My head bowed, and Trent knelt before me, singing in words I couldn’t understand, his beautiful voice rising and falling so softly, it was only for me to hear. A tear slid down my face, a tear for all that I hadn’t done, that I should have done differently. Regret. But it didn’t matter now.

Trent’s energies prickled against me, and I suddenly realized he wasn’t singing anymore.

“Rachel?” he breathed, and I lifted my head, numb. “Si peccabas, poenam meres,” he said softly, putting a hand on my shoulder, and I shivered as the curse slid gently from him to me, settling like tattered silk atop my aura.

“Why?” I pleaded, thinking I’d been stupid to trust him. My eyes met his, begging for mercy. It was just us, though we were surrounded by hundreds bearing witness to the event.

“Because you’re the only one who can,” he said, and I stiffened as the curse began to soak in, making me want to scream. Like a thousand beetles boring into my skin, I felt the curse burrow into me, finding a place among my cells, wiggling, squirming maggots embedding themselves in my soul. A smut-tainted wash of ever-after coated me, and as I heard the howls of the crowd become muffled, I knew I was being pulled into a ley line. And yet Trent gripped my shoulder, not done with me yet.

“She’s still here!” Oliver shouted, his ugly face shimmering behind Trent’s circle.

“The first part shifts the curse,” Trent said, talking to Oliver, but looking at me, his fingers pinching my shoulder so hard it hurt. “It’s the second one that severs it from me and banishes her.”

He was telling me how to do the curse, but I could hardly focus on him, my drive buried under wild magic and my senses dulled. Somehow my gaze found my mother in the mass of howling people. She was crying, leaning on Ivy, who stood stoically as her heart broke. Seeing me look at her, my mom rallied, pushing away the man blocking her and striding forward.

“Give them hell, Rachel!” she shouted at the edge of the bubble, tears streaming down her face. “I’m proud of you!”

Trent yanked me up by the shoulder, and I staggered, my knees barely able to hold my weight. “I curse you, Rachel Mariana Morgan, to be fixed to the reality I banish you to. There you are cursed to remain until summoned, be it day or night, forever bound as a demon.” His eyebrow lifted, mocking me. “You got all that? Want me to write it down for you?”

The curse. He wanted me to give it to Ku’Sox. Should I be pissed or marvel at his foresight? “Okay,” I said numbly, and a hint of a smile flickered in his eyes. My jaw trembled, and doubt hit me. Why was I trusting him! “Trent? Wait!” I cried out, knees throbbing.

“Just so you know, I’ve trusted you since camp,” Trent said, then shouted dramatically, “Facilis descensus Tartaros!”