I felt my neck as I swallowed. “Go get him, if he’s not already on his way here. He must have felt me pull on that line.”

Jenks’s face was set. “You should run. Run while you can.”

Shaking my head, I watched Ivy, her confident self-assurance shattered into nothing as she rocked herself and cried. I couldn’t go. I couldn’t walk away because it would be safer. She needed help, and I was the only one who stood a chance of surviving her.

“Damn it all to hell!” Jenks shouted. “She’s going to kill you!”

“We’ll be okay,” I said as I lurched to her. “Go get Nick. Please. I need him to get through this.”

The pitch of his wings rose and fell in tandem with his visible indecision. Finally he nodded and left. The silence his absence made reminded me of the quiet left in a cruddy little hospital room when two faltered to one. Swallowing, I tightened my robe tie. “Ivy,” I whispered. “Come on, Ivy. I’m going to get you inside.” Stealing myself, I reached out and put a shaking hand on her shoulder, jerking away as she shuddered.

“Run away,” she whispered as she stopped rocking, falling into a wire-tight stillness.

My heart pounded as she looked up at me, her eyes empty and her hair wild.

“Run away,” she repeated. “If you run, I’ll know what to do.”

Trembling, I forced myself to remain still, not wanting to trigger her instincts.

Her face went slack, and with a sudden creasing of her brow, a ring of brown showed in her eyes. “Oh God. Help me, Rachel,” she whimpered.

It scared the crap of me.

My legs trembled. I wanted to run. I wanted to leave her on the steps of the church and go. No one would say anything if I did. But instead I reached out and put my hands under her shoulders and lifted. “Come on,” I whispered as I pulled her to her feet. All my instincts screamed to drop her as her hot skin touched mine. “Let’s get you inside.”

She hung slack in my grip. “I said no,” she said, her words starting to slur. “I said no.”

Ivy was taller than I, but my shoulder fit nicely under hers, and supporting most of her weight, I wedged the door open.

“He didn’t listen,” Ivy said, all but incoherent as I dragged her inside and shut the door behind us, shutting out the vomit and blood on the steps outside.

The black of the foyer was smothering. I staggered into motion, the light brightening as we entered the sanctuary. Ivy doubled over, panting around a moan. There was a dark smear of new blood on my robe, and I looked closer. “Ivy,” I said. “You’re bleeding.”

I went cold as her new mantra of “He said it was all right” turned into a giggle. It was a deep, skin crawling giggle, and my mouth went dry.

“Yes,” she said, the word sliding from her with a sultry heat. “I’m bleeding. Want a taste?” Horror settled into me as her giggle slipped into a sobbing moan. “Everyone should have a taste,” she whimpered. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”