Ramona said her goodbyes and hung up, only to meet Zara’s raised eyebrows.
“We need to work on you maintaining boundaries,” Zara said with a deep sigh. “That was honestly shocking in how quickly she was able to manipulate you into agreement.”
“She’s never met a hill she wouldn’t die on,” Ramona said, rolling her eyes. “It’s like she’s always had a way of dominating everything around her. It’s probably why she’s such a good curse-breaker.” She paused, then pointed at Zara. “But we’re not asking for her help. Yet. We can figure this out ourselves.”
Zara blinked, silent for a moment as though trying to come up with a cautious way to respond. “Well, I’m excited to meet such a master manipulator in the flesh. Maybe I’ll find some new inspiration.”
“You’re not going to, like, steal her soul, right?” Ramona asked, flopping back down against her pillows. “Or Bradford’s?”
“Honestly, any man who goes by the entirety of Bradford is kind of asking for his soul to be stolen, but no, I do not intend to do any physical work on this trip,” Zara said.
Ramona buried her smile in the pillow. “Will you turn out the light, please?” She watched as Zara flicked her wrist and the lights went out. “Don’t stay up too late with thatrivetingdissertation.”
Zara made a dismissive hum of non-agreement, and Ramona closed her eyes.
She hadno idea how long she’d been sleeping when the screaming fox woke her up.
No, it wasn’t the fox. Something closer. Something wrong. It wasZara.
Her eyes snapped open in the darkness, heart already racing. The sound was coming from across the room — raw, anguished, a sound she’d never heard a person make before.
Then the pain hit.
It slammed into her like a physical blow. Her chest seized, her lungs burned, every nerve in her body lit up with agony that wasn’t hers. The tether. She could feel it through the tether — Zara’s pain, Zara’s terror, flooding through the connection between them like poison in shared veins.
Ramona threw off the covers and stumbled across the room, nearly tripping over her own feet. In the chair, Zara was thrashing, caught in the grip of something Ramona couldn’t see. Her face was twisted, a sheen of sweat on her forehead catching the streetlight. Her hands gripped the armrests hard enough that the cheap plastic was cracking.
Another scream tore from her throat, and Ramona felt it — felt the echo of whatever was happening in that dream. Fire. Or something like it. Something worse.
“Zara.” Ramona dropped to her knees beside the chair, hands hovering uselessly. She didn’t know if touching would make it worse. “Zara, wake up.”
Nothing. Just another choked sound of pain.
Ramona grabbed her shoulders. “Zara!”
Zara’s eyes flew open — wild, unseeing, reflecting the dim light like an animal’s. For half a second, she didn’t seem to recognize where she was. Her hand shot out, fingers closing around Ramona’s wrist with enough force to bruise.
Then she focused. Saw Ramona. The grip loosened slightly but she didn’t let go.
“Ramona.” Her voice was hoarse, broken. She was breathing too fast, chest heaving like she’d been running. Or drowning.
“I’m here. You’re here. You’re safe.” Ramona kept her voice steady even though her own heart was hammering. The pain was already fading from the tether, but she could still feel the aftershocks of Zara’s panic, sharp and overwhelming.
Zara looked around the room like she was cataloging it. Her dark eyes flicked to the water-stained ceiling. The duct-taped bed frame. The grimoire on the nightstand.
“It was a dream,” Ramona said quietly. “Just a dream.”
“I know.” But Zara’s breathing hadn’t slowed. She was still holding Ramona’s wrist, fingers trembling slightly.
“Come here.” Ramona stood, tugging gently. “Come on. The bed is more comfortable than that terrible chair.”
For once, Zara didn’t argue. She let Ramona guide her to the bed, moving like she wasn’t quite back in her body yet. When she sat down on the edge, Ramona could see her hands were shaking.
“Lie down,” Ramona said. “I’ll get you some water?—”
Zara’s grip tightened on her wrist. Not painful, but insistent. Desperate. “Don’t.” The word came out rough. “Don’t leave. Please.”
Ramona’s chest constricted. She’d never heard Zara say please like that, like she was asking for something she needed but couldn’t name.
