I nodded, closing my eyes. I could see the sea of dresses in front of me, see David’s bewildered face as I’d slammed the door.

“Yes,” I said. “All seven of them.”

“Harper.” Saylor’s eyes were huge with pain and fear, her skin paper white. “There were only six other girls.”

Chapter 40

THIS TIME, I didn’t look or think. I let my fists and feet fly almost independently as I fought my way back up the stairs. These weren’t people I knew, these were things standing between me and my duty. The only time I hesitated was when Aunt Jewel came at me with the punch ladle. It killed me to do it, but one quick elbow thrust to her temple sent her sliding harmlessly to the floor. Stepping over her prone form, I swore to myself that I’d go visit Aunt Jewel every single day when this was all over, and make her as many cakes as she could ever want.

The house shook as I moved toward the bedroom. I heard a distant crash, and realized it was the chandelier in the main hall falling to the ground. Light was pouring out from underneath the bedroom door, golden and searing, and all I could hear was the pounding of my heart and the constant repetition of Too late, too late.

Throwing my shoulder against the door, I forced it open, and immediately threw my hands up to shade my eyes.

David stood stock-still in the middle of the room, bathed in light, glowing with it. It poured from his fingers, filled his eyes, spilled out of his open mouth. The other girls were all huddled together against the far wall, heads down, while Blythe, clad in a white dress, a blond wig crooked on top of her head, stood on the bed. Her eyes were closed, nose still a little swollen from our fight, and she held both hands open at her sides. Words in a language I’d never heard fell from her lips and seemed to fill the room. Both windows shattered, and I heard high, thin screams.

I launched myself at Blythe, knocking her back on the bed. She gave a grunt as the air rushed out of her lungs, and started to shake. At first, I thought she was crying, but as I rose up on my knees, straddling her waist, I realized she was laughing.

“It’s too late!” she yelled as the house continued to shake and sway. “Look at him! He’s beautiful!”

David was still standing there, still covered bright light. He didn’t look beautiful. He looked beautiful in his stupid sweaters and dumb glasses and unfortunate pants. Now he looked terrifying and unnatural and . . . not human.

As I watched, he lifted one glowing hand toward the girls against the wall. I saw Bee lift her face, saw her wide, horrified eyes.