“You saved me,” she said. Her smile was beatific, her arms open, waiting to be received by him. “Finally, my love. We can be together once again.”

“My dearest love,” said Blackwood, the words catching in his throat like a sob.

“Take me,” she said. “Embrace me. And again we will be one.”

“Yes, my dear,” said Blackwood. “Yes. But let me…allow me to look at you.” His healthy, young wife. She looked ravishing. “Give me this moment, dear.”

She tried. She angled her shoulders ever so slightly, smiling, a portrait of beauty, of youth, of health and happiness.

“Oh, Hugo,” she said, unable to hold herself back, “we must be together. Take me. I can wait no longer.”

Orleanna rushed to him, arms open. Blackwood opened his arms to receive his one true love, but at the last moment, just before she reached him, he grabbed her fine throat.

He squeezed it tightly, crushing the muscles of her neck, closing off air. Orleanna’s face contorted in pain and confusion.

Blackwood’s eyes went from soft despair to baleful anger.

Then the illusion faded, Orleanna’s face becoming that of Agent Odessa Hardwicke.

Blackwood was shocked a moment, appalled, expecting to see Earl Solomon.

And in that split second of distraction, the Hollow One broke Blackwood’s grip, using his arm to spin him into the stone wall.

Blackwood came off it dazed. Odessa came at him, her eyes wild. A demon. A Hollow.

It came at him with disorienting speed, grabbing him and throwing him with banshee strength. Blackwood landed hard against a ledge near the graves. The Hollow came at him with its arms waving, its mouth open but silent. He caught it with his shoe, a thundering blow to the midsection. With his other leg, he jettisoned it away.

Blackwood got to his feet and quickly produced his leather kit. He unfurled it and selected one of the instruments inside, a narrow-bladed steel dagger. He would eject the Hollow and hold it here with an immobilizing spell until help arrived.

The Hollow struck him bodily from the side, sending both of them flying, the kit and its contents falling from Blackwood’s hand. He fell along the stone floor, face-first, rolling over just in time to catch the Hollow in wild flight, landing atop him.

One hand gripped the Hollow’s throat, holding it at bay. Blackwood’s other hand held the dagger.

The Hollow pounded on his face and chest wildly, slowing only as Blackwood’s grip tightened around its neck. Its eyes saw the steel blade as Blackwood raised his hand behind the Hollow’s head, blade pointing down.

“I am sorry, Agent Hardwicke.”

He pressed the steel point against the base of her skull, ready to slay the unfortunate victim. But his hand held. He hesitated, and then experienced a vision. Odessa’s face appeared as Orleanna’s again. But this vision was not, he determined, the Hollow’s doing.