“You . . . ,” Isobel said, her throat constricting.
“Us.”
And now she had her answer as to why Pinfeathers had returned. Lilith had brought him back to use as a weapon against her. Isobel had fulfilled her purpose, igniting the fuse that would send Varen on the rampage to destroy the veil and blend the two worlds. So the demon had deployed the Noc—Isobel’s lone would-be ally—as a final trap.
Hadn’t the Noc himself once confessed that he had to do whatever Lilith commanded?
“But . . . ,” Isobel murmured, her voice quavering, suddenly weak, “you wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t. I know you.”
“For your sake, my dear Isobel, I very much hope you do. Because we certainly no longer recognize ourselves.”
“You’re not going to hurt me,” she said, her voice channeling a resolve she didn’t feel. “Even if you tried, you wouldn’t be able to.”
“It’s good to know you harbor so much faith in us,” he replied. “Because it’s all too far gone now, including us—especially us. And unfortunately for you, I’m very sorry to say, aside from this”—slowly his hand trailed up her body, claws snagging the fabric of her T-shirt, grazing her skin through the thin material, stopping only when his crackled palm pressed over the hamsa—“believing in the best of us—that we have a best to believe in—is the only weapon you have left.”
Isobel placed a hand on his. “You don’t have to do what she says. You’ve already proven that once. You protected me. You would do it again.”
She felt his hand twitch. “What do you suppose I’m trying to do right now?” he asked, his voice trembling. He seemed just as afraid as she did.
“You can’t hurt me,” Isobel said, the conviction in her voice failing. “No matter what, you won’t be able to.”
l held her breath. She fought against a shudder, but unlike during her initial encounters with the Noc, she had no urge to pull away from him or to try to jerk free.
He wouldn’t harm her. She knew that. And though she wasn’t sure how she could be so certain, it didn’t change the fact that on some intrinsic level, she was.
“So she knows now,” Isobel said, more to herself than to the Noc, “that I’m alive.”
“As well as she knows you were never dead.”
Isobel blinked. Frowning, she clutched the arm that encircled her waist.
“Wait,” Pinfeathers said, speaking in a monotone, feigning disbelief, “don’t tell us you bought oil from that old snake again. Really, cheerleader, you have no discernment. No ability to see things the way they really are. Otherwise, you might have seen me coming. All of this. Everyone else did.”
So Reynolds had lied to her. About Lilith thinking she was dead. But why? Even if she hadn’t fully believed him, that he was on her side, she’d wanted to. Desperately.
“What’s happening?” Isobel asked. “Tell me.”
“But you know what’s happening.”
She wanted to spin in his grip and face him. When she tried, though, he only squeezed her more tightly, forbidding the movement.
“Then tell me how to stop it,” she pleaded. “Tell me you know how.”
“First, you’d have to stop us.”
“I keep trying. But he—you won’t believe me.”
“Oh, we want to,” he said. “We do. But then, it would destroy what’s left of us to find out we were wrong. And with the pain already too much to bear, why not just go ahead and eliminate the guesswork? And everything else along with it.”
“It’s not going to help, is it?” she asked, her shoulders sagging. “That’s what you’re saying. I can’t prove anything to him, can I?”
“No,” he said, laughing again, “but trying sure stirred the hornet’s nest, now, didn’t it?”
She jerked her head toward him and, in her mind, something clicked with those words.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Reynolds. She sent him to find me. She wanted me to go into the veil. She knew I would try to make him believe. They both did. She knew how Varen would react. What he would do. She knew. She—”
“Doesn’t need you anymore, FYI,” Pinfeathers whispered in her ear, the drop in his voice causing her blood to freeze. “But how to get rid of you. How? How to lure you in close? How to hurt you inside and out? And keep you from fighting back?”