22

“COME ON,” NADIA WHISPERED, TEARS OF SHEER EXERTION rolling down her face. “Just—a few more inches—”

She reached desperately for the doorway of the room where she was trapped, fingers extended, every joint in her hand and arm aching. If she could only get hold of one of the shards of glass lying right outside, maybe she could start to hack away at the cobwebs surrounding her. Already she could hardly see the lower half of her body, and her left leg was going numb. Nadia had let herself fall to the floor, knowing the glass was her best chance, but now she wondered if she’d wind up mummified here, swaddled in gray filmy stuff, spiders all over her.

Already Nadia had tried to cast spells to liberate herself, but the Book of Shadows’s protections were ancient and primal. Her magic skittered across it like a raindrop across the windshield of a car, without any chance of getting in and changing anything.

Worst of all, she felt as if it were staring at her. Enjoying her fear and pain.

Nadia clutched desperately at the spiderwebs, trying to pull them away; little legs scrambled through her hair, and she screamed. How long had she been screaming? It seemed like forever, and it seemed like she pulled away handfuls of cobwebs every second, but there were always more around her, bearing her down.

Elizabeth walked into the ocean again; her blood would still be strong here. It would work.

Mateo followed her. He couldn’t help it. The frigidity of the waters affected him more than it did her. As the tides splashed over their waists, up toward their shoulders, he said, voice shaking from the severe cold, “Are you—going to—drown us?”

“We will die by fire,” she promised. “Silence. I have work to do.”

The eyes in her hand were smooth against her palm. They knew her blood, and again they would see.

“You might as well kill me,” Mateo said. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? What you did to Mom, my grandfather, Jeremy. What you tried to do to Verlaine. You use us up and throw us away.”

“Yes. But I haven’t used you up yet. Your curse is a part of me, Mateo. As long as I live, so does the curse.”

Enough distractions. This spell—even for her, this was difficult. Elizabeth had to bring all her concentration to bear, though she knew it would mean her hold on Mateo lessened for a moment. No matter. She knew her duty.

As the eyes drifted away into the tides, she felt the cord between her and Mateo—not break, but bend and stretch, giving him slightly more liberty. He felt it, too, or saw it; he was a Steadfast, after all.

Mateo threw himself at her, bearing them both down underwater. A wave came in, tossing them hard against the shells and sand; Mateo struggled for purchase, trying to get enough grip with his feet to anchor her against the ocean floor and drown her. Elizabeth could have laughed at his foolishness.