I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t push the words out. I love him. And I can’t stay here when he’s not.

He saw the look on my face and nodded. “I know what it’s like to be torn away from someone you love,” he said. “Do what you have to do.”

“Juri knows all about us, Henry. He could show up at any second.”

“But he won’t find me. I need to lie low, anyway, being a fugitive from justice and all that.” He looked over his shoulder at Raphael, and then back at me. “Go, Lela. I’ll hold down the fort and protect your friends until you come back.”

I stared into the haunted depths of his eyes. None of my well-meaning lies or promises made it past the shriek caught in my throat, so I walked away from him and got into my car. I twisted my key in the ignition and backed out of the driveway.

By the time I got onto the highway, the wailing in my mind had declared its rhythm and settled in to stay like an old friend, one who wanted to torture me before he killed me. I didn’t need another friend like that. But there was no shaking this agony planting itself on the inside of my skull, portraying images of Malachi’s stern, gorgeous face, replaying moments, like the one in which he’d told me that being with me when I was hurting was much less painful than being away from me and knowing he couldn’t help.

“I feel the same way,” I whispered to myself as I drove over the bridges to Newport.

I motored all the way to the start of the Cliff Walk, and then headed out on foot, in the dark. I closed my eyes and let the vision plow its way to the front of my brain, just like I knew it would, just like it had with Nadia. But this time the vision—the bait—was Malachi, ripped free of his body, hurtling down a deep black hole.

And when he opened his eyes, they were waiting for him. The monsters were more than happy to welcome him. They would keep him in their realm, torturing him for all the things he’d done to them, for eternity.

I reeled a little as the sea breeze swirled around me.

“I’m surprised you can still walk,” said Raphael, appearing at my side. “You’re going to collapse soon, though. Would you like to come back to the car and let me drive you back to the house?”

I gave him the finger. “Don’t pretend to be worried about me. You want to patch me up and send me back into the fight.”

“I’m not sure what I said to make you think I’m worried about you. I do my duty, and so should you.”