own horror: she had never wanted to be in that position, never wanted to be a danger to Jesse.

She scrubbed her dusty hands across her face. “You don’t know the whole situation,” she said. “There’s more to it, Grace.”

Grace looked skeptical. “More to what? Or do you stand over all your friends brandishing swords while they sleep?”

“Jesse isn’t asleep,” Lucie said in a low voice. “Grace, I need you to listen to me.”

“No!” Grace’s eyes flashed. “I shan’t.” Her hands tightened on the poker. “You’ve been reluctant for ages now—you haven’t wanted to do everything we can to help Jesse. But I’ve kept trying things, even without you—”

“You mean that horrid incense you were burning out there?” Lucie demanded.

Grace glared. “Burning activated moth powder as a means of catching a wandering spirit is very well attested to by Valdreth the Unliving.”

“Well, if Valdreth the Unliving says it’ll work, I’m sure it will; necromancers are notoriously trustworthy.” Lucie’s voice dripped sarcasm. “You’re right—I haven’t wanted to have anything to do with this nonsense, because it can’t work. There’s no little, harmless way to raise the dead—”

“But it is working,” said Grace.

Lucie stared at her.

“Jesse has runes now,” said Grace, in a small voice. “They’ve begun to appear on his skin. Sometimes I can see his coffin’s been disturbed. Like he’s moving inside it. Jesse is getting better, Lucie. Ready to come back.”

“No,” Lucie said, shaking her head. “Oh, no, no. I’m sorry, Grace. But it’s not your incense or spells or anything else like it that’s making runes appear on Jesse.” She took a gamble. “You said you’d sacrificed a rabbit out here,” she said. “But that didn’t happen, did it? You actually quite like animals. There was blood in the shed, but you didn’t know where it came from, did you?”

“What are you suggesting?” Grace’s voice rose, and Lucie knew she’d been right. “I—yes, I came one morning, and I saw him in the coffin, and there was blood on his clothes. I thought he must have risen and injured himself somehow; I thought—that’s good, isn’t it? Only living things bleed.”

“Oh, Grace.” Lucie felt immensely sad. “You thought he was coming back to life? I wish it was that. He isn’t better. He’s possessed.”

Grace only stared at her. “What?”