For a moment, his strong, athletic form distracted her. Focus, Rosalind. She was turning into that full blown sociopath she’d imagined before. “So how do we get a laptop?”

He stepped into a pair of freshly-laundered black pants. “I could just take one from someone.”

“Half of Cambridge will have one,” she said, pushing aside any moral quibbles about theft. “We’re not far from Harvard. The students will be walking around with them.”

He slid his shirt over his broad shoulders. “Give me ten minutes.”

Chapter 29

After Caine left, Rosalind stepped out of the bath, drying herself off with a towel.

She slipped into the clothes that Orcus had laid out—a pair of black leggings, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket. He’d even included a pair of bright red underwear, exactly her size. Either one of Caine’s conquests had left these items behind, or Orcus had created them through magic, perfectly gauging her size. She wasn’t sure which possibility was weirder.

Either way, she had more pressing matters on her mind. She pulled on her boots, zipping them over her pants. She was desperate for a computer.

She racked her brain for everything she could remember about assembly languages from her class last semester. Right now, lives depended on her ability to recall Professor Carroll’s murderously dull lectures about compiling.

She pushed through the door into the celestial room, sitting on the edge of the bed, her nails digging into the blanket. An image burned in her mind—Miranda tied to a chair, her limbs beaten bloody by Josiah. Rosalind shook her head, trying to force the picture from her mind. This wasn’t the time to lose it. Think of something calming: the water running over my toes at the beach, a hawthorn grove.

It was strange. Lingering around the edges of her most cherished childhood memories were Miranda and Caine, ephemeral figures in the hollows of her mind. Caine’s eyes were her only solid memory. Gray irises and sun kissed skin— such a beautiful combination of warm and cool, like when sunlight pierced the storm clouds. It was so much like Malphus…

She shuddered. She couldn’t think of Malphus now.

She couldn’t let herself picture the pained look in his eyes as Josiah had twisted the stake in his heart. Did the other incubus live still in those dungeons, or had she unknowingly participated in his brutal murder?

She stood, pacing the room. She’d have to tell Caine—maybe she should have told him already. An ache welled in her chest. She tried to force out the images flitting through her mind: Josiah beating Miranda, Tammi trembling in the corner of an empty cell room, Rosalind’s own face as she poured the water over Malphus…

She forced back tears, gripping her hair by the roots. She had to keep it together. Tammi and the others needed her to stay sane, and if Malphus was still in the Chambers, this was her chance to make up for what she’d done, by saving him.