Page 43 of Midnight Auto Parts

That same pride wreathed his features. “Definethis.”

“Oh, so that’s how you want to play it.” I huffed at his teachable moment. “There’s a trail of light energy. It’s containing the death magic. I think. Almost like a ward.” I squinted at him. “Did you use me to map it for you?”

“This was your doing.”

“Magic doesn’t just happen.” I finished my circuit. “How am I responsible?”

“The darkness recoiled from where you stepped earlier, but it returned in seconds.”

“A circular path gave it nowhere to retreat but into itself.” I made a guess. “The second lap anchored it?”

A ward set in place by my footsteps caused me to trip over my own feet with numb comprehension.

“That was my hypothesis, yes, and it appears you’ve proven it true.”

A faint wave of dizziness struck me, and I leaned against a tree to catch my balance.

“Frankie?”

Exhaustion weighted my limbs, dragging me down. “I’m fine…”

“Bijou,” a familiar voice singsonged as chapped lips brushed my ear. “Bijou.”

“No.” I swatted at air but couldn’t touch Ankou. “Get away from me.”

“But I like you. You used to like me too. Remember the fun we had?”

“You lied to me. To Josie. To everyone. None of it was real. It was as fake as the skin you wore.”

“Do you really want to pick this fight when your boyfriend hides his true face from you too?”

“It’s not the same.”

“You have no idea how alike we are.”

“No.” I ruffled my hair. “Get out of my head.”

Oxygen flooded my lungs as I gasped awake, clawing at my bed to escape the dream of Ankou.

Bed. I was in my bed. In my apartment.

Safe. I was safe. I was…

…drawing blood on Kierce’s arm from raking my nails at a dream.

Kierce had assumed the position, sitting on my mattress with his back flush against my headboard. His legs bracketed mine where he held me in his arms, my spine to his chest. Before I snapped alert, my head had been resting on his shoulder, judging by the warmth at the base of my skull.

Ankou hadn’t tiptoed into my dreams since I died, and I convinced myself it meant he couldn’t reach me. Either he had been biding his time, waiting for the right moment, or the toll of neutralizing and then metabolizing the death magic had scraped my mental barriers low enough for him to slip in through the cracks of my consciousness.

“Oh, God.” I recoiled from the crimson smears, less sparkly than my own, on my fingertips. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t care.” Kierce pulled me back to him. “How do you feel?”

“We need peroxide, antibiotic cream, and bandages.” I wriggled against him. “We need to treat that.”

“Breathe.” He pressed his lips to my temple. “The wounds have already closed.”

A quick glance confirmed he was correct, and my heart slowed from its sprint.

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