He wrenched his foot away with a muffled grunt, then tottered for a moment before crashing to the floor, the knife protruding from his foot. She yanked out the pen, its blade stained with blood.

“Gods below,” he sputtered.

A small smile curled her lips. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

He rose, lunging for her like a lion attacking its prey. She stabbed him again; she’d aimed for his heart, but the blade lodged in his stomach instead.

On his knees, Abe threw back his head, roaring, the bony pen shaking where it protruded from his gut. He clawed at it, as the wound started to smoke. The smell of burning flesh filled the room. Emerazel’s weapon.

Abe leapt to his feet in a blur of motion and staggered toward the exit, blood and steam bubbling between his fingers.

She rose on her elbows, trying out one of her new seductive smiles. “For such a little thing, it’s got a hell of a bite.”

“Bitch,” he spat before flinging open the door and disappearing into the hall.

Chapter 24

Ursula lay on her back and stared at the eggshell-white ceiling, trying to will herself to move.

But the first step was peeling herself off the bathroom floor. Her legs tingled with pins and needles, and she almost cried with relief when she moved her toes. She pushed herself up, onto her hands and knees. She crawled closer to Zee, panting. Hadn’t Abe said the opera was the perfect place to put aside one’s anxieties? Wanker.

She crouched next to Zee, her heart tightening at the sight of her. The fae girl’s chest hardly moved. Blood stained her dress and matted her hair, though Ursula was pretty sure that belonged to Abe.

She reached out, feeling for a pulse on Zee’s neck. It was faint, but blood flowed gently beneath her translucent skin. If she could only get her outside, there was a Bentley waiting for them by the Met’s entrance.

Thank God Abe hadn’t killed her, but she wasn’t about to walk out of here. How the hell do I wake her up?

Once, she’d seen someone come back from the dead. Braden, a boy in her first foster home, had a nut allergy, and he’d chowed through a packet of almond macaroons without realizing. He’d passed out in less than five minutes, but an EpiPen had completely revived him.

That was what epinephrine did, right? It sent hormones racing through your veins. She just needed to get her hands on one. Her pulse raced. This was not a good situation.

She panted, still trying to catch her breath, her knees pressed into the cold tile. Maybe this was a good time to call Kester.