But he had to look. He had to know.
He crossed to the giant, ornate mirror, and winced when he met his reflection. The black veins stretched halfway up his neck, more prominent than ever. He stared, horrified, his unsteady fingers tracing the shadowed tendrils to where they disappeared beneath his collar.
With clumsy movements, he unfastened the top three buttons of his shirt, revealing a tangled web of inky black clustered around his heart.
“I told you I’m dying,” August said grimly. So much for making it to summer. He’d be lucky to make it another month.
Lottie had no reply. She knew he was right.
His gaze moved past his own reflection to the empty spot over his shoulder.
“We’ll fix this,” she told him. “You’re not going to die. I won’t allow it. Do you understand?”
He turned to face her, and nodded.
Despite being younger (if twenty minutes could really count as younger), Lottie had spent her whole life protecting him. She stood up to their mother, snapped back at tutors. She was his shield.
But as much as Lottie wanted to believe she could protect him like she always had, he knew she couldn’t anymore.
Her eyes widened and jumped to the front door. “Someone’s here.”
“I know,” he muttered, glowering at the sofa. “Scared the hells out of me.”
“No, not an anchored.”
His entire body tensed. “What?” That wasn’t possible. The cottage was a three-hour walk from Bedwyck, hidden by miles of woods. Who would be way out here?
“Grab the blade,” she whispered.
August dropped to snatch the dagger from beneath the sofa, and Lottie was gone by the time he scrambled back to his feet. He slipped quickly into the cottage’s single bedroom, flattened himself against the rough stone wall beside the door, and waited.
Quiet, punctuated by the persistent owl and a chorus of crickets. A breeze whistled through the cracks, and a tree branch scraped gently against the window.
Still, nothing.
Maybe she was wrong.
Something slammed against the front door. Holding his breath, he strained to hear if it opened. Had he even locked it?
Lottie was in front of him a moment later. “You need to run, Auggie. Now!”
The look she gave was heavy enough to crush him.
Felix.
How did he find him? August had escaped through the Hollow Dark. There was no way he could’ve followed.
But there it was—the clank of metal against the wooden floorboards.
“Open the veil,” she whispered.
“You told me not to.”
“Well, now I’m telling you to open it.”
August flexed his fingers and closed his eyes, reaching desperately for his power.
Nothing.
