Alex rests her head back and clenches her jaw as the recoil of her magic hits her system. She arches her back, and her arms tremble with seizures. When it passes, she breathes long and slow, then wipes away the black soot on her palms.
“I’ve never seen the hunters before,” Rose says, a little too enthusiastically considering they’re now hunting us.
“Who are they?” Maks asks.
“Ma never really talked about them,” Alex says.
“They’re called the Knights of Lavant.” When he says their name, Nova grips the wheel harder. “They’ve been hunting magical beings for centuries. Mostly were-beasts and vamps. Witches were harder to find out, but they have no love for us.”
“Why doesn’t anyone know about this?” Maks asks, frustrated. “I mean, regular people deserve to know what’s out there.”
Those words coming from him bother me more than I’d ever thought. Regular people.
“Because the regular world can’t process anything outside of their comfort,” Nova says. “The Knights of Lavant existed to rid the world of evil and keep the supernatural hidden. But not all things that look monstrous are evil.”
He and Alex share a quiet stare, and I wonder if they’re remembering their time in Los Lagos.
“So this happens all the time?” Maks asks, and his incredulity is so naive. “How do you live?”
Alex cackles humorlessly. “You being a casimuerto has something to do with their interest in us.”
“What, they don’t hunt witches?”
“It’s complicated,” Nova says, glancing over his shoulder at the empty road behind us. “The abridged version? When the underworld leaders banded together to form the Thorne Hill Alliance, the Knights had no choice but to stop hunting without probable cause. The Knights didn’t even sign the Alliance treaty until three years after its inception. They didn’t want to give up their authority, but that was the good thing about the Thorne Hill Alliance—the vamps, the weres, the witches—we have our differences but we outnumber the Knights.”
“Wait, Thorne Hill? Like our school?” Maks asks.
“Yeah, the founder of the school was a hunter,” Nova says. His eyes catch mine in the rearview mirror.
“I didn’t know that,” Alex says, frowning. “How do you?”
“I told you once, Ladybird,” Nova says, leaning forward on the wheel to reach for his seat belt. “I make it my business to know things.”
“The hunter who saved me from Kassandra said he gave me twenty-four hours,” I say, and in this moment, I wish everything would slow down. That I could get lost in the dark of the city and have all of this fade into a dream. “They gave me the heart. They know where we live.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we were lucky the Knights showed up,” Nova says. “They must’ve been hunting the casimuertos. When I went to investigate the crime scene behind the school, the EMT said the whole family had their hearts ripped out. That could’ve been you.”
Alex looks at me and the secret between us is a chord around my neck.
“Lucky,” I say bitterly.
“That girl was going to rip out your heart,” Alex shouts, turning around in her seat. “You weren’t even going to fight back. I know you feel guilty, but you have to fight back. You were stupid and reckless. You can’t free Lady de la Muerte if you’re dead.”
“Whoa, easy,” Nova says.
“No, she’s right,” I say softly.
“Isn’t this one less problem?” Rose asks. “We can concentrate on the spear, and the Knights of Lavant can hunt the casimuertos.”
“Not if they want to kill Maks too,” Nova says.
“So where do we go?” I ask.
“I know a shifter,” Nova says. “He’s THA so if we explain what’s happening, they can give us sanctuary. The Knights can’t touch us if he lets us in. We can let the heat die down tonight and go from there.”
“And you’re sure we can trust him?” I ask.
Nova nods as the car flies down the highway. “As much as I can trust anyone.”
“T-H-A?” Maks spells it out.
“Thorne Hill Alliance,” I say.
Nova flicks the turn signal and takes the exit to Coney Island. “I forgot I love driving. I should really get my license.”
• • •
The crumbling art deco building on West Twenty-First Street faces the ocean. I’ve walked past it a million times and never thought of it as much more than another bit of decaying property in New York’s forgotten corners.
But now, standing in front of one of the four archways, I can feel the glamour protecting it. When Nova lifts the rusted knocker on one of the doors and slams it, the illusion crackles and fades away, and I see the building for what it truly is.
Terracotta tiles cover every inch of the exterior. Sandstone carvings that mimic rolling waves decorate the top of each archway. Blue-and-gold mosaics depict breathtaking renderings of Poseidon and his trident, the night sky, a wolf howling at the moon, and a woman wielding magic.
“What if he’s not home?” Maks asks.
“What if he won’t let us in?” Rose asks.
The door swings open, and the soft light from inside the building is the brightest thing on the boardwalk. A young man with messy, brown hair peeking from the edges of a black Yankees baseball cap stands at the door. He has a twisted smile, like he finds everything in the world amusing.
“What’s the brouhaha, kids?” he says, mischievous, brown eyes taking in the harried sight of us.
Nova shakes his head and takes the hand the shifter extends. “You’re still corny as hell, McKay.”
“You look familiar,” Alex says, squinting at his face.
“I just have one of those faces.” McKay lifts his cap up at her and steps aside to let us in. “Sorry about the mess. We’ve been out in full force thanks to an increase in otherworldly attacks. But I suppose that’s just a regular Tuesday night.”
“It’s Thursday,” Rose points out.
“Scorn the calendar gods!” McKay shakes his fist at the ceiling in faux rage. He shuts the door and it locks automatically. “I’d ring for tea, but this doesn’t seem like a social visit. Also, we don’t drink tea. What’s up, Nova?”
“Trouble,” Nova says. “You mentioned an increase in otherworldly attacks.”
“Yeah,” he says, his curiosity piqued.
“We know what they are,” I say.
“Say no more,” McKay says, lifting his hands. “My partner will be here shortly, and he’ll want to hear this. Follow me.”
We follow the shape-shifter through a living room area littered with clothes and books and dozens of coffee mugs. It looks more like a laid-back office space than the headquarters for a supernatural organization. Then, he leads us down a hallway to a metal door with a closed eye embedded at the center. When McKay gets closer, the eye opens up and blinks twice. McKay lines up his eyes to the one on the door, a bright yellow light scans his retina, then the eye shuts. The metal door swings open.
“Is that a real eye?” Maks asks.
McKay sort of shrugs and turns the light on in the white room. Rows of tables project holograms of public spaces: Times Square, the World Trade Center, Coney Island, Central Park, the airports, the seaports, and Long Island City. Every few moments, the hologram zooms in on a face. Information scrolls up in neon-green text. Name: Melanie Alacran. Category: Solitary Ada. Species: Fae. Threat: Minimum.
“What is this?” Alex asks, touching one of the holograms.
When she does, the picture zooms in to Central Park. A group of teens are drinking in a field. It takes a moment for me to realize that they aren’t human teens. Their ears are pointed and their faces impossibly beautiful.
“Fairies,” Rose says, a smile rounding out her apple cheeks.
“London�
�s got nothing on us,” McKay says. “We monitor all magical activity in the tristate area.”
“Is this even legal?” Alex asks dryly.
McKay looks from Alex to me and back to my sister. “As legal as the infirmary on the second floor of your house. And no, we weren’t spying on you. Your mother healed my friend and me last year.”
“That’s how I remember you,” Alex says, snapping her finger. “You and the vampire. You showed up skewered by a dozen arrows.”
“The shish kebab look didn’t really suit us,” McKay says.
“And I prefer Frederik to ‘the vampire,’” a deep voice says from the corner of the room. If he’d been sitting there this whole time, he must’ve been incredibly still or invisible.
“Actually, he really loves when people call him Count Sparkle Pony,” McKay says, winking at Rose, who proceeds to turn a fiery red.
Frederik moves faster than I can blink. In a fraction of a second, he’s standing beside me, arms crossed over his chest. His face is the white of moonstone, with endlessly black eyes fringed by darker lashes. His elegant features conflate with his simple, dark clothes, as if he were pulled out of time and never acclimated.
“I don’t believe our guests are here for a comedy routine,” Frederik tells McKay. The edge of his mouth quirks up to reveal a glistening, sharp fang.
Is that supposed to be a smile?
When Frederick looks at me, I feel like I’m actively shrinking to the size of a speck of dust. “Why have you come here?”
“We—we were attacked,” I say. “The Knights of Lavant are after us.”
“But why are they after you?” Frederik asks me, and I wonder if he can hear the way my heart speeds up.
Alex, who’s been shifting her weight nonstop beside me, leans into Nova and mutters something in his ear. Whatever she said has the brujo smirking and nodding.
“I speak twenty-seven languages, Miss Mortiz,” Frederik tells my sister. “And I can hear anything within a ten-block radius.”
“Plus, whispering’s just rude.” McKay winks at her.
Alex stammers. “I’m sorry. I just want to be sure we can trust you.”
“You’re in my house,” Frederick says, and even though his face is calculated steel, his tongue is sharp. “The Thorne Hill Alliance is willing to help everyone from the magical community who comes to our doors. And we owe your mother a debt. But I need the truth.”
There is so much I want to communicate to Alex. Nova turned on her once, and even though I want to believe he’s trying to do better, there’s a part of me that doesn’t trust his intentions. But we need their resources.
In one breath, I tell him everything. The healing canto, the tethering spell, Lady de la Muerte, the other casimuertos in the alley, the heart in the box, our visit to Angela Santiago. When I get to The Accursed Book, Alex’s stare never wavers from my face. But I keep my promise and only tell them about the other recorded accounts. At the end of it, I’m breathless and the aches in my side and my chest pulse with pain. I grab hold of one of the tables for support.
Frederik’s face is unmoved. It’s like looking at a marble sculpture. Then, he looks at Maks, who visibly shrinks back from the dark stare.
“You’re one of them?”
I shield Maks by stepping in front of him. “He doesn’t remember. He hasn’t fed since the Knights left the heart on my doorstep.”
Frederik looks at McKay, a ripple disturbs his chiseled jaw, and a hot flash covers my body from head to toe out of fear I have said the wrong thing. “The Knights gave you a heart?”
“It had to be. In the alley, one of them told me that he gave me twenty-four hours,” I explain. “That’s what it said on the note in the box.”
“What I don’t get is how that hunter knew Maks was in our house,” Alex says. “Why help Maks and not the others?”
“Do the Knights go rogue?” Rose asks. “You seem surprised.”
“The Knights of Lavant are assisting in cleaning up the dead bodies,” McKay says, as if they’re picking up a wreck after a frat party instead of cleaving bodies in half. “They never said they knew the source of all this or that they’d made contact with you.”
“Why would they keep that from you?” I ask.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll get answers,” Frederik tells me. He keys something on the hologram and a map of the city covers the entire far wall. “As for the other issue at hand, we’ve been trying to pinpoint the source of these zombie—casimuertos by following the murders in the city. The blue dots are bodies with missing hearts. The red dots are what we believe to be the culprits.”
There’s a smattering of glowing black dots on the screen. I ask, “What about the black ones?”
“Just run-of-the-mill murders,” McKay says, winking his big, brown eye.
I have the strangest feeling of déjà vu, but I focus on the images on the projected map. “The boys and the family behind my school were the only ones on the news.”
“Plus the other fifty-seven that have gone unreported.”
“Fifty-seven?” My voice is so high-pitched dogs can probably hear me.
McKay looks down at his feet, his smile gone for the first time since we arrived. “We protect the people of this city. This news could spread untold panic. But every time one of our witches tried to pinpoint the origin, this happened.”
McKay zooms in on the map to highlight downtown Manhattan and Brooklyn. Bright-red dots glow where we are in Coney Island, flickering like fireflies. Dozens of them—in Prospect Park, around Thorne Hill, and a horde clustered on the Brooklyn Bridge, moving toward Manhattan. Thin, red lines connect them all, zigzagging in a tangle all over the city.
“Oh, dear gods,” I manage to say.
“That’s not all,” McKay says, pressing another button. “At the rate they’re multiplying, this is what the city will look like.”
The red fireflies spread over entire parts of the city. My heart beats so fast I can’t breathe. I dig in my pocket for the elixir and pop off the cork with my thumb. I drain every last drop, until I can stand on my own and my body doesn’t hurt anymore.
“Last summer a sea witch tried to decimate this coast,” McKay says, “and now this. It’s like the magic of the world is pushing back against everything that’s kept it hidden for so long.”
“Even with the Knights of Lavant,” Frederick says, “we don’t know how to contain this. I’ve been developing a serum to sedate them. They’re stronger when they feed, but we haven’t been able to catch one to run any tests. Now they seem to be gathering in packs.”
I don’t know how to contain this, but I know one way of ending it for good. I try to keep my voice from trembling. Panic twists in my gut, like a hand wringing around my insides. “How long until the city is overrun?”
McKay lifts his cap to smooth out his hair. He sighs uncertainly. “A week? If we’re lucky. It’s not viral, but they’re still multiplying somehow.”
This is the future I’ve given my city. I look at Alex, and she shakes her head slowly, her lips taut, her eyes pleading.
Frederik doesn’t miss the movement. “What is it?”
“Lula.” Alex says my name like a warning.
“Lula, something’s wrong.” Maks reaches for my hand, but a pain makes him double over. His eyes flash white and then back to blue. He’s going to turn. He’s going to turn in front of everyone the way Raj and Dale and Kassandra did. I tell myself that Maks is different. Because I healed him before he died, before I tethered him. The others didn’t get that kindness.
“What aren’t you saying?” Frederik’s posture becomes predatory as he turns to me.
Alex tries to reach for me just as Frederik fades into a blur. Alex hits him with a ripple of magic, and the vampire bares his fangs and punches against the inviable barrier she creates between me and the others. “L
ula, run!”
“Fred—he’s turning,” McKay says as Maks falls to his knees.
And in this moment, I know I can’t watch what he’ll become.
I run out the room and out the way we came. Red dots dance in front my eyes, residual lights from staring at the screen McKay showed us. My legs move slower than usual, but I keep going until there is only the ocean and me.
The night sea breeze hits my face as I hurry down the boardwalk, away from the lights and the rides, away from the Thorne Hill Alliance building, away from my family and Maks.
A cramp works its way back into my chest and sides, and I stop. I grip my knees and wait for the dizziness to pass. I look up at the night-blue sky, dotted with speckles of stars and a waning moon, hoping to find the answers there that no one has been able to give me—not even La Muerte.
Where are the Deos? I asked her.
In the place where you least expect them, she said.
You must free me, she said.
All I wanted was for my life to go back to the way it was. All I wanted was for Maks to live.
Emergency sirens blast in the distance, and I have to wonder if they’re going to find a heartless body when they get to where they’re going. I press my hand over my heart. When I read The Accursed Book, I knew my fate. Despite what Alex said on the train, this is where my story ends. Maybe not in this moment, standing on this boardwalk in the dark, facing the ocean, but I can feel it drawing near, and I don’t know if I can right the wrongs I’ve set in motion.
“How am I supposed to do this?” I shout at the sea. The sky. The empty space that surrounds me. “Answer me!”
I breathe sharply, but my insides tighten like rusted springs and I can’t exhale. A thread pierces the core of my heart, and in that moment, the agony is so acute I can see only darkness.
Everything fades, and the same room in which I last saw La Muerte comes into focus.
She’s thinner than before. Her skin is the translucent slickness of an amphibian. A black ooze drips from the edges of her twisted thorn crown, and her cracked, blue lips pull back over glistening yellow teeth.
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