Behind him stood Iris.

We faced each other across the driveway, the demon’s broken body between us. The Beneath collected him almost immediately. There was a sucking noise as shadows curled around him. The sickening stench of rot filled the air. His body twitched once, all Harrower now, no trace of humanity remaining. A gurgle escaped his open mouth. Then he was gone.

I studied Iris warily. At first glance, I almost didn’t recognize her. Her long black hair had gone silver, and instead of falling to her hips in thick waves, it lay lank and brittle against her. Her clothing was in rags. The sweater she wore—it may have been blue once, but had since faded to a pale shade closer to gray—was riddled with holes. The hem of her skirt was frayed, trailing threads. Her lips were dry and cracked, and there were scabs up and down her bare legs, some open, oozing. The triple knot still hung from her throat, and on her left thumb she wore Patrick Tigue’s silver ring. In her sunken face, her eyes were once more St. Croix gold, not the blank white of the last time I’d seen her. She was smiling broadly.

I reached my hand into my pocket, touching my phone.

Iris saw the movement. “I’m not here to fight. No reinforcements necessary.” Her voice was hoarse, almost hissing. She kept her distance, lifting one hand and idly touching the triple knot. Her smile stayed wide, showing her teeth.

“So. Iris. Still crazy?” I gripped my phone, removing it from my pocket and holding it near me.

She tilted her head back slightly and laughed. An eerie, croaking sound that sent a shiver up me.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” I said. I fought the urge to retreat a step. “What is it you want?”

“To talk. We can do that, can’t we? Just a friendly little chat between cousins.”

“Our last one didn’t go so well,” I pointed out.

“I’ve learned a few things since then.”

“And forgotten about hygiene, apparently,” I said. I crossed my arms. “You’ve been sending demons after me. Not really the sort of gesture that says you want to kiss and make up.”

“You have your own personal bodyguard. I figured you’d survive. And, oh look, you did.”

“So, what happened? You decided the Beneath isn’t such a pleasant vacation spot?”

“Patrick saved me,” she whispered, her smile faltering and her eyes going vague.

“Yeah, you mentioned that before. And that was why the two of you went on your romantic yearlong murder spree. Next time you’re on the hunt for a boyfriend, maybe you should try one without scales.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Be careful with glass houses, Audrey. Yours is already showing cracks.”

Meaning my friendship with Gideon, I assumed. My own gaze narrowed. “Thanks to you.”

“We’re getting off track. What I meant was that Patrick saved me again.” She grazed a finger across the ring on her thumb, turning it slowly. “He wanted me to live. So I did. So I have.”

“And you just woke up one day and decided to come home?”

All trace of her smile vanished. “I was thinking I might like your mother dead.”

“Okay. We’re done here,” I said.

I unlocked my phone to call Leon, but Iris stopped me once more. “Wait.”

I shouldn’t have. I knew that. But I wanted to keep our conversation private as long as possible. “If you have a point, make it.”

She let out another short, croaking laugh. “You have a problem, Audrey.”

“I have a couple, and one of them is standing in front of me. Care to remove it?”

“Pay attention. This is important. It was you who began it. You have to be the one to end it.”

“If you want me to pay attention, try making sense,” I said.

“The Beneath, Audrey. Can’t you feel it?”

“Sorry. Unlike you, I’m not plugged in.”

“But you Know it,” she said. “You met it. I know you did. You must have sensed it when you were there. It must have spoken to you. It’s there, always, watching. You feel it in every Harrower who steps out into this world. Their corruption. The beast they carry. Patrick used to tell me about it. It tormented him. I tried to help, but he said he could feel it slipping through, whispering into his thoughts. But it was sleeping then. It was dormant. Whispering was all it could do.”

As she spoke, a memory stirred: the day we had fallen Beneath. I recalled a world made up of gray, the blank horizon, the colorless sand under my feet. For hours, I’d wandered aimless, alone. But not alone. Everywhere, the nothingness had seemed to breathe. Slowly, awareness had crept over me. I had sensed something there in the void, something cold and ancient that dwelled within the endless empty. Some presence slinking nearer, closing in, hungry, hating. With each step I took, I had felt its anger, its eager gaze. It had Known me. Known my blood. And it had spoken to me. It had told me—

You are going to die here.

The words resounded. Another voice echoed, a taunt that rang loud in my ears. It became a chant, repeating again and again. You are going to die, Kin-child.

My heart picked up speed. I stared at Iris. “What is it you’re trying to say?”

“We didn’t just wake Verrick that night on Harlow Tower. We woke the Beneath.”

The universe came to a sudden stop. For an instant, I didn’t breathe. Distantly, I was aware of the sun glaring down hot against my face, and the sweat beading on my forehead; I was aware of the staccato chug of a sprinkler system nearby, and the groan of an engine from down the block. But the details were mere information. They didn’t connect. I was back in Sonja’s house, feeling again that icy sense of dread that swept over me. I shivered beneath my sweat. I saw the smashed shards of the teacup, thin porcelain slivers painted lilac. In the corner: Sonja’s crumpled body, the twist of her neck. I saw Shane’s torn shirt, his unkempt hair. The bloody footprints and his bare feet. His blank, dead eyes as he looked at me. How he had smiled, showing red teeth.

“We woke the Beneath,” I repeated dully. “That’s what killed Sonja and the other elders. It wasn’t Shane.”

The Beneath.

Impossible, I wanted to say. But Iris was right. I had felt it. I had Known it, just as it had Known me.

We’ve met before, it had told me in Shane’s body, with Shane’s voice.

Iris tilted her head, her gray hair rustling against her. The triple knot swayed on its chain. “At the moment, it’s choosing to inhabit him,” she said. Her voice had lost some of its hoarseness, as though she was slowly remembering how to speak. “But it’s not going to stop with him, either. It’s gaining in power. Gathering strength.”

“And we woke it?” This was so far beyond my comprehension, I couldn’t even begin to process it. I just kept staring.

“You have to put it back to sleep,” Iris said.

“With what? A lullaby?”

Her eyes were hard. There was no smile on her face now. “Kill Gideon.”

“Right. You know, for a second there I forgot I was talking to a murdering psychopath. Thanks for the reminder.”

“You need to listen to me,” she said, almost hissing again. She took half a step toward me, and then seemed to think better of it. “Gideon is the problem, Audrey. He’s connected to the Astral Circle, just like you are. But he’s a Harrower. That means he’s also connected to the Beneath. When you released the Circle’s power, the Beneath woke up. And since then it’s been feeding. Drawing on the Circle’s energy. That power is what’s keeping it awake. Sever his connection to the Circle, and it goes back to sleep.”

“Why should I believe a word you’ve said? You don’t care about the Kin. You’ve been Beneath all this time, and now you just pop up out of nowhere and tell me to kill my best friend? For all I know, you’re still trying to get me to unseal him.”