Page 133 of She Haunts Me Still

One of my favorite things about rehearsals,Ezra said one evening,is that nothing ever happens the same way twice. You can never re-create an exact performance; once you live it, it’s gone.

That’s kind of depressing,she answered, staring at him over the flame.

It can be,Ezra mused.Or it can be inspiring. Maybe even hopeful. I mean, that’s everything else, too, right? Nothing happens the same way twice. So, you have to pay attention. ’Cause it’s never gonna be like that again.

Mallory stares at him now, all tangled hair and blood-tinged lips. “Are you really sure you want to do this?” she whispers.

Ezra nods with the faintest tilt of his head. Something splinters inside her at the gesture, and she moves without thinking, flinging her arms around him.

He hesitates only a moment before gathering her against his chest in the fierce, breathless grip of a last goodbye. It’s not an embrace punctuated by desire, but by finality. A broken boy and a broken girl on a moonlight-drenched island, a fading constellation of almost-love.

“Ezra,” Mallory breathes, face buried in his coat. “It was real for me, too.”

He presses a careful kiss to the top of her head, palms skimming her hair with precision.

“I know, Jules,” he says. “I know.”

When they pull apart, Ezra takes her hand, weaving hisbloodied fingers between hers before squeezing twice in quick succession. It sends her over the edge; tears spill onto her cheeks, hot and damp.

It’s the last thing she’ll remember from him, the moment she’ll replay over and over for the rest of her life.

Ezra drops her hand and walks toward the fire. He doesn’t look back.

When the door opens again, one of the women in white is carrying Saskia, another trailing close behind.

“Come,” the second woman says. “You can help.”

Mallory nods, falling into place as they walk behind the cottage to the bonfire. A few other women are throwing twigs into the smoke. Dried flowers. Small bits of bone. Another woman in white has fashioned two circles on either side of the flames with stones. Saskia’s motionless body is laid into one; Ezra moves into the other. Mallory watches as he stares at the sky for a long moment before shutting his eyes.

It’s a careful, precise action. He knows he won’t open them again.

Swallowing a sob, she studies Saskia; her eyes are wide but unseeing. Her breathing is shallow. She’s a husk of the person Mallory saw just this morning.

“Here,” one of the women says, offering Mallory a crown of flowers before taking her hand. “We’ll be stronger with you.”

They join the circle around the fire, everyone wearing floral headpieces with twigs and leaves. Penelope stands in the middle, the bridge between Ezra and Saskia.

Then, they start to move, slowly at first, before picking up pace, circling the three figures while Penelope chants in a language Mallory has never heard before. Mallory struggles to keep up; the autumn air bites her cheeks as she runs with the other women, all of them humming in unison—

Until Penelope’s alto is drowned by a terrible snarling. The growl rattles low in Mallory’s skull, forming words.

Such a foolish, selfish girl.

Mallory gasps at the sound of the Blood Angel’s voice. The same voice she’s heard spilling from Ezra’s mouth. Only now, it’s in the air. On the wind. Pounding violently inside her ears.

Insideher.

Don’t you realize,the Blood Angel hisses,that you can’t defeat me?You can only quiet me. I will linger in your dreams. In your bones. You will never be free of me.

Bile churns inside her. “No—”

But first,the angel purrs,you will witness my wrath.

Before Mallory can process what’s happening, Ezra starts convulsing, like he’s having a seizure, dark red blood spilling from his mouth. Mallory screams, ankles knotting together, forcing her to stumble. One of the women pulls her up without breaking stride, just as Ezra starts twisting against the ground. Limbs breaking. Snapping. As if his entire body is stretching to create a cavern wide enough for both forces of energy, but there simply isn’t enough space.

“Stop,” Mallory begs the voice in her ears. Nausea overtakes her as the world becomes a blur. “You’re hurting him. Please—”

You should have given me what’s mine,the angel taunts.Now his blood is on your hands.