THE BACK WALL of the cell was cold and filled Fiona with a chill that pocked her skin with goose bumps. Despite the cold, she did not move. She didn’t have the energy and the cool stone helped reduce her rising body temperature. The hyperglycemia, now unchecked, exaggerated the effects of the second threat to her life—dehydration.

Her throat stung to the point where every swallow was agony. As there was no saliva in her mouth to swallow, she tried her hardest to avoid the natural reflex. Her lips were swollen and cracking. Her dry skin felt like old fabric, and the itch was maddening. But most disturbing to Fiona were the changes going on inside her body.

Her heart occasionally palpitated. She pictured it struggling to pump sludge through her body. Her breath seemed to never fully appease her body’s need for oxygen. She figured her drying lungs couldn’t absorb as much. And her stomach … Despite being empty she felt a rising urge to vomit. She expected she would only dry heave, but dreaded the pain it would bring her contracting throat and cracked lips.

She closed her eyes, fought off a wave of nausea, and focused on what she’d learned in the hours since the woman had been shot. There were now four men in the space beyond her cell. Alpha, Adam, Cainan, and Mahaleel. Based on their conversations, it was Cainan who had brought her here. And it was Adam’s wet voice she’d heard earlier speaking in uncanny unison with Alpha.

They had discussions about genetics, of which she only understood bits and pieces. They spoke of ancient languages and the power they contained. The powers of creation. The future world remade.

She had listened to Alpha instruct the others on how to use the ancient tongue. She heard countless phrases, and tried to remember what she was hearing, but it wasn’t possible. So she focused on the one she thought would be most useful, the one spoken casually by all when the services of the conjured stone monsters were no longer needed.

But her body was failing and unless she could call forth a spring from the stone, she would soon die. But that was just as well. If she were dead they couldn’t experiment on her. They couldn’t control her. They couldn’t have her kill her father. Death was preferable, so she laid back, closed her eyes, and accepted it.

Darkness closed in around her vision. A faint ringing grew louder, then faded. She felt each beat of her heart, slowing. In the absolute darkness that followed, she heard a voice.

The voice of the devil.

Calling her back.