His head felt like dead weight on my shoulder. It felt awkward to sit and wait for him to recover, but I couldn’t just leave him down here alone, either. My neck was warm and wet, my boney bottom beginning to hurt from sitting in one spot. Maybe this was why Jember had always threatened me with pillows. Crying took a long time. But I had never lost someone I loved. Who was I to rush his mourning?

But maybe I’d need to, because I heard rushed footsteps coming down the hall, and suddenly my adrenaline was running, my instincts knowing they meant me no good.

And a moment later Jember stormed in, looking ready to kill, with Saba’s expression full of panic as she followed.

I should’ve been on my feet immediately, reaching for my knife, but Magnus was leaning heavily on my shoulders.

“Why is the fireplace bleeding?” Jember said, shrugging off Saba’s comforting hand.

It never occurred to me that multiple rooms could bleed at once, that maybe the Evil Eye really only did it to show off its latest kill. But this was what I deserved for not telling Jember sooner. Because I was the next target, he had to construct the amulet, and that wasn’t something I could tell him minutes before—his mind and fingers needed to be rested enough for it.

But that wouldn’t stop him from knocking me unconscious beforehand.

I tapped Magnus’s knee frantically to make him get up, but instead he hugged me protectively, as if that would ever do any good. I was blocked in, front and back, and my heart began to pound for a way out.

“The hyena is being released again tonight,” Jember said, rounding the hopsicar. “Who’s the target, Andi?”

“Stay away from her,” Magnus commanded, “or I’ll—”

Between the hopsicar and the sweet boy at my back, the latter was arguably the easier obstacle to get through, and Jember grabbed him by the back of the collar and yanked him backward. And, God forgive me, I used those couple seconds to escape on top of the instrument. Magnus yelped and fussed as his back slammed on the floor and Saba rushed to his side.

Jember slammed his hands down, raising a muted scream of dissonance from the instrument. “Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

What I’d initially thought was anger I now recognized as more. Something like panic. Fear. It shook my resolve a little.

“Jember,” I said, slowly reaching for my knife, “calm down—”

He shoved the instrument and I lost my footing, tumbling off. I caught myself—just barely, my hip would definitely bruise—and got back on my feet quickly, knife at the ready.

We both knew I was never going to use it, and so he had no problem storming toward me. I backed away just as quickly.

“Did you make eye contact?”