A few people were weeping now; others stood in rapt horror. Nashira didn’t seem to notice. She hadn’t even blinked when the girl died. She hadn’t blinked at all.

“Rephaim do not forgive. Those of you who adapt to this system will be rewarded. Those who do not will be punished. None of us want that to happen, but should you show us disrespect, you will suffer. This is your life now.”

Seb fainted. Julian and I propped him up between us, but he was still a dead weight.

The nine Rephaim stepped down from their plinths. I kept my head down.

“These Rephaim have offered their services as keepers,” Nashira informed us. “They will decide which of you they wish to take.”

Seven of the nine began to walk around the room, between the rows. The last one—the one I’d looked at—stayed with Nashira. I didn’t dare look at Julian, but I said in a whisper, “It can’t be true.”

“Look at them.” He barely moved his lips. Our proximity on either side of Seb was all that allowed me to hear him. “They’re not human. They’re from somewhere else.”

“You mean this ‘Netherworld’?” I shut my mouth when a Reph passed, then continued: “The only other dimension is the æther. That’s it.”

“The æther exists alongside meatspace—around us, not outside of us. This is something more.”

A frantic laugh bubbled up inside me. “Scion’s gone mad.”

Julian didn’t answer. Across the room, a Rephaite took Carl by the elbow. “XX-59-1,” she said, “I lay claim to you.” Carl swallowed as he was led to a plinth, but he kept up his brave face. Once he was deposited, the Rephaim returned to their circling, like flimps sizing up a wealthy target.

I wondered how they were choosing us. Was it bad for Carl to have been chosen so soon?

Minutes ticked by. The rows dwindled. The whisperer, now XX-59-2, joined Carl. The oracle went with Pleione, seemingly uninterested by the procedure. A cruel-faced male dragged the palmist to his plinth. She started to cry, gasping “please” over and over, to no avail. Soon Julian was taken. XX-59-26. He shot me a look, nodded, and went with his new keeper to the plinths.

Twelve more names were changed to numbers. They got to 38. Finally there were eight of us left: the six amaurotics, a julker, and me.

Someone had to choose me. Several of the Rephaim had examined me, paying close attention to my body and my eyes, but none had claimed me. What would happen if I wasn’t chosen?

The julker, a small boy with cornrows, was led away by Pleione. 39. Now I was the only voyant left.

The Rephaim looked to Nashira. She looked at those of us who remained. My spine pulled tight as rope.

Then the one that had watched me stepped forward. He didn’t speak, but he drew closer to Nashira, and his head tilted toward me. Her eyes flicked to my face. She raised a hand and crooked a long finger. Like Pleione, she wore black gloves. All of them did.