They cut and stab at the creature, but their blades only make it angry, and the angrier it gets, the more damage it does, knocking into shelves and the concrete columns. Jars crash to the ground, choking the air with formaldehyde and dust.

“This isn’t working, Shy!” Natalie says, and my stomach knots painfully, but I don’t have time to comprehend what’s happening here, because the creature’s tentacles flail, and I have to duck to keep from being flung across the room. Thane’s in front of me again, pulling my arm.

“We have to get out of here!”

“Look out!” I push him forward and fall with him, landing as one of the creature’s tentacles rushes over us and crashes into a column. There’s a cracking sound as it comes loose from its place and falls toward us. Thane and I scramble to our feet and away, finding ourselves closer to the fight than we wanted to be.

“Jacobi!” Shy’s voice is harsh as Jacobi propels from his position on the floor. Scythe in hand, he cuts a blow across the creature’s tooth-filled face. Its scream grows louder, and one of its tentacles lifts, smacking into Jacobi and sending him flying against the wall. Shy twists, searching, until his eyes meet mine.

And something in my chest pulls so tight, I lose my ability to breathe.

I know him.

And not in the way I’ve gotten to know him the last week. This is different, deeper. It goes beyond his skin and blood and bones. It’s like my dreams.

I know his soul.

The knowledge shivers through me, and my mind strains to place him. I chase tendrils of memories, but they slip from my grasp, teasing, playful, brutal—and they smell like smoke and jasmine.

What did that witch do to me?

Shy’s harsh voice brings me back to the present. “Get her out of here! She’s making it stronger!”

“Shy!” Natalie warns, but it’s too late. He goes flying, his body flipping unnaturally as he lands in a pile of his own feathers. I don’t go to him, and I don’t run away. I stand, rooted to the spot. Anger, white and hot, washes over me, burning my eyes and skin. I want to smash this thing to pieces for giving me hope, for lifting me from darkness just to crush me.

I want to kill it.

And the thread responds, rising to fit my palm like the hilt of a blade. I don’t know what it does to creatures like this, but I unleash it anyway. It twirls through the air, lancing the creature, looping throughout its limbs. It writhes, jerking and hissing, its body splitting so that light pours through cracks in its shadow skin.