I felt him before I saw him. His need was a siren's call, luring any human life toward it. In just a few days, things like preference would stop mattering to the demon attached to his soul. It would only matter that it was human and capable of desire. That was probably why he'd chosen the island for this little suicide run. Things instinctively avoided this place, so the chances an innocent would set foot on the island while he was still living were slim. Even if his hunger took over, he'd be too disoriented to operate the boat and make it back to shore. He'd planned to die here.

I just couldn't fathom why. Yes, he'd taken the fall for my actions, but I'd set everyone straight. No one blamed him for Daniel's death. My father had reached out, trying to give him a little bit of assurance. No reply. Yes, he was distraught about Harry's passing, but I hadn't sensed that it was this bad. What had the mysterious attacker done to twist him to this degree? What was powerful enough to turn a mind against itself, to the point he was willing to commit slow, painful suicide?

I could think of one force that could manage it. I hoped I was wrong, but my gut told me I was on the right track. I trusted my gut.

The trees thinned as I approached the sheer cliff face, which was something of a relief. The thick press of trees reminded me unpleasantly of the last time I'd been here, fleeing for my life from another of the Fallen. When Namshiel's strangler spell choked off my air, I'd been sure that the last thing I'd see was the blurry outline of trees and a patchwork of stars. I still remembered my father's prone form, his blood staining the snow-frosted ground as Magog crushed his leg. One of the worst nights of my life was imprinted on the ground of this place. I just needed to find Thomas, incapacitate him, undo the damage, and get the hell out of Dodge.

But when I emerged from the tree line, I found only an empty stretch of land waiting for me. The cliff was there, just like the spirit had shown me, but Thomas was gone. I picked up my pace, moving toward the edge with my heart in my throat. Had Thomas decided that dashing himself against the rocks was an easier death than starvation? I thought I'd felt him, but it was entirely possible that the death was so recent I was sensing the last echoes of his energy. This place was like a sponge, soaking up every negative emotion like a taproot before feeding it to the rest of the island. I kept expecting something horrible and carnivorous to bloom as a result.

I cautiously peered over the edge. The water lapped at the rocks far below, too deep and fast-moving to freeze over, even in winter. There weren't any obvious disturbances, and no evidence a body had hit the rocks. I extended my wizard's senses, just in case, and found that there were dead things in the water, but nothing large enough to be a White Court vampire. Thomas wasn't gone. Not yet. I breathed a sigh of relief, stepping back onto less precarious ground.

I only had a second's warning something was coming. Something large and predatory, and intent on me. If I'd closed myself off, there was no way I'd have been able to turn in time. But I had, and I did, just in time to catch a flash of pale, silvery skin. I murmured a word, extending my hand toward it seconds before a shape descended on me from the trees.

The air left Thomas' lungs in a surprised gust as he rebounded off my shield, but that alone wasn't enough to take him down. He recovered quickly, twisting in the air like a cat, landing on his feet a yard away. I had my sword out and held at port arms a moment later. He paused, not in consideration for my safety, but as a predator considering its prey. There was a rational part of him that fought against the insistent call of his demon, and a smaller, but insidious thought that wasn't his own urged him toward me, intent on only one thing. Satiation. Control. It was all bound up with possession and a sliver of concern, anchoring it to his psyche. He couldn't have pried it loose if he tried.

But I could. I had to.

Muscles in his face spasmed as he fought not to leap at me. A modicum of sanity entered his eyes and he gritted out a strained, "Leave."

"No," I said, shifting my weight. My toes were numb, and the rest wouldn't be far behind. "I promised Justine I'd bring you back. You remember Justine right? The love of your life? You can't do this to her, Thomas."

Lines around his eyes tightened, but his posture didn't change. "I have to. You don't understand."

"Enlighten me, then."

"Leave," he repeated.

But the demon had other ideas. I could feel it like a caress on over-sensitized skin. It made my back arch a little, my nipples harden from desire, not just the cold. When I shifted my weight it was to alleviate the tension in my body, not to improve my aim. He was a coiled spring, ready to snap, and I had to let him. It was a calculated risk, but I had to take it. There was more than one reason that I'd left Freydis at the boat. She'd consider the loss of a potential asset too great and would pluck him off me. She might even knock his block off for good measure.

But at the same time, I couldn't just throw myself under Thomas. His demon couldn't sense the trap before it was sprung, or it would never take the bait. Worse, a straightforward move like that could trip the programming, stripping him of his sanity completely. I couldn't kill another person I loved. Never again.

Thomas' eyes had bled completely to silver and tracked me as I circled, trying to move closer. He caught it when I placed my foot badly and stumbled. And then he was on me, riding me to the ground, pinning me with his weight. His bulk was welcome and familiar, and for a moment I considered letting him take me. It was easier than what I'd have to do, and the possible ramifications to follow.

It was an effort to push the silver-tongued whisper of demon out of my thoughts, and when I finally managed it, Thomas had batted the sword from my hand and was undoing the ties of my trench coat. But when he tried to hike the red silk nightie around my thighs, he hissed in pain, blackened blisters popping across his fingers and palms. Justine had looked unhappy when I proposed the plan but loaned me pieces from her closet like I'd asked. Every piece but the trench coat was something that Thomas had bought for birthdays, anniversaries, or steamy nights in the Caribbean. All tokens of his affection for Justine were imbued with the protection he'd given her. Love. The anathema of the White Court, and perhaps the only thing that could save him now.

His reaction gave me the opening I needed. Thomas' head snapped to the side when I hit him with a right cross. I felt something crunch, and couldn't be sure if it was his jaw or my knuckles. Hitting him hurt like hell, as if I'd just punched a cinder block. It did its job, knocking him off balance. I lifted a knee up to my chest and then planted my boot in his chest, knocking him off me. In one swift movement, I'd rolled him onto his back and straddled his waist.

I hit him again. And again. And a few more times for good measure, until his eyes rolled back into his head and his limbs went slack under me. I waited, just in case he was playing possum. When he didn't stir, I leaned over him, splaying my hands over his temples, eyes sliding shut.

"I'm sorry about this, Thomas," I whispered.

I reached for my power and slowly, carefully, peeled apart the knot that had formed in his psyche. I found exactly what I'd expected at its source. A little compulsion, wrapped around an illusion with my name on it. I couldn't scoop it free without addressing it, so I let it settle over me.

Heat soaked into my hair, the blazing summer sun turning the inside of my eyelids red. My head was pillowed on a soft shoulder, and errant curls brushed one side of my face. Brine tickled my nose, and the lap of water against the side of a boat was almost soothing enough to lull me to sleep. It was a memory of a long-ago day when I'd gone out on a sailboat with Hannah and Nixon. A rare day off, and one of the few days unmarked by bloodshed. I treasured it.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself almost nose-to-nose with a familiar, beloved face. Wildly curling red hair. A smattering of freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose. A sweet, heart-shaped face with perfect petal lips. It was the illusionary self she'd always projected in my head. I'd missed it more than I cared to admit.

"You know that normal people call or write when they want to talk. This cat's paw shit is getting old."

Lasciel smiled faintly. "It's difficult to get your attention any other way. Listen to what I have to say, and the vampire will come to no harm. I only desired that he keep you in one place long enough to talk. He would have kept you under long enough for Hannah and I to arrive. But I planted this, in the event you found us out."

I scooted down the bench, putting distance between our bodies. It felt good to touch her, and I couldn't afford the temptation. I crossed my arms over my chest, glowering at her.

"Fine. Let's talk."