Finn bends down to my level, peeking up to see my face. His face is soft, kind, even. “You can’t truly mean that.”

My gaze is hard as polished steel where it meets his. “Do they not haunt you, too?”

He lets all the air out of his lungs and threads his arm through mine, pulling me upright and down the hall, away from the veil.

“Fine. We’ll find another way.”

I can’t stop crying. My eyes are so thick with tears I can barely see. There’s no way I would be able to walk if not for Finn’s steady steps and solid shoulders keeping me upright.

Echoing sobs threaten to escape my throat, but I swallow them down one by one just like I swallow the poisonous guilt.

I’m so stuck in my own head, I don’t see it until it’s too late—until the boy is standing right in front of us.

“Hey!” he shouts.

Finn curses and uses his power to send up a spray of dirt from the ground, concealing us effectively enough to run away.

A dagger zooms by my head and I trip, falling to my hands and knees. The sting is immediate as the skin breaks.

Finn hauls me to my feet just as the other boy rises and comes barreling at us.

It’s so dark in the catacombs, the only light a single flickering lantern and the eerie blue luminescence of the veil, it’s difficult to tell who is who.

I search desperately in the dark for the location of the two boys. If I could take hold of their bodies with my power, I could stop the fighting—suddenly someone lands a blow to my stomach, a fist right to my diaphragm.

I sputter for air as tears spring to my eyes.

Finn cries out and something wet splashes onto my shoes. Blood?

I reach out and take hold of one boy’s body, my magic roaring to life under the surface of my skin. He thrashes against me, attempting to use his own magic to break away, but my power holds.

Then the other boy takes a handful of my hair and yanks hard, jerking my head back. I cry out. In my distraction, I lose my grip on the second boy.

Finn shouts and punches the boy who grabbed me squarely in the face. He crumples as his nose breaks.

I’m panting, frantic and panicking.

I ball my hands into fists, ready to land another blow, magical or otherwise, when a brilliant white light pours out of the tunnel behind us.

I turn to face the source of the light and find two nuns: Sister Evangeline, who led us to the entrance of the catacombs, and another young woman, not in a full habit, but a shorter black dress and small white headscarf.

They wave their hands, and immediately our two attackers fall to the ground, unconscious.