We walked, two steps at a time. I fell once and had to crawl through the blood, but we were moving. The circle grew closer.

Look into your future. Look into the very depths of your heart. You know what your father wants.

The circle was almost within reach.

A vision thrust into my mind.

He is hiding the future from you. But my power is too great. I can see him. Let me show you what I see . . .

The world disappeared. A hill rolled in front of me, emerald grass under the blue sky. Roland stood on its crest. He was holding a baby.

Magic crashed against me, a familiar yet different magic coming from the child, so strong, it took my breath away.

My son had Curran’s gray eyes.

It was the truth. I felt the connection between us stretching through time. I felt the love I had poured into my child. My baby.

My son reached for me . . .

Roland smiled and turned, taking the baby away.

I screamed. He couldn’t. It was our child. My life, my soul, everything I hoped for.

This is what he wants. This is what he always wanted. You know it to be true. He will take your son. He will use your child to control you. He will turn him into a monster. You cannot stop it.

“Put the earring into the box, baby,” Curran said next to me. “You can do it.”

But I can stop it. I will stop it. Don’t you love your baby? Don’t you want to keep him safe?

I would keep him safe. I would. I don’t need you.

Yes, you do. You can’t beat him alone.

I don’t need you.

“I don’t need you. I don’t need you. You have no power over me.” I heard my own voice and realized I was screaming.

You will die and rot without me. Your family will rot. Everyone you love will be slaughtered. Take my hand and I will give you eternal power.

I opened my fingers.

The earring plunged down, bounced from the rim of the box, and fell into the circle. I had fallen short.

George’s hand closed about the gold. The werebear screamed, her face distorted, her eyes terrible. She clenched her teeth. The muscles on her arm were ready to rip. A second arm began to form over her stump.

With a guttural cry, George shoved herself forward and dropped the earring into the box. A burst of fire shot out of the small container. Eduardo loomed above it, the lid in his hand. The fire bathed him, burning his arms.

Eduardo pushed the lid down. The jet of fire held it up, fighting him. Eduardo strained. The lid slid down a hair, then another hair.

“You can do it, son,” Bahir called out.