Chapter 25 · The Last Lock

The woman behind the glass had my mother's face.

Not close enough to make it a trick. Not a vague resemblance. Her mouth. The tiny scar through one eyebrow. The silver chain at her throat that I remembered tugging on when I was five and stupid enough to think adults couldn't break.

She pressed one hand to the glass.

"Nia," she said.

My knees almost gave out.

Then Julian made a sound behind me.

Not a word. More like somebody trying to breathe with a fist around their throat.

I spun.

Black chains pinned him against the far wall. They ran over his wrists, his chest, one around his throat. The curse had crawled up from under his shirt and spread across his neck in dark branching lines. His eyes were open, but wrong. Too dark. Too empty.

"Julian." I ran to him.

"Don't." His voice scraped out raw. "Nia, don't touch the chains."

"Yeah, great advice. Maybe say it before they hang you up like a haunted Christmas decoration."

I stopped a foot away anyway.

The chains were moving.

Not swinging. Breathing.

Each black link tightened, then loosened, like it had a pulse. The smell hit me next.