A magician’s box stretches the full length of the hallway. Inside it, a blue-haired girl turns her head toward us, grinning so fiercely her red lips are a gash across her pale face. Her feet stick out the other end. Her arms are free and dangling from two small holes in each side of the box. The middle of the box doesn’t exist. Her bare torso, floating in empty space, connects both sides. A giant black blade floats above her middle like a guillotine.

“Hello.” She giggles. “You need one more.”

“One more for what?” I don’t trust her smile. She reminds me of Harley Quinn, but less stable.

“To cut me in half, silly.” She gestures to her stomach. “Three won’t do at all.”

“No way,” Willow says before I can even consider it. “We’re not doing it.” She looks at me. Whatever she sees there makes her repeat herself. “We’re not doing it. We can just duck under the damn box.” She lets go of Lucy, who sags against the wall, and steps toward the girl.

Iron bars blink into existence all around the box, floor to ceiling, and we are left standing in front of massive gates locked in the middle by a single torso. Willow scrambles back.

“Silly, silly, silly,” the girl sings, shaking her head back and forth so her hair shimmers like water. She stops and stares at me. “You know you can.”

“What?” I snap, but I know what she means. I can do it. I can cut her in half if I need to. She won’t be hurt—not for real. Magicians heal. Can they recover from being cut in half, though? I don’t know. Although I’d have to hope this girl wouldn’t be so overly cheerful if she couldn’t.

I move to the blade and tug.

Willow screams something at me, but I am all white noise and action. I can’t think or I won’t do what needs to be done.

The blade doesn’t budge.

I eye the smooth black metal.

Eight grooves for eight hands indent the handle. Four people. We need one more, just like she said.

She nods at me. “He’s coming.”

“Who?” The word barely leaves my mouth when I hear footsteps. I turn and face Ethan, in another horrible red suit, perfectly pressed. I glance down at my own ragged dress.

He takes in each of us quickly, eyes narrowing on the girl’s torso and the blade above it.

He knows what needs to be done. He looks at me again. “What are you waiting for?”

I’m almost glad to see him. “We need a fourth person.”