“I want you to promise not to interfere with me. You will not try to stop me from bringing about the ritual. You agree to this, and in return, I swear I will not harm your daughter or lift a hand against her.”

“We’re supposed to trust each other?”

Colchester smiles. “No. I expect you’d ram that sword of yours right through this darling little boy the second I turned my back.”

“You wouldn’t have to turn your back,” Alana says.

Colchester nods, acknowledging the point. “You don’t have to believe me. I have a way to ensure we both keep our ends of the bargain.”

He puts out his hand — the little boy’s hand, with its tiny fingers — palm up, toward her. He nods to Eric, who takes out a length of cord, and loops one end around the boy’s wrist.

She looks, for some reason, to Eric. Who nods, and Alana hesitates. Colchester smiles again. She hates how she can see the little boy’s teeth, so tiny and perfect, and yet hear an old voice coming from that mouth. “It’s hard to know who to trust, isn’t it? Well. Don’t worry. If either of us breaks the agreement, there are…penalties.”

“Is that right?” she asks Eric.

“It is,” Eric says. “It works for both of you. Alana, I promise you — ”

“Shut up,” she says.

“One more thing,” Colchester says. “I want your sword.”

“What?” Alana says.

Eric looks surprised as well. “We didn’t discuss — she might not have it on her.”

“Oh, she does,” Colchester says. “I can feel it.”

He’s right. Under her jacket, the sword hums softly between her shoulder blades in the special harness she made in high school. She can feel it glow in Colchester’s presence.

“You’d leave me defenseless,” Alana says.

“I won’t be able raise a hand against you,” Colchester reminds her. “But I’d feel better knowing that the thing that killed me is in a safe place.”

Eric looks at her. She knows she has no choice.

She pulls the sword from under her jacket. For a second, its potential sings to her. It gleams in the dim light of the cave, glowing in the presence of Colchester. If she didn’t know better, she’d say that it longed to carve him to pieces.

But that’s just her.

“Eric,” she says, “you keep it.”

Colchester narrows the boy’s eyes. “I’m not sure I agree with that.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” Alana says. “I know he’s your creature now. You can always order him to give it to you.”

“Fair enough,” Colchester concedes.

“A little hurtful,” Eric says.

She glares at him, but hands the sword over, hilt first. He takes it.

Only then does she put out her arm, and allow Eric to loop the cord around her wrist.