The mansion’s lobby felt quieter than usual. My mother and I were there, waiting.

  A knock at the door. My mother goes to open it.

  “Welcome, Father,” she says.

  My grandfather nods.

  Helmut Kestrel. Former weapon of the Council, mentor of weapons for generations, and a distinguished member of the five families that make up the Council’s second ring. His visits are rare—but when they happen, they are never social calls.

  He wastes no time.

  “I read your report, Lorcan,” he says flatly. “I came to hear it from you in person.”

  He crosses the lobby and sits down on one of the armchairs as if the mansion belonged to him. Technically, it did.

  “Lorcan, tell him what you told me,” my mother insists.

  I sigh and sit across from my grandfather.

  “Last night I had a mission at a psychiatric hospital,” I say. “Confirmed demonic activity, but I found signs of prior intervention by the Faith. I’m assuming the Left Hand.”

  “What kind of signs?”

  “A large portion of the possessed were already gone, and I found a light blade holding a demon in place while it burned slowly.”

  Helmut runs a hand through his beard.

  “And the body?”

  “Ashes. Only the demon remained.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I broke the blade and finished the demon myself so the cleanup team could do their job.”

  My grandfather shifts in his chair.

  “Congratulations,” he says. “You’ve got a paladin operating loose near you.”

  I swallow. I’d heard the stories—but I’d never had to deal with one personally.

  “Are you sure?” my mother asks.

  “Not many Left Hand operatives could pull off something like that—maybe two,” he replies. “Both are bad news. But from what you’re describing, this is most likely the paladin of this generation.”

  “But why here?” my mother presses. “As far as I know, mission details are shared between the Faith and the Council precisely to avoid misunderstandings like this.”

  Helmut pulls out a cigarette and lights it with a flame from his thumb.

  “Don’t you think your friend might have something to do with it, Lorcan?”

  How does he know? I didn’t tell him. I look at my mother. She gives me a look that clearly says I had to.

  “Elena mentioned she has a brother who works for the Faith,” I say. “Do you think he’s coincidentally the paladin?”

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  “If I’ve learned anything over the years,” Helmut says, “it’s that coincidences aren’t coincidences. The cycle has a very particular way of moving.”

  My mother crosses one leg over the other.

  “So… the paladin is acting on his own?”

  “I hope so. If he’s unauthorized, we can stop him without a fight.”

  Silence.

  My watch vibrates. I check my phone. A message from Elena.

  “I have to go,” I say, standing up and looking at my grandfather.

  He exhales smoke.

  “Go,” he says. “But if I were you, I’d keep a closer eye on that girl, Elena. As you’ve probably noticed by now, she’s no longer a secret.”

  I don’t answer. It’s already too late for that.

  Lorcan isn’t answering.

  My classes ended two hours ago. The faculty building has already closed for the night, and the surrounding area is empty. It’s just Carmen, Gabriel, and me, waiting for him.

  I don’t mind their company. It’s better than waiting alone in an empty place like this. Lately, I don’t like being alone.

  “I hope he gets here soon…” I say.

  “Yeah,” Gabriel replies. “We still have to record that horror story.”

  I sigh.

  “I don’t even know how you talked me into it…”

  “It was a trade,” Carmen says. “We found you alone here and you asked us to stay. Now you’re the secondary character in a horror audiobook.”

  I can’t help frowning.

  “I thought I was going to be the protagonist.”

  “Nope. I’m the protagonist. You die on page two.”

  It’s not that funny—but it’s Carmen. She always knows how to get a smile out of me.

  Then it gets cold.

  Not the normal chill of nightfall. There’s no wind. It’s localized, as if only the air around us has shifted. The atmosphere thickens. Almost solid.

  I can see my own breath.

  Carmen is the first to comment. She rubs her arms.

  “Is it just me, or did it suddenly get colder?”

  “A little…” Gabriel says, checking his phone. “My phone says the temperature didn’t drop. No cold front either…”

  The cold intensifies. This time I feel it at the back of my neck. The same sensation as before—being measured, evaluated. Admired. Desired.

  Far too familiar.

  Then we hear it.

  A crash. Like a heavy impact, coming from inside the building. Gabriel and Carmen tense instantly. Without thinking, I bring a hand to my neck.

  “Elena, are you okay?” Carmen asks. “You’re pale.”

  I don’t answer. I’m frozen—figuratively and literally.

  “Carmen…” I say finally. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She looks at me, worried.

  “And Lorcan?” she asks.

  “I don’t care,” I murmur. “My apartment. Yours. Gabriel’s. Anywhere. Let’s go.”

  The crash sounds again.

  This time it’s not an impact—it’s something giving way. The side door of the faculty building, made of iron, buckles inward with a horrible, agonizing screech. The frame warps. Tempered glass explodes inward.

  Carmen screams. Gabriel instinctively steps in front of us.

  A glacial wave spills out from the entrance. The temperature drops several more degrees in an instant.

  Then it appears.

  It has a human shape. It looks like the night guard—the one who locked up the building a couple of hours ago. If I remember something Lorcan once said, it’s already far too late for him.

  It moves with the same erratic pattern the nurse had. Joints bending too far, a slight delay between intent and motion, as if its body is always a fraction of a second behind. Its head cracks and jerks unnaturally.

  And then I see it.

  Its eyes—or whatever those pale shapes in its face are—are locked onto me. I can’t move.

  The pull hits suddenly. Once. Twice. The third time, my stomach twists violently. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I’ve never felt it this strong.

  “Elena!” Carmen shouts, but her voice sounds distant. Warped.

  The possessed moves.

  It doesn’t walk.

  It’s in front of me.

  No transition. No space in between. One second it’s past Gabriel—then it’s so close my blood freezes and the stench of rotting flesh becomes unbearable.

  I gather all my strength and manage to take a single step back.

  I see Gabriel grab a folding metal chair stacked against the wall. He charges and swings it with everything he has. The impact is solid.

  Nothing happens.

  Just a bent chair clattering to the floor.

  A tentacle lashes out from the possessed and slams into Gabriel, hurling him into a nearby wall.

  I hear Carmen scream, but I can’t see her move.

  The pull intensifies. It’s no longer just pressure.

  It’s noise.

  Thoughts that aren’t mine seep in through the edges of my consciousness. Fragments. Urges. Hunger. Recognition.

  “There you are…”

  I hear it—but I don’t know where the voice is coming from.

  Something cold grips my right wrist.

  “So bright…”

  The voice didn’t come from the air.

  This time, it came from inside me.