“It’s folly to confront him without a plan,” I said. “We need to consider every angle. What if stopping him here creates something even more terrible?”
She fell silent. When she finally spoke again, her voice was flat. Dangerous. “You don’t want me to stop him.”
“That’s not?—”
“You’re sabotaging me.” Fire leapt in her eyes. “You want to trap me here so I can’t go home.”
The accusation hit like a fist in my gut. “We’re trying to keep you safe?—”
“I don’t need you to keep me safe!” Scales spread down her arms. Her voice rose. “I can save everyone. Don’t you understand? If I stop Mullo now, the Curse never happens. All those females live. Our entire species survives!”
“We know that,” Albie said. “But?—”
“But nothing!” She cast a wild look between us. “I finally have a chance to fix everything, and you’re stopping me because you’re afraid I’ll leave you.”
Heads turned on the wharf. Demons looked in our direction.
“Keep your voice down,” I said through gritted teeth.
“You only care about yourselves,” she said. “You don’t want an equal partner. You want to chain me to your sides.” Her eyes blazed. “Well, I don’t care what happens to me! I don’t care if I die stopping Mullo. At least I’ll die knowing I saved my people!”
Albie reached for her. “Portia?—”
“No!” She stumbled back. “I hate you! I hate that you’re keeping me from doing what I’m supposed to do!”
More demons turned to stare. A pair started toward us.
“You’re trying to control me,” she said, her rising voice drawing more stares. “Just like everyone else. Just like my fathers. You want to cage me and keep me safe. But this is more important than any of us. The Curse?—”
“Your recklessness is a curse,” I snapped.
The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I’d made a mistake.
Portia looked like I’d slapped her. Like she’d seen a ghost.
Then she turned and ran.
“Portia!” I lunged after her. Albie blurred, appearing in front of her with his arms flung wide like he meant to catch her.
She staggered to a stop. Chest heaving, she shifted—or tried to. Her body flickered, smoke swirling around her before she turned solid again. The shift was all wrong. Smoke twisted around her again, the flow unstable and chaotic.
And then I saw it.
Plum-colored velvet peeking from the top of her dress.
The chronomancer’s bag. She still had it.
“No!” I shouted, putting on a burst of speed.
The air around her warped. The wharf and the scenery behind her twisted. Colors bled and ran together.
Albie and I reached for her at the same time.
Our hands passed through empty air where her shoulders should have been.
The world twisted.
And Portia was gone.
