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Watching the auburn-haired Virginie set down her scythe, leaving it right over a similarly shaped symbol on the outside ring of the concentric circles she’d drawn, Nick frowned, studying as many of those symbols as he could see.

He wished he knew what any of them meant.

He wasn’t a seer, but he swore he could feel something so rotten here, so completely dark, his chest had clenched painfully.

He watched the woman sit on the floor in the exact center of the chalk circle. He watched her place her bloody hands on the white shift at the knees, a nearly sensual smile on her lips. He had an urge to back out of the room.

He felt sick, just looking at those symbols.

Just looking at that empty face.

“There’s something deeply wrong here,” he said.

“It’s not real,” Kiko said.

She said it almost like she was trying to convince herself.

“Should we try to talk to her?” Dex asked. “You know. Like before. Downstairs.”

Nick felt the two humans looking at him, as if waiting for him to decide.

He strongly suspected they were both hoping Nick would say no.

As in, no, they damned well shouldn’t talk to the crazy psychopath with the blood covered scythe. From her facial expression, she’d probably be all too happy to tell them exactly what she’d been doing with that scythe in the other room.

“Where’s the husband?” Kiko asked, her voice a whisper.

Nick felt that sick feeling in his gut worsen.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to ease a step deeper into the room.

He moved along the floor carefully, in a near glide, like he was hoping no one would notice he was there, like he was hoping she might not hear him. It crossed his mind that he was afraid of her. Some part of him was afraid she was really real, that she wasn’t really a computer program at all.

Realizing how stupid he was being, he forced himself to straighten.

He cleared his throat. Loudly that time.

“Where’s your husband, Virginie?” he asked.

His voice sounded loud. Loud enough to make him wince.

“Where is he?” he repeated. “Is he here?”

The witch looked up.

Her smile slowly grew on that dead-looking face.

When she spoke, her voice came out bright. Absolutely nothing lived behind it. Nothing Nick recognized as being human at all.

“Why he’s downstairs, of course, silly! He is waiting for our son.”

Dex, Kiko, and Nick exchanged looks.

Nick looked back at her first.

“Your son?” Nick asked. “Who would that be?”

“Armel, of course.” The woman gave Nick another of those disturbing smiles. “He is back from fighting tonight. He promised to be here before we woke.”