The geminus halted its advance. Its mouth twisted. “You made a bargain, and you will honor that bargain.”

“Honor? Poor choice of words, coming from you.”

The geminus glowered. “And a word of which you are unfamiliar. Have you not profited, and well, from the advantage my master bestowed upon you? Is not all of this”—it waved its hands at the study, the shelves of books, the expensive carpets, the heavy desk of imported wood—“the culmination of your power?”

“I don’t need the Devil’s magic to succeed.” Nearly everything in the house, and the house itself, had been purchased before Leo had received his gift.

“Mark me well, mortal,” the geminus spat, “it is a small matter to my master to take all of this away from you. Everything can be taken away.”

Leo tensed. “What the hell are you threatening?”

“Precisely. Hell.” Seeing that it had Leo’s complete attention, the creature smirked. “My master does not tolerate sedition within his ranks. Sever ties with Lord Whitney. Should you see him again, kill him. And bring your wife to heel. You are her lord and master. Bend her to your will.”

Leo hated having anyone tell him what to do. Yet fury warred with fear. “If I don’t?”

The geminus moved to the fire, then reached into the flames. Leo hissed as searing pain blazed up his left hand and arm, and as he stared at his hand, the skin reddened and blistered. Turning back to face him, the geminus held a tongue of flame in its palm.

Leo stared as the flame grew larger, hovering above the geminus’s hand. The flames shifted, forming shapes out of fire. Figures emerged. His house appeared, only to tumble down into a smoking ruin. Yet he did not truly feel terror until Anne’s likeness appeared in the flames. A host of demonic creatures attacked, and he could do nothing but watch as the beasts dragged her away toward a ravenous abyss.

“Goddamn you.” He snarled, striding nearer.

The flame and images vanished from the geminus’s grasp. Pain receded by bare degrees from Leo’s hand, but rage and horror sank talons into him.

“Damn you,” the geminus corrected. “That is a given. Yet you shall damn her, as well, if my master’s will is disobeyed.”

Fury poured through Leo, white-hot. Most of it directed at himself.

He’d been stubbornly heedless, convinced of his own supremacy. A bloody thick-headed fool. To think that his gain outweighed any consequence, that nothing mattered but his advancement and the destruction of those he saw as his enemies.

And to drag Anne down with him ...

It was insupportable. He clenched his hands into fists. “Do not threaten her.”

The geminus gave an ugly laugh. “What leverage have you? My master’s power is vast, and yours a trifle by comparison.”

“But your power is not so great.” Leo stalked to the geminus and wrapped his hand around its throat. He squeezed tightly.

And felt himself choking.

His fingers uncurled from the creature’s throat. The moment he released it, his own breath returned.

Both he and the geminus panted and coughed, and the creature wheezed, “No business investment ... is undertaken without ... insurance.” Regaining more breath, it chuckled. “I am made from you. The other side of your coin. Hurt me in any way, and you hurt yourself.”

Black swam in Leo’s vision. He despised being backed into a corner, but the one who had put him in this position was himself. The architect of his own plight.

The geminus became all solicitousness. “Come, it needn’t be antagonistic between us. If you but heed my master’s command, your rewards will increase tenfold. You may enjoy a life superior to a king or emperor. And your wife shall be your empress. No harm shall come to her. Nay, she will thrive, and bear you fine, healthy sons—each of them destined for greatness unparalleled. Is that not a fair bargain? To gain so much, and for such a small cost.”

“Bring Anne under my control,” Leo recited, “and cut ties with Whit.”

“Your rewards would be handsome, if you were to eliminate Lord Whitney. Say, lure him into your confidence, and so dispatch him.”

“Let’s speak plainly. You want me to kill him.”

The geminus smiled at Leo, and the uncanniness of being smiled at by himself made his gut clench. “Ah, my master always did enjoy your directness. So, have we reached an accord?”

“I—”

The door to the study banged open, and the fire sputtered. Anne stood at the threshold.

“Leo, send your visitor away. We must talk—” Her words died as she looked past him to the geminus. Color leached from her face. “Oh, my God.”

“Hello, my dear,” murmured the geminus. “At last I have the pleasure of meeting you.”

What she saw before her was impossible. Leo in the study. Not Leo, singular, but two identical men, both of them not merely resembling her husband, but were her husband. Save for their difference in dress, the men in the study were mirror images of each other.

He had no twin brother. This she knew.

Then who, or what, was this other man?

Her gaze darted back and forth between the men. One was dressed in the same clothing she had seen Leo wearing throughout the day—dark brown coat, waistcoat of green wool, buff breeches tucked into tall, glossy boots—and the other was clad in a gentleman’s bronze velvet ditto suit, the buckles on his shoes clearly not paste. Aside from these surface differences, she could not tell the men apart.

No—that wasn’t true. One looked at her with agony in his storm gray gaze, the other smiled at her, but his eyes revealed a profound, bitter coldness, as if she were no more than a grub found wriggling through the flour.

“What is this?” she rasped.

“A fortuitous encounter,” said the Leo in velvet. God, even his voice was the same, with the barest hint of a rough accent in the hard consonants. He took a step toward her. “If I may—”

The other Leo moved to block his path, his face darkening in fury. “Don’t bloody touch her.”

The cold one smirked. “We have already proven that your threats hold no weight. I was merely going to suggest—”

“Suggest nothing.” The rage in this Leo’s face outpaced the vengeful wrath she had seen from him in the riot at the theater. And it terrified her as her mind struggled to understand what she saw before her.

He turned back to her. “Anne,” he said gently, the way one might speak to a frightened horse, “it’s me. Your husband. Leo.”

“Then who is he?”

His mouth tightened. “My geminus.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“You’re a clever girl,” drawled the other Leo, the geminus. “Surely you can hazard a guess. Only consider: I came into being one very eventful night three months ago.”

According to Livia, that was when Leo and the other Hellraisers made their pact with the Devil, exchanging tokens for their sinister magic. This thing sprang into existence from that exchange. Looking at it now, she saw in its wintry gaze the most malevolent parts of Leo—rage, contempt, hatred. Drawn forth from him, and given flesh.

“It’s you.” She stared at her husband, who stared back with anguish. She could only imagine she looked equally ravaged. “Your dark counterpart.”

“Ah, you are clever.” Yet the geminus looked far from pleased by this notion.

Anne’s hand rose to her throat. “God, Leo, what have you done?”

“What I thought I must,” he rasped.

The geminus clicked its tongue. “Let us not stray from the subject at hand. Now that you are here, we may as well discuss vital matters.” It attempted to move closer to her, and again, Leo lunged into its path, blocking its advance.

“I said, Don’t. Bloody. Touch. Her.”

The heat and violence of his words made Anne edge back. She had never seen Leo this angry, and his rage was a terrible thing, savage as a blood-maddened wolf. Everything became a peril, especially the man she knew as husband. What did he want from her? What would he do? Anything was possible, and all of it awful.