I was distantly aware that Carson and Jack were in the doorway, and Jack was holding up his phone, filming everything.

I didn’t care. Let the world know that Eloise Doyle was a goddamn liar.

And she would pay for stealing my Black Book.

I hadpromisedthose people that we would never bother them again, and that I would never give out their information.

I knew what it was like to live with grief that would never find true resolution.

Because of her greed, that promise was broken.

“As if you have a right to judge me!” Her voice was shrill as she backed up, nearly to the cellar stairs. “What do you know, Juno? You spin fantastical stories for YouVid views—”

“I don’t lie about them,” I hissed. “I don’t lie to their families. I don’t profit off their pain.”

Red haze washed across my vision. I hated her more than anyone in this world—but hate wasn’t a strong enough word.

A dark presence seemed to reach out, responding to that rage and hatred.

The manor shook, and Jack and Carson muttered, looking up at the ceiling.

Nobody else saw the shadows creeping up the cellar stairs, a billowing cloud of fury. Voraal’s eyes flashed with fury as he looked down at the cowering woman, the filthy liar, his claws stretching out to grasp her—

“No.” I didn’t speak it aloud, my voice gone.

He was here, in front of everyone.

And nobody saw.

But Eloise followed my gaze, nearly stumbling on the stairs as she craned her head and saw the claws and shadows surrounding her.

Lightning cracked outside, the lights in the house fizzling out in a flash. Everyone shouted in the sudden darkness as the storm rolled in, our electricity fried.

“No, Voraal,” I whispered. I didn’t want him to hurt her.

She didn’t deserve to die; she should live a lifetime of shame for what she had done to others.

The monster glared down at her, his fangs parted. Eloise was frozen, shaking as she took in the horns and fangs…

And the shadows receded. Soon there was nothing but natural darkness in the kitchen, and I felt Voraal’s presence wink out into the Void.

But as Porter flicked on a flashlight from the emergency cabinet, the light swinging around to train on Eloise and me, I saw the waxen sheen of her corpse-white skin.

She was clutching at her chest with her skeletal fingers, mouth gaping open, eyes bulging behind her glasses.

“Heart…” she wheezed.

Everyone launched into action, me included.

I hated her, but as Porter thrust the flashlight into my hands, ripping an emergency kit open, I lowered her to the floor with Carson’s help.

Porter’s hands were shaking as he wrenched open a bottle of aspirin, rattling the pills in a manic tattoo, and I helped support Eloise as he tried to get one in her mouth.

But her jaw was clenched tight with pain, fingers clutched at the collar of her shirt.

A line of drool ran from her mouth, eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling.

I drew in a breath, my chest tight and aching.