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An unholy rage surged through me at the fear in the child’s eyes. A fear placed by the villain behind me. I slammed the back of my head into the priest’s nose. The stitches Ruan placed there earlier broke loose with a breathtaking stab of pain. He swore, letting go of me as he stumbled backward.

“The girl will cleanse our sins and purge this land!” He shouted at me, spittle flying from his lips as his blood ran down his face.

“The only sins here are yours. You killed her mother. You killed them all.”

He didn’t deny it. Not at all. He wiped at the blood from his nose with his cassock. “As I said, necessary sacrifices.”

He was the madman. Utterly. Raving mad. I scrambled over the desk to find something to hit him with, coming up empty. He grabbed me again, striking me hard in the belly, forcing the air out of my lungs in a whoosh.

What the devil?

I stumbled toward the stove as something hot and damp seeped through my blouse, running down my torso. The moisture pulsing with the beating of my heart. A searing pain followed. From outside the door, Ruan’s shouts were louder than ever. Calling my name as he beat upon the door.

The priest stabbed me …

My brows furrowed, not comprehending. The self-righteous bastard stabbed me. Father Crawford held the bloodied blade in his hand agape, as if he could not quite believe he’d done it either. His other murders had been far less gruesome than thrusting a blade into one’s opponent’s gut and watching her bleed out before him.

I placed my hand over the wound, holding my side as if it would keep the blood from escaping. I lost my balance, falling backward and reaching out for anything to catch myself—nearly forgetting the stove with the red-hot shovel still in it.

One moment was all I had. If that.

My vision grew black at the edges as my strength fled. But I swore by Ruan’s old gods if I was going to die today, I was taking Father Crawford with me. I would not let him harm that child, not so long as there was a drop of blood in my body. The darkness came hard and fast. But if I could buy Manon a handful of seconds, she might have a chance. Ruan would be here soon. He would take care of her. The gendarmerie must also be there … So many voices. So many sounds but only one came through. My mother’s voice whispering in the back of my mind. Soft as water over stones. Save her, Ruby. Do what I could not.

My pulse slowed, or perhaps time itself, as I grabbed ahold of the iron shovel from the stove, branding my skin at once. The scent of my burning flesh filled my nostrils as the pure iron rod seared through the skin of my palm. With one wild swing, I hit the villainous priest across the face. Pain ricocheted through my body with the contact, reverberating down to the wound in my side. Every fiber of my being rebelled against the metal in my hand. The priest’s head whipped around with the force of the blow, but he remained standing.

How was he still standing?

Manon screamed, reaching out for me as the world slowed. Embers from the shovel rained down upon the priest’s shoulders like an exploded shell over no man’s land.

I dropped the shovel onto the ground with a clatter. My hand oozing from the burn as I collapsed in a heap.

I’d failed.

I’d failed them all.

The air grew sharp with the scent of summer storms. The banging on the door unbearable. I began to count the seconds, holding on until Ruan was here. Until Ruan could protect her.

The priest tumbled over the pile of books he’d knocked over. Blood streamed down his face from where I’d hit him with the shovel, his own seared flesh similarly branded as my own.

Good.

Thud.

I drew in a shaky breath.

Thud.

I could scarcely hold my head up as death took over. Manon pressed her small palm flat against the wound. A brutal, raging cold surged through my body.

Father Crawford’s eyes grew wide, breath ragged, watching the two of us in horror. As if I were the monster in the room. The air grew sharper yet, electric and wild. Like it had been at the lake that night with Félix, threatening to consume me whole. My body hurt so badly, I might have allowed it.

“Do you not see?!” He shouted, laughing maniacally. “Can you not see what she is, why she must be mine?” But his laughter turned to screams as his robes caught fire, lit from a stray coal that had fallen into his pocket.

The pain and world around slipped into a terrible dream. It wouldn’t be long now. Death was coming. I began to count, struggling to hold on to the seconds. Willing myself to stay alive for just a moment longer. I wanted to see Ruan once more before I died. To know Manon would be safe.

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.

Crack.