“Of course you do—I trained you. But there’s no way this is a one-man job. You’ll need help.” Jude rolls his shoulders. “Anyway, believe it or not, I don’t want you to die, and I don’t want the Corrupter to Ascend. If there’s any way my entering into this pact will aid the plan to stop him, I’m on board, and that’s all there is to it.” With a defeated gesture, he adds, “Besides, Auggie is right: Absent a guarantee that they would control him, Azazel is a threat to the Syndics’ entire power structure. So in my view—and Hecuba’s—anything I do to prevent the Ascension is in their best interests.”

“Okay.” I bob my head, my insides careening around like a pinball game. Now that they’ve agreed, it feels like we somehow just took a massive leap closer to Friday. “Okay.”

Mechanically, I retrieve my items from the kitchen and arrange them on the floor in a circle, following my instincts. I place a hunk of crystal in one position, to signify earth; in the next, I set a cone of incense, its smoke meant to call forth the element of air; then a bit of volcanic rock for fire, a seashell for water, and a budding twig for wood. The last element, metal, is represented by a coin so old its engravings are worn away completely.

Jude arches a brow. “You’re certainly prepared.”

“Sort of?” I don’t want to admit just how much I’m winging it, here. Setting out a bowl and a group of seven candles, I then move around the apartment, drawing the thick black curtains across the windows—not for any particular reason, but because that’s how I remember it. The exposed brick walls, the heavy drapes, the bowl and candlelight and smoking incense … My visions changed a little, but each time the room looked like this. I’ve got what might be a cyclone of bumblebees swarming in my guts, because my visions also consistently featured a lot of nakedness, and I still don’t know if I’m ready for that.

When I turn back to the circle, to the two vampires who wait and watch, my heart thuds between my legs as I remember them without their shirts. I’m such a joke—about to enter into a mystical pact with the undead, on the precipice of literal doomsday, and I’m getting a boner. Life would be a lot easier if I could’ve been born a hermit crab or something.

Gunnar senses my hesitance and cocks his head. “Auggie?”

“I…” I’m at full mast now, and I’m not sure they can’t tell. Maybe getting my soul immolated won’t be so bad after all. “I don’t really know how to do this.”