Ceri glanced at David, and I closed my eyes in despair. She thought he could do it. God help me. It was only a matter of time before he figured out how. My gamble to save my soul was going to fail. “Go away,” she said, pulling her attention from David. “Go back to the ever-after and leave Rachel Mariana Morgan in peace. No one here has called you.”

“You can’t banish me, Ceri!” he raged, jerking me upright until I fell into him. “My familiar opened a summoning path for me to follow when she tapped a line. Break this circle and let me take her as is my right!”

Ceri took an exultant breath. “Rachel! He acknowledged you called him. Banish him!”

My eyes widened.

“No!” Algaliarept shouted, sending a flow of ever-after into me. I nearly passed out, the waves of pain washing through me building upon themselves until there was nothing left but agony. But I took a breath, smelling the stink of my burned soul.

“Algaliarept,” I choked out, my voice a ragged gasp. “Return to the ever-after.”

“You little bitch!” he snarled, backhanding me. The force of the blow picked me up, throwing me into Ceri’s wall. I landed in a crumpled heap, unable to think. My head hurt and my throat was raw. The snow under me was cold. I snuggled into it, burning.

“Go away. Go away now,” I whispered.

The overwhelming ever-after energy humming through my brain vanished in a clock-tick. I moaned at its absence. I heard my heart beat, pause, and beat again. It was all I could do to keep breathing, empty with just my own thoughts in my head. It was gone. The fire was gone.

“Get her out of the snow,” I heard Ceri say urgently, her voice easing into me like ice water. I tried to open my eyes, failing. Someone picked me up, and there was the warmth of body heat. It was Keasley, a small part of me decided, as I recognized the smell of redwood and cheap coffee. My head thumped into him and my chin dropped to my chest. I felt small cool hands upon my forehead, and with Ceri singing to me, I felt myself shift into movement.

Nineteen

“Oh God,” I whispered, my words sounding as raw as my throat felt. It was a raspy utterance, more like gravel in a tin pail than a voice. My head hurt, and a wet washcloth smelling of Ivory soap was over my eyes. “I don’t feel so good.”

Ceri’s cool hand touched my cheek. “I’m not surprised,” she said wryly. “Keep your eyes shut. I’m going to change your compress.”