"We have a problem," Jake said.

He stood with Jones in the doorway of the auction room, staring at the piles of clothes that were all that remained of the other auction guests. Jones plucked a cloth doll from one of the piles and held it out by its arm. "This is so creepy," he muttered.

"Flynn, look at this," Jake said, following Jones into the hall to join the others. David was still standing by the door, keeping watch through the windows, while Flynn sat cross-legged on the floor beside Cindi.

"Looks like a poppet," Flynn said, taking the doll from Jones's pinched fingers. "You can cast animation spells on homemade dolls, send them to do your bidding. Mostly harmless stuff—kitchen witches using them to run errands, that kind of thing." He poked at the featureless face and frowned. "But they take quite a bit of energy to maintain, and there were dozens of guests. That makes the Curator a powerful magic-user."

"How am I not surprised?" Jones muttered.

Unease stirred in Jake's gut. Magic was dangerous in well-intentioned hands—it could be downright catastrophic in the hands of someone who wanted to cause harm. They still didn't know what the Curator wanted, and the disappearance of the other guests meant the auction had to be some kind of trap.

But why?

And why hadn't David and Cindi disappeared with the others?

Jake looked at the woman huddled beside Flynn. He would have liked to give her time to recover, but they couldn't afford to wait anymore. He crouched to put himself on her level and set a gentle hand on her knee. "Cindi," he said softly. "You said you were here for the auction, but that's obviously not true. Do you work for the Curator?"

She took a shaky breath and lifted her head, fixing him with a teary look. "You're the real Jacob Stone? Who was the other one?"

"My brother, Eliot."

"He saved my life," she murmured.

Jake glanced at Flynn. "Yeah, he does that. Cindi, I need you to focus. Why are you here?"

She put her head down. He thought she would evade again, but after a moment she sucked in a breath, lifted her face, and spoke in a trembling voice. "My name is Cindi Martin, and I swear I don't know anything about the Curator. I wasn't supposed to be here at all, but no one else was available. I work for—"

The front door shattered. Broken glass and wood splinters burst like shrapnel through the hall, crashing off the walls, clattering across the floor. David cried out and fell back, shielding his face as he hit the ground. Jake rose to one knee, ready to rush to him, but he stopped short when he saw it.

At first glance, it looked like a man—or the shadow of a man—a figure made of black smoke, writhing and swirling like it wanted to escape the confines of its humanoid shape. Then he noticed the arms, which stretched down past the figure's knees, hanging limp at either side. And then the figure looked at him, and a gash opened up where the mouth should have been, and Jake stopped noticing anything.

He was going to die. Worse, he was going to watch his friends die, and then when he was alone and broken and lost, it would come for him. The sound of a shrieking wind filled his head, urged him to run—laughed at the thrill of the chase. I am inevitable, it said in his mind. I am patient. I am ready to play.

But someone was crying. Jake turned his head, searching reflexively for the sound, and found Cindi clinging to his hand and sobbing for him not to leave her. Leave? Yes, he'd been about to run—the figure wanted to pursue, and for that he needed to run. With his eyes focused on something other than the creature, a pinprick of consciousness pierced the blackness in his mind. He blinked and gripped Cindi's hand tighter. She needed help.

He needed to help her.

"Come on," he rasped. He pulled her upright and stumbled over Flynn, frozen on the floor beside her. He drove his knee into Flynn's shoulder, pushing him over to break eye contact with the Nalusa Falaya. "Help me with her," he shouted. A new thought occurred to him, and he threw a careful look over his shoulder. "Get Jones. I'll go back for David."

David was face down on the floor at the Nalusa Falaya's feet, but if Jake kept himself from looking directly at it, he could maintain a fragile hold on his senses. The creature hadn't moved. It could have stretched out one skeletal arm and seized David, but it simply stood in the doorway and waited. Watched. Jake felt its attention on him as he inched toward his friend, keeping his focus on the way David's shoulders rose and fell with each breath. His own chest ached as his heart thrashed against his ribcage, and black dots blurred his vision with the effort of not looking at anything above David's back. His hands prickled, his feet felt numb, but he was halfway there, forcing his legs to move in the opposite direction they wanted to go—David took another breath. He was getting dizzy, and somewhere, dimly, he was aware that he was experiencing the symptoms of a panic attack, but David was only a few feet away, and Jake crouched carefully and clawed at his friend's arm.

"Get up," he forced out. "Come on. We gotta go."

David lifted his head, surprise flashing across his face. "Jake?"

"Come on." A shadow had descended over them, but Jake kept his eyes fixed on David's. "Get up. Now."

It was there, in the corner of Jake's eye, hovering just at the edge of his perception. The hairs on his arms lifted, anticipating the icy darkness that would creep over him any second. He hauled David upright and jerked him back toward the others. Don't look. Don't look. Look and you're lost.

But nothing stopped him as he dragged David away, and after a few strained heartbeats, they caught up to the others in the auction room. He fell into the room, panting as Jones slammed the door behind them and stared at Jake with wild eyes.

"What was that?" he demanded shrilly. "Was that the—the—whatever?"

Jake doubled over, dragging in harsh breaths and trying to clear his still-spotting vision. David threw his back against the door and slid down it until he could look up into Jake's face. "I think we're safe now," he gasped. "It didn't follow us."

No. Why didn't it? It had wanted to chase them, so why stay by the door when they ran? He looked at Jones, who'd been farthest from the creature, and took in his pale face and tight shoulders. He looked at Flynn, sitting on a chair beside a weeping Cindi, and watched him struggle for control over his breathing. And he looked at David, who was barely winded, who wasn't sweating, who waited patiently for Jake's response.

He fought to keep his voice level. "Why didn't it follow us, David?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"Don't you think it's a little convenient?" he said, straightening. "That the Nalusa Falaya just happened to come in when Cindi was about to say who she was? A brush with that thing turned her into... well, that." He gestured unsteadily. "And you were closer than any of us, but you're fine."

David frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I think you know what I'm saying."

For a long moment, David just stared at him, but when Jake didn't back down he heaved a sigh. "You're as sharp as ever, Jake. Usually I can keep this going before anyone figures out, but I had a feeling you'd be a challenge."

Jake swore under his breath. He should have seen it sooner—everything had always pointed to him—but he hadn't wanted to believe David was involved.

"Don't blame yourself," David said, as if reading his mind. "You put too much faith in people, that's all. It's why the Curator chose me for this assignment—you weren't meant to suspect me."

"That supposed to make me feel better?" Jake snapped.

David shrugged and climbed to his feet. "Kinda. I still consider you a friend. As long as you do what the Curator wants, you won't be in any real danger."

"And what does the Curator want?" Jones asked, moving to Jake's side.

"You should be getting that any minute now," David said. "But I think we can all agree that I've worn out my welcome. It was good to see you, Jake, really. Sorry for this."

David punched him—a blow to the jaw that Jake should have been able to block, but he didn't see it coming. He stumbled against Jones, who caught him clumsily while David threw open the door and bolted into the hall.

"Don't—" Jones said, wrestling Jake back as he tried to follow. He slammed the door and put his back against it, shaking. "That thing's still out there."

A burst of anger had overpowered Jake's fear, but Jones's words brought back his sense. There was no point in chasing David if he'd summoned the creature. He swore again, dragging a hand through his hair and then slamming it against the door.

"It can't get in, right?" Jones said quietly.

"Not until David tells it to," Jake bit out. He rounded on Cindi and started to snap out a question, but he stopped short when he saw her face. She was folded in on herself like crumpled paper, her eyes blank and staring, and it settled his anger into something less explosive. He started toward her and made his voice as calm as his pounding heart could manage. "What are you doing here?"

"Give her a minute," Flynn said.

"We don't have a minute." Jake took the chair next to her and turned it so he could sit on it backwards with his arms resting on the back. She blinked up at him from eyes that seemed unnaturally large in her white face. "Cindi," he said firmly. "You're important, or David wouldn't have tried to interrupt you. We need to know why you're here."

"Look at her," Jones said from the door. "I doubt she can remember her own name right now."

Flynn nodded. "We should wait. In a little while, we can—"

"You can stop talking about me like I'm not sitting right here," Cindi said. Her eyes focused on Jake, sharpening as she spoke in a brittle voice. "This isn't what I signed up for. And if you can stop that—that—thing, then I'll tell you everything."

"Let's start with why you're here," Jake said.

She scrubbed the heel of her hand over her eyes. "The Curator contacted us. She wanted help finding an artifact called the Gifts of the Magi, but we didn't have any information about it in our databases."

"Who's we?" Jones asked.

Cindi opened her mouth, but before she could answer, Jake's phone rang. He yanked it from his pocket and jabbed at the screen, praying for good news. "Baird?"

"Hey," she said. "We have a problem."

"Yeah. That's the understatement of the century."

"Is everyone okay?" she asked, her tone instantly worried.

Jake glanced at Cindi. "We're hanging in there. What's your problem?"

"This whole thing is a trap," Eve said. "The Curator set up the auction to lure us out. She's got Alex and Cassie."

"Where?"

"I don't know. They're looking for something called—"

"The Gifts of the Magi?"

She paused. "How'd you know?"

"David. Turns out he's working for the Curator."

"Great."

"And Cindi was just about to tell us who she's working for," Jake added. He put the phone on speaker and nodded to her in what he hoped was an encouraging way.

She squared her shoulders to face Jake and set her jaw. "DOSA. I work for DOSA."

Eve swore. In the background on her end, Jake heard Eliot ask, "What's DOSA?"

"Department of Statistical Anomalies," she said. "We've had a couple of run-ins with them. What is DOSA doing here?"

"I was sent to gather information on the Curator," Cindi said. "That's all. It was just supposed to be a reporting mission—I've never even been in the field before."

"Heck of a first time out," Flynn muttered.

"And what did you find out?" Eve asked.

Cindi shook her head. "Nothing. I got a letter when I arrived telling me to go to the auction hall and wait, and then I saw Dr. Stone and decided to follow him to see what I could get from him, but… but I guess that was your brother, so I still have nothing."

"Take me off speaker," Eve said. Jake obeyed and held the phone back up to his ear. "Can you trust her?"

He looked at Cindi, who stared back at him while tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. He wanted to trust her, but how could he? If the Curator knew enough about him to find an old friend from college, she'd have known that Cindi was exactly the kind of person he wanted to believe: scared, in over her head, and trying anyway. His eyes darted to Flynn and Jones, hoping to find an answer to Eve's question on their faces, but they weren't looking at him. Their eyes were on the door, their expressions still pinched with fear. Fear he'd caused by exposing them to David.

"Stone?" Eve said.

He swallowed. "I don't know."

"Just… stay where you are," Eve sighed. "I'll find Cassie and Alex. Okay?"

"Okay," Jake said. Eve ended the call, leaving Jake to blink emptily at her name on his screen. Stay where you are. He looked at the door and felt the dread mounting like steam inside him.

He couldn't have left if he tried.