I woke to the sound of floorboards creaking. I opened my eyes to see the Warden come through the doorway. Aside from the two remaining candles, his eyes were the only light. He walked across the room toward my corner. I feigned sleep. I lay still. Finally, after what seemed like aeons, he left. This time his footsteps were less cautious, and I could tell from their pattern that he was sporting a heavy limp. The bathroom door slammed shut behind him.

What could injure such a creature as a Rephaite?

He was gone for a few minutes. In that time I could count every heartbeat. When the lock turned in the door, I dropped my head back into my arms. Warden stepped out, naked as sin. I closed my eyes.

I kept up my act as he moved toward the four-poster, knocking a glass orb to the floor. Ripples flickered through the æther. He wrenched the drapes around the bed, concealing him from view. Only when his mind quieted did I open my eyes and sit up. No movement.

Barefoot, I approached the bed and I slid my fingers between the drapes, opening them just enough to see him. He lay on his side, covered by the sheets, his skin glistening in the half-light. His coarse brown hair was snarled over his face. As I watched, a dim light spread through the bedding, close to where his right arm lay.

I brushed his dreamscape. Something was different. I couldn’t get much from it, but it wasn’t quite as it should be. Every dreamscape had a kind of invisible light: an inner glow, imperceptible to amaurotic senses. Now his vital light was going out.

He was still as the grave. When I looked down at the sheets, I found them spotted with a softly luminous, yellow-green liquid. It had a thin, metallic scent. My sixth sense felt as if it was being plucked, as if I was inhaling the æther. I rolled the heavy bedclothes down.

A bite oozed on the inside of his arm. I swallowed. I could see the faint imprints of teeth, skin ripped in a vicious frenzy. The wound wept beads of light. Blood.

It was his blood.

He must have told the other Rephaim he was going somewhere. They would have known he was doing something dangerous. There was no way they could find the evidence to blame me if he died.

Then I remembered what Liss had said to me in the shack. Rephs aren’t human. No matter how much they look like us, they’re not like us.

Like they would care if there was no evidence. They could fabricate evidence. They could say whatever they liked. If he died on this bed, they could easily claim I’d smothered him. It would give Nashira an excuse to kill me early.

Maybe I should do it. This was my chance to get rid of him. I’d killed before. I could do it again.

I had three options. I could sit here and watch him die, kill him, or try and stop it. I’d rather watch him die, but I sensed it might be better to save him. I was reasonably safe in Magdalen. The last thing I wanted to do at this stage was move.