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Lingering in the shadows across the street, I watch Yaroslava and Mir talk. I can't hear them, they can't see me. There's not enough magic in the air, so I'm nothing but another shadow for them. For everyone in the world of the living.

I watch them get in the car and leave the morgue territory. This time, I follow. Quiet as death, smooth as the wind, swift as a flicker of lightning. I should probably be more careful not to approach Mir too close, even with his magic switched off, he can still sense my presence. I can't risk Yara finding out about me. She still believes I'm her friend.

I'm not that sure.

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Three years and six months ago

The last time I saw Vlad, we met by the river. It took some effort for me to wade through the forest alone, to the riverbank, to that particular curvy slope, where we used to come with Yara when we were kids. My wheelchair wasn't made for field trips. Still, I managed to arrive early. I just sat and watched the waters, splashing and rippling and shining under the sun. Despite the winter cold, the river was too fast, too untamed, not frozen.

"You wanted to see me." Vlad's voice echoed behind me. I didn't hear him coming, I'd never had. But I knew he would come. "Why?"

Because I'm exhausted.

I wasn't angry with Yara for lying to me anymore, I was just...tired. Tired of being alone. I'd spent hours awake at night after Yara had told me about her powers. Maybe she wasn't that guilty after all? Guilty of what, really? Of wanting to be more than people expected her to be? For knowing I wouldn't understand her? For escaping this sad little town?

I swallowed without turning to face Vlad. My heart thumped in my chest at the words I was about to say. "I want to be like you. I want magic."

There was a long pause before he answered.

"No."

The intensity in his voice shook me. I blinked, staring at the river gurgling down below. The depth underwater didn't scare me, but I was terrified of the slope. It reminded me of the cliff I fell from when I was small, the cliff that made me a cripple. Of my curse.

Not a curse, but a test of your patience and faith, my granny would have said.

Nervous, I turned my wheelchair around, only to find the same determined refusal written across Vlad's face. "No," he repeated. A stern dark figure standing between the white snowy trees.

"Why?"

Vlad hadn't changed since I last saw him, not much at least. His hair was still golden, caressed by the lazy sun, his back straight, a challenging glint in his eyes. As though he had nine lives and wasn't afraid of anything. "And why would I, Dan?"

I guessed I hadn't changed, too. My life definitely hadn't. And it was killing me. No purpose, no progress, no hope--that was what my life was like. An endless loop. "Because I'm asking. Yara asked, didn't she? And you didn't hesitate."

He took a step forward, snow squeaking under his boots. "You're right, I chose to give her magic. Because she needed it." Another step. "Do you remember when I first met you two? Yara had two bruises on her face while you had a fancy book in your hands. She was afraid, you were bored. She needed a weapon to fight, and you have no enemies still."

I shifted in my chair, uneasy under his hard gaze. "I thought we were friends."

"We are, Dan. We are, and that's why I'm saying no. Magic won't solve your problems."

"And Yara and you? Are you two friends?"

Something flashed in his eyes then. Not the sunlight. Something dark. He suddenly looked less confident but hid it well. "I hope so," he said, taking another step toward me. There were less than ten paces between us now. I didn't like him nearing, I would have backed away, but I was too close to the edge.

"So she never kissed you?" I asked. "You never touched her, huh?"

He stopped. It was obvious to see, the emotions rising in his eyes as he thought of my questions. I saw those same emotions in his eyes when he looked at Yara in the hospital yard, those same emotions in her eyes when she looked at him. You didn't look at friends like that.

I never understood everyone's need for intimacy, the urge to touch and to feel. It was always about being understood for me, about having someone to talk to, to share my thought and the world with. "Your magic took Yara from me. You took her from me."

Vlad's lips set in a grim line for a moment. "No, you pushed her away," he said. The wind ruffling his hair made him look testy, like a thundercloud before the storm. "You wanted her to be broken, lonely, and hiding in her own little world, just like you do. You hoped she'd stay with you for the rest of her life because she had nowhere to go and nobody to be. And now you are angry because she chose to be something bigger than a scared kid." He pauses, his gaze focusing on some unfathomable thought, staring right through me. "Maybe she still is a scared kid, though. And even the magic couldn't fix that."

Anger leaped up to my throat. I didn't know what infuriated me more--that he called me a scared kid or Yara? She wasn't scared. She was formidable. And I want that, too. I suspected Vlad would refuse, but I didn't think his words would strike so hard. Like a slap on my cheek. My eyes darted over my shoulder, to the shimmering river waters. It reminded me of my fall off a cliff. Of pure despair.

A test of your patience and faith.

Gulping the cool air, I thought of the crucifix hanging around my neck. I felt it, warm and heavy against my skin. Too heavy. I didn't want this test anymore.

But I couldn't leave this place. I had nowhere to go. Nobody was waiting for me anywhere. And I really wanted to go somewhere. Anywhere. To see the world.

Magic could solve that problem.

My hand slipped into my pocket, and I brought out a folded old paper. It was a page from the book Vlad once gave me to read. That leather-bound tome with no title and a silver poppy on the cover. One particular page I'd ripped out before returning the book to Vlad that summer. When I'd ripped it out, I'd merely thought of Yara. That she might like what had been written there and try the ritual. I'd never wanted to try it myself.

Not until now.

The poem was wickedly beautiful, though.

Little one, little one,

Are you asleep?..

"You must remember you gave me this book before you gave it to Yara, Vlad," I said, unfolding the paper and staring down at the words. "And you must remember that this book described more than just one way to acquire magic."

My heart kept hammering against my ribs, faster and faster. Vlad should have sensed it by now, should have tried to calm me down and coax me into leaving the river bank. He couldn't. And I saw clearly when he realized that--his impassive mask cracked, alarm washing across his face.

"Dan, what have you done?"

What I have always wanted. I pushed myself off my chair, collapsing to the ground as my legs refused to work. A flurry of snow flashed before my eyes, covering my jacket and jeans. It was cold under my fingertips--and hot at the same time. Hot with blood trickling down my right hand. Once you cut a sigil scar on your skin, it didn't stop bleeding until you bled to death or until magic filled your veins.

"Dan?" Vlad started toward me, but I stopped him with a wave of my reddened hand. I was inches away from the river's edge. If I shifted my weight, I might as well fall. Vlad saw it, too, and he saw I wasn't bargaining with him anymore. His face paled. "No."

"Yes."

...Come

To the river,

When the moonlight is fey.

Come

Watch the river,

The dead have gathered to play...

"Magic can't heal what wasn't damaged by magic," Vlad said. "It can't amend the mistake of your shitty parents who didn't watch when you fell from a cliff."

I laughed, crumpling the page and the rhymes in my hand. "You think this is what it's about? Why does it seem to be more everyone's problem than mine? I don't seek amends. And maybe if not for that cliff, I'd have grown up just as shitty person as my parents." I would have never met Yara, I would have never summoned the courage to quit waiting and--live.

Vlad's alarm slowly transformed into fear as he watched me look at the deep waters down the slope. I'd never seen him afraid before. And I was terrified, too. Perhaps I only saw my own fear mirrored in his face.

I didn't want it, but there was no other way now. We both knew it. I did it on purpose, I'd carved the scar earlier in the morning, knowing what the book had warned me about--if you waited for too long, there was no coming back. Not from magic. Not from Hell.

The poem kept ringing in my head:

...The river is still,

Yet the river is fast,

The water is everything the dead never last...

"I thought you believed in God, Dan," Vlad said quietly. Another gust of wind carried his words away, past me. He didn't try to approach now. He dropped to sit on the ground, meeting my eyes. "Doesn't your God teach you that what you're about to do is a sin?"

White spots danced before my eyes, I was running out of air, blood pooling around me and ruining the perfectly white blanket of snow. Reaching for the leather cord under my chin, I yanked it off. The leather didn't resist much, and the crucifix was in my hand a second later. "And what do you think I'm about to do, Vlad? Or are you afraid I'll be more powerful than you?"

...The water's our blood,

Our bones, our fire,

Burning all secrets, leaving nothing but ire...

"Demons can't be humans, Dan. If you've read that book, you remember it. You'll lose your humanity. No feelings. And believe me, feeling nothing hurts, too."

Even better. No despair, no loneliness.

Mirrors were the windows to the world of the dead, yet the water was a portal. A portal to a place that could grant me all magic possible, a power beyond my dreams. An eternity to spend as I pleased. No boundaries, no rules, no regrets. God has a plan, Granny used to say. So how could I know that this wasn't the plan all along? That I was meant to meet Vlad, to read that book, to end up crippled and lonely so I'd finally have the courage to do what was necessary? This was what I'd been waiting for. My opportunity. I never wanted to be a villain or a hero. I wanted to be a gray cardinal who ruled the game.

"Dan, no! You can't--"

Before Vlad finished his words, I leaned forward and jumped.

...Little one, little one,

Are you dying?

No, I was finally getting to live.

Forever.

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Now

The car jerks to a stop as Adélard parks in a dark alley next to the back door of an old apartment building. Mir's home. I blur behind a tree, watching the three of them carry Jasna's body inside.

And I can't enter with them, because that lawyer's son is smart. Not that smart, though. Does he think if he suppresses his powers, I won't find another way to step into the world of the living? He should think twice, I smile to myself. Yara still thinks I'm her friend. And she'll do anything to help me.

"Mir, what is it?" Yara's voice rings through the dark.

I hold my breath--an old habit--when I see Mir stop on the porch, his hand clutching to his heart. Damn it. I should have been more careful. Whirling in place, I duck deeper into the shadows of the alley, but it's no use now. Yara can't sense my presence, but Mir Praejis can.

His eyes burning with fury, Mir stares right at the shadow I am.

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