The knife lay beside me. My fingers inched toward it, but Aludra pinned my wrist. “My turn now.”

I had one chance to live. As she held the knife to my cheek, I pushed my spirit into the æther.

In spirit form, I saw through new eyes, on a new plane. Here, I was sighted. The æther appeared as a silent void, studded with star-like orbs, each orb a dreamscape. Aludra was physically close to me; her “orb,” consequently, wasn’t too far away. It would be suicidal to try and break into her mind—it was very old, very strong—but her lust for glow had weakened her defenses. It was now or never. I flew into her mind.

She wasn’t ready, and I was fast. I reached her midnight zone before she realized what had happened. When she did, I was thrown out with the force of a bullet. I was back in my body before I knew it, staring at the ceiling of the chapel. Aludra was on her knees, clutching her head.

“Get her out, get her out,” she screeched. “She walks!” I scrambled to my feet, gasping for air, only to lurch into Warden, who caught me by the shoulders. His gloved fingers dug into my skin. He wasn’t trying to hurt me—just to hold me, to restrain me—but my spirit was like a flytrap: it reacted to danger. Almost against my will, I tried the same attack.

This time I didn’t even reach the æther. I couldn’t move.

Warden. It was him. This time it was he who was sucking the energy out of me, leeching my aura. I could only watch in shock as I was drawn toward him as if a flower to the sun.

Then he stopped. It was like a wire between us had snapped. And his eyes were bright red, like blood.

I stared into them. He stepped back and looked at Nashira.

Silence reigned. Then the hooded Rephaim stood and applauded. I sat on the floor, stunned.

Nashira knelt beside me and placed a gloved hand on my head. “Beautiful. My little dreamwalker.”

I tasted blood. She knew.

Nashira stood and turned toward Seb, who had watched with as much fear as his injuries would allow. Now his barely open eye came to rest on her as she walked to the back of the chair.

“Thank you for your services. We are grateful.” She placed her hands on either side of his head. “Good-bye.”

“No, please, don’t—please! I don’t want to die. Paige—!”

She jerked his head to the side. His eyes widened, and a gurgle came from between his lips.

She’d just killed him.

“Too late.” Nashira let go of his head. It flopped. “You could have done it, 40. Painlessly. If only you’d done as I asked.”