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He crosses his arms over his chest. As he does, he exposes a silver silk bracelet on his right wrist. The charmed gift from his patron god.

“Because I’ve missed you, obviously,” he says without skipping a beat.

A lie, of course, from a professional. I clench my fists.

“Nice to see you, too,” I say. “Now, move.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Étienne replies. But behind his mock regret is a challenge. “Patron god’s orders, and all that. You understand.”

Behind him, the man is still frozen in an image of fear. I take another step closer to Étienne. The ring on my finger tingles in warning.

“His time was up long ago,” I say. “Tell your god to find a new favorite mortal.”

Étienne casts me an amused look. “I didn’t think you were in the habit of dismissing gods so easily.”

“He’s not my patron,” I say stiffly.

“Of course not,” Étienne agrees, his smile taunting. “You’re Raven’s girl.”

Instead of answering, my eyes return to the man on the floor, still locked in time. I lunge for him.

Étienne sweeps a hand nonchalantly through the air. And all of a sudden, the world shifts. The car’s floor becomes glass, the lights flicker—and a wall of curved mirrors springs up around us, encasing us in a thousand disorienting reflections.

Raven gave me the ability to claim the energy of souls. Thorn gave Étienne the power to create illusions.

In spite of everything, a shiver of admiration dances up my spine at the strength of these illusions and the speed at which he can create them. I push against a mirror, staring back at myself instead of the man on the other side. Beside me, a reflection of Étienne grins, then steps out of the way when I turn on him. I whirl, trying to pinpoint the real version, but all I see is a mirage of dozens of Étiennes, each giving me that infuriatingly smug look.

I know, technically, that these reflections are false images, not the living version of him. But they are convincing enough that my mind struggles to break free of them. What we call reality, after all, is a controlled hallucination that our brain agrees to accept. So long as he weaves an illusion that can convince me of that hallucination, it will hold.

The dozens of Étiennes chuckle at me. “Not quite Regent material, are you?” they say.

“Asshole,” I mutter back.

The reflections just shrug in unison. “Trust me, you don’t want to be a Regent anyway.”

Then I catch a glimmer of something out of the corner of my eye. It’s him, the real him, moving behind me and toward where the man must still be lying on the floor.

I turn around to see him in the flesh. The glimpse is enough to break the illusion, convincing my brain at last that the rest are mere reflections.

And in a split second, every single mirror shatters at the same time, revealing once again the train car all around us.

Without wasting another second, I dart at Étienne.

He dodges sideways, barely avoiding my grip. If I can just grab him, I can weaken him, siphon his energy and soul until he buckles. But time is running out—should he help my target escape again before I can get to him, I’ll have lost my window.

Étienne laughs a little, then snaps his fingers.

The view outside the train’s windows turns completely black. All the lights in the car start to flicker—and suddenly, everything around me seems to be under a strobe, my own limbs jerking as if in a stop-motion film.

I blink, fighting against the urge to squeeze my eyes shut. It gives Étienne the briefest moment to rush at me. His leg tucks around mine—and in one move, he trips me.

I fall hard onto my back. All the air rushes out of my chest. My eyes widen as I gasp, unable to say a word. Phrenospasm. A blow to my solar plexus. I pull my knees toward my chest in an attempt to help the spasm subside, but he crouches down beside me and pins down one of my arms. There, he weaves another illusion—a heavy metal chain around my wrist, fused to the floor.

He winks at me, his face so close to mine that strands of his hair brush my cheeks.

“Good try,” he says.

I struggle against the false bond as he turns toward the man. It isn’t real, I scream to myself as I stare at the metal chain. This is nothing more than an apparition. My vision has no external stimuli. Come on! You know it isn’t real!