“Brilliant,” Al whispered, his cultured voice soft beside me.

I did nothing as a gloved hand curved under my jaw and tilted my head up. I couldn’t see him as I blinked, but I felt the warmth of his hand. “You broke her utterly,” Al said in wonder.

Lee’s breathing was harsh. Clearly it had taken a lot out of him. I couldn’t stop crying, the tears dribbling down my cheeks, cold in the wind. Al let go of my jaw, and I curled into a ball in the rubble at his feet, uncaring of what might happen next. Oh God, my dad.

“She’s yours,” Lee said. “Take my mark off.”

I felt Al’s arms go around me, lifting me up. I couldn’t help but press into him. I was so cold, and he smelled like Old Spice. Though I knew it was Al’s twisted cruelty, I clutched at him and sobbed. I missed him. God, I missed him. “Rachel,” came my dad’s voice, pulled from my memory, and I cried all the harder. “Rachel,” it came again. “Is there nothing left?”

“Nothing,” I said around my sobbing breaths.

“Are you sure?” my dad said, gentle and caring. “You tried so hard, my little witch. You really fought him with everything and failed?”

“I failed,” I said between my sobs. “I want to go home.”

“Shhhh,” he soothed, his hand cool against me in my darkness. “I’ll get you home and put you to bed.”

I felt Al shift into motion. I was broken, but I wasn’t done. My mind rebelled, wanting to sink deeper into nothingness, but my will survived. It was either Lee or me, and I wanted my cup of cocoa on Ivy’s couch and a theme book of rationalizations.

“Al,” I whispered. “Lee should be dead.” It was easier to breathe. The memory of my father’s death was slipping back into the hidden folds of my brain. They had been buried there so long that they found their places easily, one by one filed away for lonely nights by myself.

“Hush, Rachel,” Al said. “I see what you intended by letting Lee trounce you, but you can kindle demon magic fully. There has never been a witch that can do that.” He laughed, his glee chilling me. “And you’re mine. Not Newt’s, not anyone else’s but mine.”

“What about my demon mark?” Lee protested, several steps back, and I wanted to cry for him. He was so dead, and he didn’t know it yet.

“Lee can,” I whispered. I could see the sky. Blinking profusely, I saw a dark shadow of Al holding me silhouetted against the red-smeared clouds. Relief slipped into me, pushing out the last of my doubt to leave a shimmer of hope underneath. Ley line charms of illusion only worked short-term unless they were given a permanent place to reside in silver. “Taste him,” I said. “Taste his blood. Trent’s father fixed him, too. He can kindle demon magic.”

Al jerked to a stop. “Bless me thrice. There are two of you?”