He bellows in response, a primal sound from deep inside him that has me yanking on the ties around my wrists as hard as I can. It hurts—ohmygod does it hurt—but the pain doesn’t matter. Nothing matters right now but stopping Lia and getting to Jaxon.

This time the whole wall shudders under the force of Jaxon’s power. I’m facing away from the door, but I can hear the grinding of stones being pulled loose and the crash of them as they hit the floor. He’s close now, so close, and everything inside me strains toward him and away from Lia’s madness.

I can’t believe I let Flint get inside my head, can’t believe I thought even for a second that Lia and Jaxon were working together. And I definitely can’t believe I ran from the only boy I’ve ever loved. Jaxon would never be involved in something like this. Especially if that something aimed to hurt me. I know that now.

Plus, how could I forget just how much Lia hates Jaxon? No way would she bring him in to her own personal Project Lazarus.

I really am a fool. And it’s going to be the death of me.

Lia’s chant grows louder, echoing throughout the cavernous room as she grabs a long, ceremonial knife from inside the lectern. I watch in horror as she slices open her wrist and lets her blood drip onto the altar.

It sizzles as it hits the stone, where it turns into a noxious black smoke. The wind picks up, starts churning the smoke into a kind of mini-tornado that has me pulling against my bindings as hard as I can even as I scream for Jaxon.

I’m beginning to think there just might be something to this raising Hudson from the dead thing. And if there is, I want absolutely no freaking part of it. I sure as hell don’t want to be the catalyst that brings everything together.

Lia obviously has other plans, though, because she walks toward me with the knife. Her blood is still gleaming on the blade and I have an oh God, please let her clean it off before she touches me with it moment. Which seems absurd considering: One, shouldn’t I be praying that she doesn’t come near me with it at all? And two, what does it matter when I’m already covered in her blood, my blood, and some stranger’s blood? What’s a little more at this point?

Still I shrink back, pulling my legs up and trying to curl into a ball as best I can. It’s not much protection—or really any protection—but it’s all I’ve got until Jaxon manages to break through the ancient safeguards.

I expect Lia to start hacking at me with the knife as soon as she gets to me, but instead, she stands above me—arms spread wide and knife pointed directly at my midsection.

Not cut, then. Stabbed. Awesome.

I brace myself for more pain, but the knife never descends. Instead, the black smoke surrounds us, winding itself tighter and tighter as the breeze picks up and Lia finally stops chanting.

“Open your mouth!” she screams at me as the smoke centers itself directly above me.

No freaking way. She can kill me if she wants to—in fact, at this point she can feel free to do just that—because there is no way I’m opening up and sucking some noxious and terrifying smoke into me that may or may not be Jaxon’s dead brother. Not going to happen.

“Grace!” Jaxon yells from the other side of the door. “Grace, are you okay? Hold on! Hold on for me just a little longer.”

I don’t answer him—doing so would require opening my mouth, and right now I’ve got my face pressed into my arm and my jaw clenched as tightly as I possibly can. No way is this going down the way Lia seems to think it will.

“Do it, or I’ll kill you!” Lia screeches. “Right here, right now.”

Like that’s going to scare me? I resigned myself to death a while ago, so the threat of dying doesn’t hold much weight at the moment—especially since I know she’ll kill me once she gets what she wants anyway. So why on earth should I give it to her? Especially when it involves me turning into some kind of bizarre host for an ancient vampiric ritual?

Lia abandons the threats and throws herself on top of me as she tries to pry my mouth open with her fingers.

Don’t let her do it, the voice inside me warns. Hold the course.

I kind of want to answer it with a resounding no shit, Sherlock, but I’m too busy trying to buck Lia off me.

It’s not working—big surprise considering she’s a pissed-off vampire with superhuman strength and I’m a human in really, really bad shape. That doesn’t mean I’m giving up, though, doesn’t mean—

A giant wrenching sound suddenly fills the air. Lia freezes on top of me as stones go flying in every direction. And in walks Jaxon.

“No!” Lia screams as she picks up one of the stones that landed near us and chucks it back at him as hard as she can. “You can’t be here! You’re not invited in!”

Jaxon deflects the rock with little more than a look. “No wall, no invitation needed.” And then he’s leaping across the room in a single bound. He lands next to us on the altar and rips Lia off me, sends her flying across the room.

She hits the wall with a crash but comes right back at him. Jaxon, in the meantime, whispers, “I’m sorry, Grace,” as he waves a hand over me. The bindings on my wrists simply fall away. Then he’s crouching down next to me, stroking a hand down my face. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not—” My voice breaks as relief sweeps through me. “It’s not your fault.”

His voice is bitter. “Whose fault is it, then?”

I start to answer, but—big surprise—Lia’s not going down without a fight. “Look out!” I scream as she hurtles across the stage straight at Jaxon. He waits for her to get close then uses her own momentum to send her flying off the altar and across the room.

She lands with a sickening crunch of bone, but that doesn’t keep her down, either. She staggers to her feet, holds her arms up, and starts that horrible chant again. The black smoke responds, circling Jaxon, circling me, cutting off our view of Lia and the rest of the room.

“What’s happening?” Jaxon demands.

I don’t answer him now that the smoke is right next to me again, too scared of opening my mouth to so much as make a sound.

Jaxon uses his powers to try to move the smoke away from us, but it must be the one thing in the universe not under his control. Because instead of clearing out, it winds itself more and more tightly around us, until I can barely see Jaxon, let alone the rest of the room.

Which, apparently, is Lia’s plan, because as soon as Jaxon turns his back in search of an escape, Lia is on him. She leaps onto his back with a primal kind of war cry and plunges the knife straight into Jaxon’s chest.

It’s my turn to scream—or as close to a scream as I can get with my jaw clamped shut. I try to get to him, but Jaxon throws a hand out, uses his telekinesis to keep me where I am. Then he reaches down and yanks the knife out of his chest.