HOWARD WAS STILL DAZED ON the floor, his body crumpled in a corner. Rhys dove for the gun still strapped at his side and aimed it at Saul, but by the time he shot, Saul had already lifted Jeff’s corpse to take the bullet. Black mist wafted up from the floor at his feet, slowly hardening into torn flesh.

Phantoms.

My fingers found my hair, locking around the curls as I stumbled back, falling onto the chaise longue. This wasn’t happening.

“Marian,” Saul whispered.

Right in front of me.

“What?” The gasp had torn out of me so violently it hurt my throat. How had he—from across the room . . . Was I imagining it? No. I could feel his foot against mine.

“There’s something I need to ask you, poupée.” He gripped my arm and forced me up, his wild eyes digging inside me, scraping the layers to find someone else locked deep within. “Stop wasting my time and wake up, okay?”

“Get down!” Belle yelled behind me.

With a grunt, I slammed my hands against Saul’s face, sending him stumbling back. As I fell to the floor, Belle waved her hands and a rush of water rose out of the heavy air, swallowing Saul and freezing him solid within it.

“W-watch out.” Howard’s words slurred as he struggled to pick himself back up.

I heard growling beside me. The phantoms, three of them. They were wolflike in shape, their bones clinging precariously to wisps of black fur. As I scrambled out of the way, Belle leapt over the chaise and slashed through them with her sword.

“Rhys.” Belle flipped her sword over. “Take Maia and get her out of here.”

“But . . .” My lips felt alien as I moved them. “My uncle’s downstairs!”

Screams from down below seeped through the windows. I ran there, peering down at the street. People were fleeing the building, but it was too far down to see if Uncle Nathan was among them.

He was probably looking for me right now.

I spun around. Saul’s frozen smile beamed dreamily back at me.

“I can’t leave! I have to find my uncle! I’m not going anywhere!” The words slipped out of my mouth, eager and foolish.

“Got that out of your system?” Rhys grabbed my arm. “Come on.”

One crack shivered up the ice. A second. A third.

“Come on!” Rhys pulled me, but it was too late. Belle jumped back as the ice shattered on its own. Saul raised his right arm to the heavens.

And brought hell with him.

“Damn it,” Rhys swore as more phantoms seeped in from the floor, twisting their necks and breaking their backs into place, ready to feast.

Howard unbuckled his black case and pulled out a giant firearm.

“You idiot,” cried Rhys. “Stop!”

But Howard fired a shot anyway. I’d heard of the Sect’s crazy technology, particularly the weapons they’d had to develop in order to vaporize phantoms. I’d never seen one, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t meant for indoor use.

The electrical current blasted apart two phantoms, but burst against the wall, nearly taking it down and shaking the entire room. The rest attacked.

Rhys shoved me behind him. “Once you find an opening, get the hell out of here,” he ordered, though his voice was drowned out by the sudden onslaught of the War Siren wailing for the second time this month. Howard tossed Rhys a short black baton he’d slipped out of his boot, and when Rhys flicked it, a long iron rod shot out of one end.

“Maia, go!” Rhys switched on an electrical charge.

But we were already surrounded.

One tore at my dress, and I kicked it off, feeling the sting of its claws in my skin. While Rhys swung his baton into the side of one beast, and then another, Howard reached inside the black case and drew out three small metal balls.

“Shield your eyes!” Rhys ordered.

Howard threw them, and white light flashed the moment they landed on the ground; I could see it through my eyelids. I opened them just in time to see the smoky black remains of phantoms dissipating into the air.

The path was clear. Belle was handling herself against her enemies—one of the phantoms was already skewered by spikes of ice shuddering through the king-size bed. And Saul—Saul was nowhere to be found. I didn’t question it. I ran.

People were already fleeing down the hallway half-naked with phantoms barreling after them. A set of bone fangs sank into one poor man’s leg, and the much younger woman beside him screamed in terror as blood spilled onto the carpet. I froze for a helpless second before setting my resolve and heading for the stairwell.

I had to find my uncle.

I darted down the first flight of stairs with some of the other hotel patrons. Some were clumsier than others. I had to grip the railing when someone behind me tripped and stumbled to avoid being taken down the steps with him.

The man groaned in pain on the landing. “Are you okay?” I asked, lifting him to his feet. “Come on, we gotta go!”

But we’d gotten only three steps down the next flight when the top half of the staircase exploded beneath us, launching me forward. I could just barely register the screams through the sharp ringing in my ears before I slammed into the far wall.

One side of me was numb. Shakily, I shifted onto my knees, shutting my right eye to keep out the blood dripping down my forehead.

“What . . . what’s happening?” I mumbled as I felt around for something to hold on to. Everything was dull and hazy, sounds, sights. My sweaty hands slipped across a windowpane, my fingers tracing the cracks from the explosion.

“Let me help you.”

Saul.

Grabbing my neck, he lifted me and shoved me against the full-length window. His other hand sealed off my screams. With wide eyes, I stared at the carnage behind him, at the people crying in the staircase as phantoms sawed through flesh. It was too much. I turned my head, my cheek pressed against the window’s stinging cold. But I could still hear them screaming.

“Tell me your name.”

So much screaming. I trembled in his grip, my whimpers muffled.

Saul sighed. “I thought you’d remember me on the balcony, but you’re still hiding, aren’t you, Marian?”

“P-please,” I said once he released his hand. “Please let me go—”

“Tell me your name.”

“Maia!” The word echoed in the hallway. “My name is Maia!”

He tilted his head as I dissolved into a crying mess. “You really are just going to keep hiding inside this girl, aren’t you, Marian? After all this time, you still don’t want to see me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice broke. Tears streamed down my cheeks. “You’ve got the wrong person.” Why wouldn’t he believe me?

“I think not. I can understand, Marian, why you wouldn’t want to speak to me. But what about him?” Carefully, Saul tapped his temple. “He’s in here as well. Screaming for you. You’re going to ignore him, too?”

“Let me go.” I struggled against his grip. “This is insane! Please, just let me go!”

Saul pressed my head against the window so hard I thought my skull would cave in. My blood thumped painfully against my brain, my head screaming in agony for relief. I just wanted it to stop.

“Yes . . . maybe he can jog your memory. All this time, all he’s ever wanted was to hear you whisper his name again.” Saul’s eyes twinkled with the malicious curiosity of a boy about to pull the wings off a fly. “And to kiss you again.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as he leaned in, but the moment he pressed his lips against mine, my eyes snapped back open.

The pain was gone. I couldn’t see Saul at all. Scenes flashed one after another, faces and figures streaming in and out of view, but I couldn’t hold on to one image. Was this what they meant by seeing your life flash before your eyes? Maybe he’d really killed me.

Then I saw the shallow stream.

Yes, a stream, white as pearl. Mist stretched out all around me as far as I could see, and through the mist, a few feet in front of me—a red door. There was a red door, a set of them blowing open with the rush of wind.

It wasn’t long before my head started burning. It was hot, too hot. Images, moments, and memories blazed past like breaths of fire. None of them mine.

And then suddenly I was in a drawing room. My head wasn’t burning anymore, so I could focus on everything around me—the quaintness and simplicity. I breathed in. The old curtains veiling the windows gave the air a musty smell. The floor was polished, but the dark ottomans near the eggshell sofas looked almost vintage. There was a sewing table tucked to the side, and a bust of a man’s head placed near the fireplace, but it was the wooden writing desk by the center window that drew my attention. At the desk, a girl rested her head atop a pile of books, her arms cushioning her face. Her Rapunzel-gold hair draped over her chair behind her, twisting in knots as it stretched toward the floor.

But there was something off about the room, about the girl. She wore a plain-cut white nightgown with long sleeves and cuffs. The lace frills of her high collar curled up her neck. An old-fashioned look for such a young woman. Old portraits hung on the walls, portraits of people in clothes nobody would have worn in at least a century. Off in the corner ticked a grandfather clock laden with white, embroidered draperies.

The girl raised her head and turned, her pale blue eyes sparkling with mischief as she looked . . . at me.

“Ah, Marian, you came.” Her lips twisted into a conspiratorial smile. “Good. I have something to show you.”

Alice, whispered a voice buried deep in my mind. The memory was drawing me in, away from my own body and into the room, into this other reality.

“No, stop!” Shutting her eyes, I shook myself free, sending my consciousness spiraling back down into the stairwell. When I pried my eyes open, I was back in Saul’s grip. “Get away from me,” I shrieked. “Stop it! Leave me alone!”

“Guess it’s no use.” Saul tsked. “Marian, poupée, this new body of yours . . . I hate her.” And then he leaned in, his breath hot against my lips. “Hurry up and find a new one.”

He punched the glass. The window shattered around me, glass cascading over my head, slicing skin. Before I could register his fingers leaving my neck, he pushed me out.