JENNIE

"You are restrained," a man warned as I floated on the cusp of consciousness. His voice served as a steadying anchor, drawing me back when I only wanted to drift.

Lisa? No. Someone sly, their accent thicker.

"Try not to panic," he insisted. "You're wounded, and frankly, I'd rather not have to bandage you again. So deep breaths and all of that. Prepare yourself, my dear. It isn't pretty."

I stirred, fighting to remember how to control my limbs. All senses felt cut off from my brain as if locked behind a wall with no key. In vain, I tried to flex my hands. Blink. Anything.

"You were poisoned," the speaker continued as my thoughts spun, still hunting for a name. "With something known as Ergot—best to get that out of the way. It's a rare compound known to inspire all sorts of nasty things in those who ingest too much of it. Paranoia. Hallucinations. Psychosis. It builds up in the blood, you see. Slowly, over time. Months. Years. Though, judging from your recent state, you've managed to receive a full dose in mere weeks. An impressive feat, I must say. Admittedly, I should have guessed from your rather thrilling reaction to my little lie that your mental state may have been exceedingly delicate." He sighed in admiration.

An image formed in my brain of a handsome, angular face. Hair the color of blood. Shifting eyes.

"No bother! I'm not the only one who overlooked your symptoms. Manoban may be an arrogant bastard, but I know she tested the blood she gave to you. You're just lucky she caught on before you finished severing your hand. That might have made things a tad unpleasant."

I finally managed to open my eyes. Blurred and unfocused, it took them several seconds to clearly interpret the figure before me. But that mocking grin required no introduction. Dmitri.

"Where…" My throat ached as I tried to speak. "Where is Lisa?"

"Off getting more bandages in case you reopen your wounds, I suspect," Dmitri replied. He almost resembled a different person without his playful sneer. "You scared the hell out of her. Dare I say, that's quite the feat, given her rather fearsome reputation." He didn't even chuckle. Hell, as his eyes took on a wistful gleam, he almost appeared…impressed? "And yes, this is a lot of information at once—I apologize—but this is the fifth iteration of this damn speech I've delivered and I pray, for both our sakes, that you aren't faking your sanity this time."

Faking? I eyed the room beyond him, increasingly uneasy. It wasn't mine. And the rich, golden décor didn't resemble something Lisa would own, either. It boasted of more exotic tastes, far beyond typical elegance. Above me, a vaulted ceiling sported a gruesome fresco—a horde of angels slaughtering an opposing army.

I swallowed hard, tearing my eyes from the chaotic scene. "Where am I?"

"Hell," Dmitri replied. Sitting on a gilded chair near the bed, he snatched a book from a nearby table. With a casual flick of his wrist, he flipped through the pages. "I never thought I'd ever see a day when Lisa would willingly return to the enclave, to be honest." He eyed me with a thoughtful frown before turning yet another page. "Then again, I never thought I would join her in said enclave. You, my dear, have provided quite the adventure."

Enclave? I tried to sit up, but my arms resisted any movement. Literally—not for lack of trying. The harder I strained my wrists, the more I felt the weight of resistance. Something encircled each one, rendering them immobile.

"Manacles," Dmitri admitted. "Or at least silken ones. Your Lisa refused to let me use the metal pair after you tried slipping out of them."

I couldn't remember anything he'd mentioned. Panic bubbled out of me on a single word. "W-Why?"

"To keep you from killing yourself, of course." Sighing, he set his book aside and propped his chin on his fist, sitting forward. "Ergot is a powerful poison. It lingers in the blood and renders the mind susceptible to all manner of disturbing hallucinations. For instance, when you had no luck cutting your hand off, you tried clawing out your throat. As you can imagine, it made for quite the mess. You're lucky that I happened to arrive in time," he added smugly. "There is only one antidote for Ergot, and I happen to be among the few in the world skilled enough to make it. Which reminds me…" He tutted with his tongue and stood, smoothing his hands along his suit, a brilliant indigo. On the same small table as the book rested a teacup, which he lifted by the handle and lowered to my lips. "It's time for your next dose, my darling. Do drink up."

I clenched my jaw shut.

He sighed heavily. "Come now, Jennie. I really don't want to force-feed you your medicine." His eyes flashed a menacing green. "Again."

His words were too much to process all at once as a million realizations washed over me. Tried to kill yourself. Ergot. Blade. Poison. Lisa. Gone. Gone.

When he lowered the cup to my mouth again, I squirmed helplessly, resisting my binds. "Get away from me—"

"It's all right."

That voice… I turned toward it, my heart aching—but when I finally spotted Lisa advancing toward me, she looked…

Haggard.

Hollow circles swallowed her eyes, though she didn't require sleep. The unusual color enhanced the planes of her face in gaunt relief. For a horrifying second, she looked every bit her age. Centuries of pain and exhaustion clinging to a human form. Then her eyes met mine and her entire expression softened.

She became my Devil again, wary and distant.

"Drink it," she said, nodding to Dmitri. "It's all right."

A part of me wanted to rail against the commands. It wanted to shriek and scream and demand answers.

Why was my skull on fire? Why was I shivering even beneath mounds of blankets? Why did my throat taste like dirt?

And why, oh why, was my arm throbbing like hell?

My throat provided another dose of agonizing pain. The skin burned with every breath as if rubbed raw. Or, if Dmitri was to be believed, clawed at by a madwoman with brittle nails.

"Jennie," Lisa rasped. "Drink."

For the moment, I chose the safety of her baritone over questioning. As Dmitri returned the rim of the cup to my lips, I obediently pried them apart. The liquid within smelled pungent, as if tinged with a million different spices. With the first sip, I realized where the gritty taste in my mouth had come from.

"It was a very clever method," Dmitri mused as I gulped at the tea. "Slow. Sustained over multiple hosts. He must have started not long after you began supplying her fresh blood." He eyed Lisa, smirking. "I used to muse which one of you two might best the other when you eventually did resume your trite little war games. Believe it or not, Lisa, but I always had my money on you. Mero could be cunning, but he had her boundaries. Even if he is using the other Kim girl as a pawn, like I suspect, I doubt he's killed her. Yet. You, on the other hand, were ruthless—"

"Enough." The growl lacked any of the intensity I was used to. In its absence, Lisa resembled a mere shadow of her former self. A specter on par with Raphael—a hollow soul, somewhere in between the man and monster. But as she turned her attention to me, some semblance of the Devil I knew returned again. Namely in her eyes as they flickered with an unreadable mixture of emotion. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," I rasped, my voice breaking.

"You should be right as rain in a few more days," Dmitri insisted. "Ergot is resistant but not infallible—"

"I need to speak to her alone." Lisa didn't even look at him, expecting his will be obeyed.

"Fine." Dmitri shrugged and headed for the doorway. "Though perhaps now isn't the best time to mention that you shouldn't trust all you see or hear, Jennie," he told me with a playful wink. "The Ergot is still in your bloodstream, after all."

His laugh echoed in his wake, but Lisa's voice easily overpowered it.

"Tell me what happened." She sat on the edge of the bed, her back to me, but her hand settled over my hip, palpable even through the heavy blankets. "From the beginning. Everything."

"I was hearing voices," I admitted. My throat felt sore from disuse. Just how long had I been beneath the spell of the drug?

"What did they say?" she prompted.

I hesitated, swiping my tongue along my dry, cracked lips. "That… That you hated me. That you didn't want me." I realized now just how insane it sounded out loud. "I think I knew I was being irrational, but I couldn't help it. It felt so real. I could hear it—"

"Telling you that I couldn't love you?" she didn't meet my gaze. Instead, she eyed the far wall, her jaw clenched. "You screamed that line the most."

I closed my eyes, hating the vicious memories as they teased the edges of my psyche. "How could this happen? Dmitri said—"

"You were poisoned," she said over me. "Right under my nose and I didn't even see it until it was almost too late."

As my eyes reopened, I found her watching me, lingering over my face. "Why?"

"To punish me." She sounded more resigned than vengeful. "I suspect that was his design all along, as far as you were concerned. Punish me."

"Why?"

"Why?" she laughed, shaking her head as if unsure how to even phrase the answer. "He… I loved him like a brother once," she admitted softly. "I trusted him above all others. Always. And you are his vehicle to punish me." The hand she rested over me withdrew, becoming a fist she slammed onto the mattress. "But he's overplayed his hand, and if he tries to hurt you again, I will kill him."

"Lisa…" I'd forgotten how formidable she could sound. How dangerous when confronted. Blazing silver eyes cut me to the bone as she held my gaze. "What about Rosé? Dmitri said she might be—"

"You need to focus on yourself for now," she warned. "Trust me on this."

It was as close to begging as someone like her might ever come—and despite her nearness, I sensed she could drift from me farther than ever if I pushed her away now.

And I wasn't the only one who needed her.

"I saw things too." The words almost hurt to say, conjuring a memory sharp with a pain I'd never ever felt. Longing. Fear. Guilt. "I saw… She was so beautiful…and I killed her." Panicked, I flexed my fingers, grasping at nothing. "I killed her—"

"It was a nightmare," she said, but it wasn't the truth. A nightmare was comparable to what I'd witnessed, but I'd rather burn alive than feel that pain again. "The drug should help you sleep without any more dreams. Get some rest."

I steeled myself for her to leave, but she found my hand, still bound to the bed, and grasped it tightly. She remained like that for only God knew how long.

Long after I surrendered to unconsciousness again.