I open my mouth, wanting to speak, but no words will come. So I switch my gaze to Roman, begging, pleading for him to step in and help me, but he just waves it away, his eyes signaling he’s finished with me. Now that he knows I’m not Drina, I’m on my own.

Left with no other choice, I raise my wrist, the one she’s gripping so hard it’s gone white and numb, and flip her around so suddenly, so unexpectedly, her back’s flush to my chest before she can fight it.

My lips tipped toward her ear when I say, “Sorry, but I just won’t tolerate that kind of talk.” Feeling her struggle against me, trying to break free, but it’s no use, no one beats the monster, no one but—

My gaze wanders to the gilt-framed mirror hanging before us, struck by our image—Haven’s hate-filled gaze a perfect match for my own—with my own face so angry, so distorted so—monstrous—I hardly recognize it. Finally able to see what they’ve seen all along, the complete degradation of what I’ve become.

My fingers loosen, just enough to allow her to break free. Spinning on me in a cloud of fury, fist held high, a map of all seven chakras held firmly in mind.

But before she can complete the swing, I’m gone. The excruciatingly loud crack of her back hitting the wall lingering behind as I push her off and flee for the street.

Assuring myself she’ll be fine, just fine, immortals always heal.

But no longer sure if I will.

twenty-one

When I reach the store, I expect to find Jude, but instead the door is locked and the sign flipped to closed. And after trying and failing to unlock it with my mind, I fumble through my bag, searching for the key with fingers so shaky, I end up dropping it twice before I finally get in. Whizzing past the bookshelves and CD racks so quickly, I forget about the fixture of angel figurines to my right and slam it so hard they crash to the ground in a pile of broken pieces and heavy shards of glass. But I don’t stop to fix it. Don’t even give it a second look. I just keep going, making my way into the back room and over to the desk where I pull out the chair and completely collapse.

Slumped over the desk, my forehead pressed to the wood, as I fight to steady my pulse and slow my breath. Horrified by my actions, by how low I’ve sunk. The scene from ten minutes ago repeating again and again in my head.

I stay like that for a while, until my skin starts to cool and my mind starts to clear, and when I finally lift my head and take a good look around, I notice the calendar’s been torn off the wall and propped up before me. Today’s date circled in red along with a question mark, my name underlined right beside it, and the words, Maybe this’ll work? written in Jude’s messy scrawl.

And just like that, I get it. The solution I’ve been waiting for is now, thanks to Jude, right within my reach. And it’s so unbelievably obvious I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before. Gaping at Jude’s sloppy circle, and the smaller, printed circle within it illustrating the moon and its phases. And the fact that this one is completely colored in signals that today, the moon is going dark.

Hecate is rising again.

And suddenly, I know exactly what to do.

Instead of waiting for the moon to go light and asking the goddess to cancel the queen like the twins had me do (which, by the way, probably only served to piss off the queen which is why it failed so miserably), I should’ve waited for today, for the moon to go dark again, so I could head right back to the source—pick up right where I started—with Hecate, ruler of the underworld—and forge an alliance with her.

I reach into the drawer, bypassing The Book of Shadows, and rummaging around for some of the supplies that I’ll need. Making a mental promise to make it up to Jude later, as I cram an assortment of crystals, herbs, and candles into my bag before slinging it over my shoulder and heading for the beach—the only place I can think of that’ll provide not only the privacy I seek but the body of water required for the ritual bath that I need.

And in no time at all I’m standing at the edge of the cliff, toes curled around the rock as I gaze out at an ocean so dark it blends with the sky. Recalling the same sort of night just one month before, when I came here with Damen, so sure I couldn’t possibly sink any lower than turning my best friend into an immortal, completely clueless to the fact that I was about to take it even further.

I make my way down the trail, anxious to begin. Carefully picking my way around jutting rocks and jagged turns, heart crashing hard against my chest as my body goes clammy with sweat, aware of that feeling rising inside me and knowing I need to get started before it takes over again. Feet carving deep into the sand as I make my way toward the cave, trusting it’ll be empty, just like we left it, knowing it’s just like Damen said: People rarely see what’s in front of them. And they certainly never see this.

I drop my bag to the ground and reach for a long taper and small box of matches, the swish and sizzle of the match striking the case the only accompaniment to the gently pounding waves. Securing the burning candle into the sand, I go about the business of arranging the rest of my tools on a blanket. Taking a moment to get it all organized before shedding my clothes and heading outside.

I wrap my arms tightly around me, bracing against the wind that pricks at my skin, and attempting to warm it away. Determined to ignore the protruding stack of ribs that poke at my fingers, the way my hip bones jut out in front of me, telling myself it’s all over now, the cure is near, no one, not even the monster, can stop me from recovering.