Chapter 29 · The Back Door She Left

The blade was already moving when Rowan grabbed my wrist.

Not toward me. Past me. A black shape cut through the theater's service door, and Rowan slammed it aside with one hand. The lock-key hit the metal frame instead of her chest. The whole building screamed.

Every light in the old theater snapped on at once.

I hit the floor hard enough to bite my tongue. Copper filled my mouth. Somewhere above us, the dead stage lamps burst into white beams, and the speakers coughed out a blast of static that rattled my ribs.

"Stay down," Rowan said.

She stood between me and the doorway, silver hair stuck to her face with blood. Her shoulders were bare except for torn black fabric and thin lines of blue light crawling under her skin. The glow pulsed with every breath.

She looked like a person who had been dragged through a war zone and then told to smile for the camera.

The thing outside the door looked worse.

It stepped into the spill of stage light wearing a gray corporate coat and a mask with no mouth. Three rings of red light spun around its head.