“August Pfeiffer.” His lips don’t move, but his voice fills my head, a soft, rasping purr. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you. Our time is at hand.”

I breathe deep, and a knot inside me loosens, weeks of stress dissolving. For the first time, I know the answer to my problem, and the relief is indescribable. The Order of the Northern Wolf needs me, and I need them, and only if we’re together will I ever be truly safe. Lightness travels through me, and I’m practically floating as my fingers seek the release for my seat belt. He’ll catch me if I climb out the window, and then—

“Don’t look at him!” Darkness falls instantly, Daphne’s hand clamping over my eyes, and all the heaviness and pain slams back into my body. I gasp for air, dizzy, the car still weaving and skidding over the road. “Don’t look at anything—just keep your eyes shut and hang on!”

When she peels her fingers away again, I do as I’m told. Two seconds of eye contact, and I was so deep in the hypnotic thrall of an undead cult leader that I was prepared to literally fling myself into his arms. Daphne hits the gas, the car leaping forward again, and I yelp with terror when my side of the vehicle smashes into something.

We rebound from the impact, fishtail, and straighten out. A blow hammers against the windshield from the outside—once, twice, the glass cracking loudly—and I whimper like an animal. Am I going to be ripped out of my seat by a claw-handed monster, dragged off to Vampire Jonestown with my eyes squeezed shut the whole way? Once again, Daphne’s voice breaks through the dark spiral of my thoughts, clipped and urgent. “Brace yourself, Auggie, this isn’t going to be fun.”

The engine revs, the car hurtles faster, and I sink into my seat. Rasputin’s fist comes down on the windshield again, the glass shattering; then the wheels meet resistance, the vehicle bucks up, and—impact. I’m slammed forward so hard the seat belt rips skin from the side of my neck, and I cry out as glass, metal, and plastic are crushed together with a deafening roar. My head bounces against the side window, lights flashing, pain cutting a path from my scalp to my stomach.

For a moment after the car settles again, I grip the dashboard, convinced I’m about to vomit or die. The air stinks like gas, my ears are ringing, and my thoughts won’t fit together—puzzle pieces with all the wrong ends trying to join up. My right side hurts so badly I can’t move, and when Daphne puts her hands on me again, I let out a pitiful moan. “Auggie? Auggie, I’m so sorry, but you need to take these.”