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Just like Babette’s.

I stare at the marks as if through a tunnel, unable to understand. They feelwrongsomehow, aberrant, and even I can sense they shouldn’t be there. Vampires can die, yes—I just watched Michal kill three—but to drain one of its blood? How could such a thing happen? They’re too strong, too fast, toolethalto be hunted as they hunt others. A slick, slimy sensation unfurls in my stomach as I grasp at the only other explanation, the only possibility that still makes sense. Recoiling from Michal, I breathe, “You killed your own sister?” Then, to Mila, louder now— “Is that why you refused to see him? Hekilledyou? He drank your blood?”

“Don’t be disgusting.” Mila releases her collar to hide the offensive marks once more. “Vampires only drink from vampires inverynonfamilial situations—”

“You refused to see me?” Michal asks in a quiet voice. He sounds almosthurt.

“But he stillkilledyou, right?” I ask over him.

She waves a curt, impatient hand at both of us. “Itoldyou, Célie—my brother didn’t kill those creatures, and he didn’t kill me either.” Her lips purse, and she glares once more at the stair tread, carefully avoiding Michal’s gaze. “But I also can’t tell you who did.”

Michal instantly closes the distance between them. “Why?”

“Because I don’t remember. My last memories—they’re just... gone.”

“Witchcraft,” Michal snarls.

And there it is. The final piece. His quest for vengeance at last clicks into place. Trying and failing to wrench my arm from hisgrasp, I settle for glaring up at him instead. “Coco didn’t kill those people. She loved Babette, and even if she hadn’t, a blood witch would neverdraina creature of its blood.” My eyes flick pointedly to Yannick, to Laurent. “Not like a vampire would.”

“A vampire,” he says, his voice dripping disdain, “would not have killed a member of the royal family.”

“How do you know? I overheard the celestials talking in Monsieur Marc’s—”

“Because Mila is notme.” He says the word through clenched teeth. “Everyone who gazed upon her loved her.”

I snort at him in disbelief—and pity. “You’re allowing your opinion of your sister to cloud your judgment. Even if the killer had no personal grudge against Mila, they would’ve known her death would affect you.” I turn apologetic eyes to Mila, who watches us with a peculiar expression. “You can’t remember your final moments, but perhaps someone else can remember theirs. Is Babette beyond the veil? Can you bring her to us?”

“Not every soul chooses to remain near the realm of the living, Célie.” For the first time since I’ve met her, something akin to regret shadows Mila’s beautiful features. “Most choose to go... on.”

“Oh.” For some inexplicable reason, the words feel like a blow to my chest. They shouldn’t. Of course they shouldn’t. The final resting place of spirits shouldn’tmatterright now—not with a bloodthirsty vampire currently holding my hand—yet I can’t help it.Pippa.Her name echoes through my mind like a phantom hand, as if she herself has reached through the veil to touch me.

But she didn’t.

And she won’t.

Because if anyone has ever been brave enough to go on, it would be my sister.

As if sensing my thoughts, Michal tightens his fingers around mine ever so slightly. “I would hazard a guess,” he says, voice low, “that Babette isn’t available for questioning in this realm or the next.” At my frown, he adds, “Two nights ago, her body vanished from the morgue.”

“What?” Mila and I gasp in unison.

Michal tilts his head, studying me with an unreadable expression. “She was Babette’s lover, you say?”

“Cocodidn’t do this,” I snap, losing patience entirely, but he doesn’t allow me to pull away.

“We’ll see.” He extends his free hand toward the door and motions for Mila to exit before him. “Come. We must discuss next steps, the three of us, and it should be done away from prying ears.”

Mila, however, doesn’t move.

“Michal,” she says softly.

Unlike his sister, Michal doesn’t bother with deflection. “Don’t do this, Mila.”

“You asked why I didn’t want to see you.” She draws closer, reaching out to touch her brother’s cheek. Whether or not he can feel her, I don’t know, but he braces in the doorway just the same, his hand tight and cold around mine. A tether.Or perhaps, I realize with an unpleasant start,I am his.

“You know better than this, Michal,” Mila says, her gaze uncharacteristically solemn. “I am dead.Trulydead this time, which means there’s nothing left for us to discuss. I’m not Guinevere; I refuse to haunt you, and no amount of vengeance willbring me back. Darkness stirs on the horizon, looming closer each moment, and this realm will need you—bothof you”—her eyes flick briefly to mine—“in order to survive it. You must let me go, brother. Please.”

“I willnot.” Eyes blazing brighter than I’ve ever seen them, he lifts our linked hands, and her hand passes straight through his face. “Because Ihavebrought you back—twice now—and I have no intention of losing you again. Iwill notlose you again.”