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Gabriel twisted the key in his ignition. He didn’t know what was happening, if Iris had lied to him about her father, or if she had been misinformed about his death. None of that mattered now. All that mattered was getting her to safety.

But just as the engine roared back to life, Iris let out a muffled scream against her hands. Her father was no longer standing on the sidewalk. He sat in the center of the backseat, leaning forward with his arms outstretched as though to embrace his daughter after his long absence.

“My dear girl, it’s been so long.”

Not bothering to turn off the car, Gabriel threw open his door and wrenched Iris across the driver’s seat and onto the road. Her arm still wrapped in his tight grip, Gabriel tugged her across the street until they reached the front door of the apothecary, where the rich melody of two violins licked the sun-soaked air. Gabriel recognized the song instinctively. It was “The Secret History” by the Chamber Orchestra of London, a composition he often listened to while cooking dinner.

Gabriel twisted the doorknob. Locked.

“Blair! Open the door! Hurry!” He threw a glance over his shoulder and saw Iris’ father gaining on them. Gabriel pulled Iris tight to his chest so that she was in between him and the door. If he had something of her father’s, he could have connected to his energy in order to magically fend him off. As it was, this was Gabriel’s only way to protect her.

The sound of the violins cut off abruptly, and a moment later, the door opened.

But it wasn’t Blair who stood before them. Instead, there was a woman, her aura the deep burgundy of bloodshed, of souls lost, of poisoned ruby lips and daggers that have hit their mark.

“Well, well,” she said, sliding her tongue across the top row of her straight white teeth. “Gabriel Clark, as I live and breathe.”

Gabriel’s arms wrapped protectively around Iris, trying to shield her from the evil on either side of the door. His words came out in a strangled hiss. “You’ve lived and breathed for far too long.”

Her answering smile was razor sharp, a hungry lioness ready to sink her teeth into her hapless prey. “Well,” she said, a seductive purr in her voice, “whose fault would that be?”

A voice sounded behind them. “Iris, my love, look at me.”

Iris and Gabriel both turned to find her father standing immobile on the otherwise empty sidewalk.

A second later, he let out a wail of agony as the flesh began to melt off his bones.

Iris gave a strangled scream, pressing her face against Gabriel’s chest. He watched in horror as acrid smoke coiled up in a twisted similitude of the steam from their teapot, as her father’s skin pooled like wax at their feet, leaving nothing behind but charred bone.

“Stop!” Gabriel cried, reaching out to grip the woman’s arm. The moment his skin touched hers, their energies sparked, and Gabriel sensed her magic falter, then slip. The projection of what was left of Iris’ father flickered for a moment like a television station with a poor signal, before vanishing completely.

“What’s going on? Iris?” Blair appeared behind the woman’s shoulder and pushed past her, folding Iris into his arms as Gabriel released his protective hold on her.

Sidestepping them, Gabriel forced the imposter backward into the shop and slammed the door behind him, blocking Iris and Blair outside as he forced the deadbolt into place. He stepped forward until he had the woman backed against a wooden shelf, which wobbled precariously, a couple of pens clattering to the floor.

“Anna, is it?” Gabriel’s eyes ran down the length of the woman’s dark hair, her tan skin, eyes the color of bleached coal. Her smile was sharper than glass, far deadlier than silica. “An impressive glamour. Your blemished soul is far more difficult to hide.”

“You wouldn’t want me to reveal my true appearance, would you, Gabriel? Your friend out there might not like it if he were to discover my identity.” She trailed her fingers lightly over Gabriel’s leather jacket. “How would he feel to learn the part you played in the death of his beloved sister?”

Gabriel may have let her manipulate him before, but those days were long in the grave.

His eyes darted around the room, skirting over the cardboard boxes overflowing with bottles and jars, the rustic shelves that lined the walls. A small brass bell sat on a paint-spattered step ladder, while a potted plant perched precariously on its second rung. His gaze landed on Blair’s black violin, which sat abandoned on a chair in the corner beside a second chair with a maple violin, the music stand between them askew.

Gabriel reached roughly for the witch’s hand, crushing it in his own. “Where do you have it?” he demanded.

She tried to hide her small gasp at the strength of his grip. “Have what, Mr. Clark?”

Thrusting her hand back at her like a grenade, Gabriel moved to Blair’s violin. He touched the smooth surface, connecting to his friend’s spirit. Blair’s energy pulsed in two opposite directions. The strongest pull was directed toward Blair himself standing just outside the door, but a thinner, lighter trail led to⁠—

Gabriel pushed past piles of boxes, knocking one to the ground in his haste. The clangor of shattering glass split the air as he entered the back supply room. A cloth handbag was slung over a nail on the wall. Gabriel ripped it open, feeling a jolt of savage pleasure as the threads snapped, glass buttons tinkling like ice cubes as they met the floor. He fished around until he found a coin purse, which he opened with nimble fingers, removing the silver ring from within.

A smile tugged at the corners of Obedience’s lips as she came to stand against the freshly painted doorframe. “Aren’t you clever.” She spoke with the air of a professor complimenting her star pupil.

“What do you want with him?” Gabriel strode over to her and gripped her shoulders, slamming her against the wall. He could hear someone knocking on the front door. He ignored it, and so did his quarry.

She shrugged, utterly unbothered.

“I swear to God, Obedience, if you do anything to⁠—”