“How long’s it been since this happened?” Nathanial asked, sounding more quizzical than concerned.

“Nearly two hours,” Bones said.

Logically, I knew he was right, but it felt like only minutes since we’d left the book depository. Emotions acted as their own sort of time machine, slowing it down or cranking it into fast-forward, depending on the circumstances.

“Why does that look like me?” Katie asked in a very calm tone.

I stifled my groan. I’d been so anxious about Denise that I hadn’t thought to shield her gaze. One day on the job and I was already a terrible mother, letting my child stare at a decapitated body.

“Um, I think we should go in the other room,” I began.

“She’s a shapeshifter,” Bones interrupted, answering the question instead of bothering about what Katie saw. Maybe it was because he was still drunk off demon blood.

When Katie continued to stare, Bones elaborated.

“Shapeshifters can transform into anything they see or imagine. Since people were after you, this one chose your form. That allowed Gorgon to take you away without their knowing that you’d left.”

“Why did this one help me?” she wondered.

I answered that, my voice resonant with emotion.

“Because she’s my friend, and she knew I didn’t want you to die.”

For the briefest moment, Katie’s facial mask cracked in a way I’d never seen before. Her mouth slowly curved into a tentative smile.

“Your deception was brilliant,” she said in her too-formal vernacular.

Terrible Mother Moment Number Two: I couldn’t bring myself to tell Katie that I hadn’t known about Denise’s switcheroo until the last few seconds before Thonos’s sword swung. Not only would I be admitting that I’d been unable to fulfill my promise to keep her safe only minutes after making it, but Katie had smiled at me. I’d lie my ass off to get another one of those.

“Thank you,” I said, fighting another urge to hug her.

All too quickly, her smile faded. “But now that it’s dead, you should take it away before it starts to smell.”

I winced, both at the cold reasoning and the fear that she might be right. Dear God, please let Denise come back from this! What she’d done went beyond friendship—and beyond bravery. I couldn’t stand that she might be gone forever from her selfless act. Even the thought made me want to weep over her remains until there was nothing left in me.

“Not ‘it,’ ” I said huskily. “She, Katie. She.”

We had a steep uphill battle to deprogram all of Madigan’s conscienceless training. Katie was seven, and her body count might be in the dozens, but somewhere inside that prematurely aged militant shell was a little girl. I just had to peel away the layers to find her.