Chapter 9 · Her Voice

“Mara.”

Her mother’s voice came through the crack in the black glass door.

Not loud. Not ghostly. Worse than that. Normal.

Like she was standing in the Voss kitchen with flour on her hands, calling Mara in because dinner was getting cold.

“Mara, don’t come closer.”

Ronan caught her around the waist before she could take a step.

His hand was hot through her jacket. Too hot. His chest pressed against her back, rising fast, and she could feel the hard beat of his heart against her spine.

“Let go,” Mara said.

“No.”

The word landed rough against her ear.

Across the narrow platform, Inez raised her iron blade. Blue curse-light crawled over the glass stairs behind them, moving slow now, like it had found what it came for and was enjoying itself.

The prison door stood at the end of the stairwell. Taller than the old Voss townhouse. Black glass from floor to ceiling, cracked right down the center.

And behind that crack, something moved.

Mara could not see a face. Just pale shapes. A hand. Maybe.

“Mara?” Her mother’s voice said again. Softer this time. “Baby, listen to me. You need to leave.