My parents clutch the bars of their cage, crying out—but the only sound they make is my name, over and over: Auggie, Auggie, Auggie. The rest of their vocabulary has been stripped from them, certainly by magic, but those two repeated syllables are filled with anguish, love, and desperation. I’m sobbing when the birches give a sudden shake, a figure launching over the treetops, dropping in a graceful arc to land twenty feet in front of me.

Clad in a black tunic with embroidered occult markings, Grigori Rasputin leers at me with eyes like rolling lava. His followers shift behind him, straightening their shoulders, and a few of them even salute. Twisting his mouth into a smile, he intones, “We meet again. I wonder, will you run away like a scared child this time, as well?”

“Let my parents go.” I can barely get the words out, my throat hot. “Until they’re out of that cage, there’s no deal, you son of a bitch.”

“Such spirit!” He gives a condescending laugh, and his acolytes laugh with him, a blood-curdling Greek chorus that falls silent at a gesture from one of his spidery hands. His expression droops into a thoughtful frown. “I think, however, this is a condition I cannot meet. Without your parents under my protection, what guarantee do I have that you will honor our agreement?”

“Unless you set them free now, what guarantee do I have that you’ll do it at all?” I make a tentative mind-push into Rasputin’s consciousness—but I hit a brick wall. He’s shielded himself with the same kind of magic the coven used. I wonder if he’s bothered to protect the rest of his crew. “No more negotiating!”

My paranormal radar system is going haywire, my skin crawling from the inside out. Rasputin wants me to take this oath as a guarantee, but if he truly believes the Corrupter is on his side, then all he has to do is grab me right now. Somewhere above us, the planets are gliding into formation, and I probably have just minutes left to pull this frying pan out of the fire. I’m going to need all the luck the universe has to offer.

“It would seem, then, that we are at something of an impasse.” Spreading his hands philosophically, the Mad Monk shrugs. “We both have something the other wants, and neither of us is willing to conciliate.” And then he grins malevolently, his face darkening. “If only there was perhaps something I could do to change your mind…”