One moment he’d been alone in the woods, the next surrounded by Fury. Three of them. Terrifying creatures without heads or feet. Death hiding in black shrouds. But the death called Fury had teeth and claws, and they’d tortured and toyed with his mind and body for hours. Manipulated and exposed his deepest fears and doubts, broken his mind and his body.

Trust us and we will leave you alone. Surrender to us and we’ll keep you safe from harm. We are friends. We are you.

But he’d resisted them, and the more he did, the harsher their attacks became. During the worst of it, he’d begged for death.

Death is too small a price for your sins, they’d whispered.

They wanted him alive for the final showdown. For the day Haven Valley was destroyed from within. Jamie didn’t understand what it meant, but their haunting words filled him with a deeper fear than he’d ever known.

The Fury were real. What they were was still an enigma, but his injuries proved their power beyond doubt. Could they be defeated?

Jamie closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Rose had been right all along. The Fury were destroying the wicked, and nothing would stop them. You could only avoid it by believing the right things and following the right path. It was the only thing that made any sense.

“You really are in bad shape.”

The voice was low, and Jamie jerked his head toward it, half expecting to find himself face-to-face with another Fury. But the speaker wasn’t a Fury. It was a man dressed in white. A man he’d seen only once before, a long time ago.

“Hello, Jamie,” Sylous said.

Jamie blinked, stunned by the man’s casual nature. Nothing about him had changed since he’d visited the Holy Family thirteen years ago. Not his age, not his suit, not a hair on his head, as far as Jamie could see. Because he was more than just a man.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” Sylous said, placing a hand on his own chest. “My name is Sylous.” He shoved his chin at Jamie. “And you look like you’re in a bit of trouble.”

Jamie lay propped up against the tree, frozen.

“What do you say?” Sylous pushed. “You’re in trouble, yes?”

“Yes,” Jamie finally croaked.

“Clearly.”

Sylous flicked a smooth white pebble he’d been holding into the air, then caught it in his palm.

“I help with trouble,” he said. He took a single step forward, eyes on Jamie. “I can help you with your trouble.” Again he flicked the small stone into the air and caught it. “Do you know what your trouble is, Jamie?” He didn’t pause to let Jamie answer. It was that kind of conversation. “Doubt,” he said.

Flick.