The thing was feeding. Feeding on him. On his death.
I thought I might be sick.
A circle of dirt surrounded him, glowing faintly, as if it was keeping him trapped while the life drained out of him.
But the worst part—the part that made me want to look away and never stop looking at the same time—was his left hand. Someone had painted symbols on his palm in what looked like his own blood. Geometric markings, intricate and deliberate. The same layered lines and curves as Samarek’s mark on the door.
He’d been marked. Claimed.
Used.
Mom’s phone buzzed, and I jumped so hard I nearly screamed. She glanced at it, her face going pale as she tapped out a reply. “Trevor broke away from the group twenty minutes ago. They’ve been searching.” She looked at the body. “They’re too late.”
Twenty minutes. He’d been alive just twenty minutes ago. Walking around. Breathing. And now?—
I sucked in air and forced myself to keep my shit together by squeezing Jared’s hand so hard it’s a wonder I didn’t crush his bones.
Trevor. Lying there like a sacrifice.
Because that’s exactly what he was.“The blood of an innocent,”I murmured.
Dad moved first, stepping carefully around the dirt circle and the glowing edge of the portal, his face a mask I recognized. A Hunter’s face. The one that let you function when everything inside you was screaming.
“Eric,” Mom whispered. “Be careful.”
He didn’t answer. Just knelt beside Trevor’s body and pressed his fingers to Trevor’s neck. Checking for a pulse we all knew wouldn’t be there.
“No pulse,” he said flatly. “But he’s still warm. This just happened. Minutes ago, maybe.”
Minutes. We’d missed him by minutes.
“The blood’s still flowing,” Jared said quietly. “The portal’s still feeding.”
I made myself step closer. Made myself really look at Trevor’s face, even though every instinct screamed at me to turn away. There was something in his expression that looked almost like surprise. Whatever he’d thought was going to happen down here, dying hadn’t been part of the plan.
I looked at the symbols on his left palm. “Those markings... Did he draw them? Or did someone put them on him? Did he come down here willingly?”
“It fits.” Mom’s voice was hollow, and I could hear her own struggle to stay in Hunter mode. “He broke away from the group tonight despite knowing we were facing a real threat. And his attitude... We may never know.”
“What if he was working with someone?” I asked. “What if he thought he was getting something out of this?”
“And when he’d served his purpose...” Dad didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.
I shuddered, then leaned against Jared as his arm tightened protectively around me. I’d seen death before. I’d caused death before—demon death, sure, but I’d felt bodies go limp under my hands, watched the light leave eyes that had once been human before something else moved in. I’d faced down Hell itself and walked away.
But this was different.
Trevor was seventeen. Same as me. He’d arrived three weeks ago with anger radiating off him like heat, and I’d been so wrapped up in my own problems—the prophecy, Samarek, my complicated family—that I hadn’t even tried to see past his hostility to whatever was underneath. I’d written him off as difficult, and someone had used that. Used the fact that none of us had really seen him.
Now I’d never get the chance to know him. Never get to find out what he was so angry about, or what he might have become if someone had just bothered to reach past his walls.
“Allie.” Jared’s voice was soft. His hand rested on my shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was,” I said. “At least a little. But I’ll be okay,” I said. Because I had to be. Because that’s part of who I was now. The girl who kept going. The girl who didn’t get to fall apart until the job was done.
I sucked in a breath and looked between the three of them. “Something’s still wrong,” I said. “How did whoever did this know the portal was here? I mean, someone had to lure him down here. Had to cut him. It wasn’t Samarek. He’s still bound.
Mom and Dad exchanged a look. “Still bound? Are you sure?”
