One by one, I fastened on them as a way out, and one by one, my memories were ripped away by the energy screaming through me, burning until I realized that my aura was gone. There was nothing left for the line to recognize. I couldn’t think fast enough, and I was going to die here amid the screeching of unbalanced energies and the forgotten souls of demons who couldn’t love. In utter agony, I curled my memories around what was left and tried to see past the pain, to form another thought to prove that I wasn’t dead yet. But it was too late, and terror struck me when my thoughts gave a hiccup, vanishing for an instant, then returning weaker than before.

Ms. Morgan! a panicked thought touched mine, and recoiled, leaving the scent of rock chips in the sun.

Bis? Mindless from the pain, I felt my soul start to burn. The sensation of dry grit and the sharp feel of ion-charged water grew stronger. I felt him wrap his soul around me, and yet I still burned.

Help me, Bis, I managed, and then with a ping, the shattered remnants of my soul shifted.

Thirty

I screamed, raw and pained, and it was real. My agony was joined by a woman’s startled cry and the sudden wailing of a baby. My face plowed into a tile floor, and my arms and legs went askew. Flat on my stomach, I lay on cold tile and burned, the salt-laden air cauterizing my skin. Above me, the drafts from Bis’s wing beats burned across my shoulders, and I moaned. Make it stop. Please.

“Help her!” the gargoyle cried out, and I sobbed with relief when he settled beside me and it was only the salt in the air that burned my skin. I was on fire, and I tried to move, the slippery sheen sliding under me.

“My God. Rachel?”

It was Trent, and I started to cry. Bis had found me and taken me to Trent. I couldn’t get up. Every breath hurt. Someone was having hysterics, and Lucy—it had to be Lucy—was crying at the top of her lungs, frightened by the noise.

“She’s burned!” Bis was saying, and my body started to shake as I curled into a ball. “She was in the lines. I felt her burning, and it woke me up. I found her. Got her out. Please pick her up. She needs help.”

I sucked in the air in giant heaves, recognizing the sound of surf over the unmistakable commotion of a frightened woman being ushered out. I was with Trent. Where were we?

“Ms. Morgan!” Bis babbled, and a spasm shook me when his clawed hand touched me and the broken lines of San Francisco exploded in me.

“Bis! Don’t touch her!” Trent shouted, and a door shut. The crying baby and the woman were gone.

“Her aura is gone,” Bis said, and I sobbed in relief when his fingers fell away. Oh God, it hurt. “Someone needs to hold her, give her an aura. That’s why I brought her to you. I saw your aura in the kitchen. It’s the same as hers. Her mind might not know the difference. She really hurts, Mr. Kalamack. Please!”