It worked sans crying, because after a moment Saba’s hold relaxed slightly, her hug feeling more natural around my neck. The room was quiet except for the moaning spirits and howling wind outside, except for the snap and crack of the fireplace, except for my own heart pounding in my ear. My own heart, I realized … just mine. No counter or synced rhythm from the chest I was leaning against. Still. Nothing.

And suddenly I could no longer relax.

Saba felt me tense and tightened her grip, but I didn’t fight back this time, my brain working through too many thoughts.

She wasn’t acknowledged as a servant by anyone in the house but Magnus … by anyone but the Evil Eye’s host. And she wasn’t affected by the cold. Literally heartless. It all made sense. Well it did, but didn’t.

Saba was, in some way, a result of the Evil Eye. Despite having no traits of a Manifestation, her survival depended on the curse. And so there was no way she was going to let me cleanse it without a fight.

Magnus had told me not to get too attached to her, but I’d never expected this to be the reason.

“Whatever you are,” I said, and felt her jolt, “whatever you had been, please know I feel deep compassion for you. But I have to end this. Too many people have disappeared, and it needs to stop. Let me go, Saba. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Saba’s response was to tighten her grip like an iron clamp.

My stomach turned. I’d fought plenty of times on the street—for food, for my life, for ideal shelter. I had the scars to prove it. But to hurt a friend …

Just do it quick, Andi.

I snatched Saba’s forearm with one hand, digging my fingers in and reaching for my knife with the other just as I kicked her in the shin. Saba stumbled back a few steps, and I heard the shinkt of a breaking plate, a sharp, warm pain rising up my fingers that the rest of the cold house might’ve numbed. But I ignored the pain and focused on my knife, pointing it toward Saba and her missing—

My blood felt cold.

… her missing …

I turned to my shoulder slowly, where I still held Saba’s arm, despite the fact her body was five feet away. Where my sliced fingers had gone through the top of her arm, through the hollow middle, and rested on the bottom, my blood dripping off the end of the shattered appendage.

I looked quickly up to Saba, as she stood still, her right arm missing and hollow at the forearm, making her look like a beautiful, sad porcelain doll.

A distant scream echoed up the stairs. Oh God. Tom.