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No.Not again. Owein would not let him get away. He wouldn’t be haunted by this manever again.

“Owein!” Hulda cried as he launched himself toward the hole. It was two stories up; below, Silas picked himself up off the street and limped away from the main road, toward tree cover.

Owein jumped. As he did, he pushed out his spell of restoring order. It seized every piece of rubble and began sucking it back into its rightful place, yanking brick and mortar from the ground upward. Creating uneven stepping-stones for Owein to pick his way down,quickly. He nearly tripped over his own feet when he did, and he landed hard on the ground, his ankle protesting. The building sealed up behind him, and ... and ...

He squeezed his eyes shut. Smelled rot on his hands.

Silas.

Owein ran for the trees.

Police whistles sounded outside. Hulda uncovered her head. Owein had sealed the wall.

Hulda bolted for Myra and grabbed her cold hand. Her friend’s broken chest barely moved.

In her peripheral vision, Hulda saw Fallon stand up and shake herself, but her focus remained on Myra, whose breaths were short and quick. “We’ll get you a healer. Blightree is here. He can help you.” Tears fogged her glasses.

Myra’s eyes shifted by minute degrees, like she was trying to find the source of Hulda’s voice. “T-Two souls, in there,” she whispered, pale lips barely able to form the words. Blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth. “One ... larger ... than the other—”

“Shhh.” Hulda looked for something to stanch the blood, but she knew it was no use. Only magic could heal this. Only Blightree could—

“Ne ... ver ... read ... such ... a strained ... and broken ... mind.” The last word was a soft exhale of breath. She didn’t take it back in.

“No, please.” Hulda held Myra’s cold fingers to her cheek. “Oh, Myra, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A brown hand reached forward and closed Myra’s eyes. Fallon had her dress in hand but hadn’t donned it yet. In the back of Hulda’s mind, she knew Fallon should dress quickly. The police would be here any moment. Yet she couldn’t find the words to say it.

Half a dozen tears ran down Hulda’s cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut. Squeezed Myra’s hand. It shouldn’t end like this. It couldn’t ... This couldn’t be real.

Stifling a sob, Hulda blinked and looked away from the morbid hole in her dear friend’s middle. When she did, she noticed something on the ground that stopped her cold. A syringe, and a vial containing silvery dregs from the laboratory in Ohio.

Both were empty.

Owein’s stomach seized.

He could just make out Silas’s dark coat ahead of him. He blinked sweat from his eyes. If he looked away, he would lose him. Oweincouldn’tlose him. He would catch up to Silas Hogwood and tear him apart. With his bare hands if he had to.

Bile pushed up his throat. He spat it out, never breaking focus. Nausea was a side effect of necromancy. Did Oliver Whittock have spells in his blood after all? Had the serum activated them? Had—

A sharp pain radiated through his thigh, from the place where Owein had stabbed the syringe. Not from the punctured skin, but the bone beneath. He faltered. Gritted his teeth and ran harder. Pain wasn’t a side effect of magic. He could push through pain—

His vision doubled. He blinked, nearly colliding with a tree. Searched for Silas—no, which way had he gone? This way? Or that—

Fire lanced through his chest, up his neck, and into his skull. Cold sweat broke out on his skin. His stomach knotted hard enough to pull him down; he stumbled, dropped to his knees, and vomited onto the ground.

No, no, no,he pleaded, then heaved again. His limbs started to shake, and his head ... something was splitting open his skull.

One spell. It was one new spell. His body shouldn’t be revolting like this.

But his body disagreed.

He threw up a third time, vaguely noting the taste of blood before the world went dark.

Chapter 16

August 14, 1848, Plymouth, Massachusetts

Three Years Ago