Luke grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the room, through the door, and into the hallway. He stood behind me, his voice low. "Tell me what happened to your brother."

I swallowed thickly. "He was there and then he wasn't. They did something to him. I didn't understand it at the time. I could hear his screams even after his body fell to the ground."

As I began explaining to him, the horrible memory flashed across my mind. I tried to calm my racing thoughts, but for a moment the images overwhelmed me.

James tried to fight, raising magics designed to heal and using them in ways that I never thought possible. He was older and fully trained. He had an arsenal of spells in his repertoire that I hadn't even begun to learn. I might not have been able to cast the spells, but I recognized them when I heard them. He manipulated a spell used to slow poisonings and two of the men bent over, vomiting violently. I heard him shout the words for a spell that Mama often used to anesthetize patients for surgery—another man collapsed onto the floor. But there were three more mages, and they were unaffected as James threw attack after attack at them.

But it was Macaven who advanced on James slowly, the air around him crackling with discharging energies. He paused to kick one of the vomiting men out of his way, sending him sprawling into a pool of his own sick. Macaven laughed cruelly at the miserable man, stepping around him to stand in front of my brother.

James gathered his power and fired a spell at Macaven. It was a simple spell—one used to break up blood clots in stroke victims—but James fueled it with all of the power he possessed. He released it at Macaven, but to my disbelief, the dark mage calmly clapped his hands together and the spell rebounded back onto James. The light around the magic changed color and expanded. The spell my brother cast was somehow morphed; Macaven had turned it against him.

When the ball of light hit James, he collapsed to the ground like a puppet cut from its strings. He lay still for a moment, then rolled onto his side, coughing heavily. Red blood sprayed the floor in front of him. He rose slowly to his knees, his breathing loud and labored, and began to crawl away from Macaven—and toward me, hiding in the pantry. His face rose to meet mine through the slit in the pantry door. I screamed at the sight of blood pouring from the inner corners of my brother's eyes like tears. Blood slid out of his ears and nose. An alarming volume flowed down his chin, splashing onto the floor in a rapidly spreading pool.

I shrieked, but they couldn't hear me.

Even as he started to die before my eyes, James's spell bound me to the pantry, kept my presence hidden, kept my cries blocked from the outside world.

His eyes locked onto mine for a second. I was still cowering in my hiding spot, and I saw the awareness dawn in his bloodshot eyes that he was leading Macaven straight to me. He stopped crawling, a look of calm resignation on his face. He turned, trying painfully to rise to his feet as Macaven strode up to him. Macaven reached out a long finger and placed it on the center of James's chest.

In one final act of defiance, James spit a mouthful of blood into Macaven's face.

The dark mage didn't even blink. His lips moved in a spell I couldn't hear, and James started screaming. Macaven pulled his finger back, and I stared, horrified, as my brother's soul came with it. He screeched as if he was being shredded from the inside out. After a few more moments of painful wailing, James's body collapsed to the floor, his mouth slack and unmoving—but still the scream went on, roaring through the air as his spirit was torn from his body and thrown into the ether sea.

My eyes never left my brother's face as all the blood left his body, forming a large puddle around him. My mother and father died brutal deaths, but their ends had come mercifully quick. Not James. James died painfully, horribly. His was a death I couldn't bear to think about.

When I finished, the expression on Luke's face was full of tortured grief.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered as he wrapped his arms around me, trying to shelter me from the horrible memory I'd described.

I realized I was breathing heavily, my heart pounding in my chest. Tears streamed down my face. I forced the image of my brother's empty eyes, of his crumpled body covered in blood, from my mind, and I was finally able to slow the out-of-control memories that raced through me. I leaned against Luke, feeling my pulse return to normal in the warmth of his embrace.

When I found my voice again, I asked, "Does that mean Macaven bound James's spirit?" I held my breath, hoping his answer would prove my worst fears wrong.

"It makes sense. Macaven could have bound your brother's spirit. If he did, James is one of his banshees now."

At Luke's words, a desperate anger filled me. "No! We have to help him." I started toward the door. Voices could be heard shouting from the other room.

Luke pulled me back. "We have to save Darla. Now that the ceremony has distracted everyone, we can search for her."

"I know where she is."

Luke's fingers dug into my arm. "Where?"

I pointed toward the tapestry. "Through there. There's a hidden passage and then a set of stairs, and at the bottom of the stairs are rooms. I think she's in one."

More shouts could be heard from the other room. Luke looked from the door to the tapestry. "We have to get her out. Our best chance is now, while everyone is busy."

"But James—"

Luke interrupted me. "Your brother is dead. But Darla is alive." He reached over and pulled up my mask. "I'm sorry, Colina." He brought his face close to mine. "James's spirit can't come to you. Macaven has bound him."

"Is that why when I called my family, I could only make contact with my mother? But what about my father?"

Luke turned away.

I gasped. "You know something about my father?"

He turned back toward me. "There's no time for this. We have to go after Darla."

"What did that madman do to my father? Tell me!"

Luke didn't say anything for a few seconds. He just stood there, looking as though he were trying to decide something. A grim expression crossed his face when he finally spoke. "When I was researching what ancient spells they could be trying to do, I came across one that involved a dagger. When we were in there, I got close to the platform, and I got a good look at the knife." He sighed. "I think it might be the same one they used to kill your father."

I let out a quiet moan.

Luke reached up and wiped away a tear from my cheek. "If I'm right and Macaven's using the same ceremonial knife, the one I recognized from the books, then your father's soul became trapped in the dagger."

"I don't understand."

"Macaven needs magic to power the old spells. He wants to create something—something that can wield power. Something bigger, something not of this world. From what I heard people saying in the crowd, tonight he's making preparations for an old and powerful spell. He's trying to bring forth—" He stopped.

"A spirit? Like the banshees?"

"No. Something far worse." A look of fear crossed his eyes. "A demon."

Another burst of sound came from the room. Whatever they were doing in there, they were enjoying it. The crowd had looked on with enthusiasm as Macaven killed the ram. What will they do when he starts sacrificing people? The thought sent chills down my spine.

Luke must have been thinking along the same lines—an expression of fear and then outrage crossed his face. He looked at me and said in an angry voice, "A demon isn't a spirit, not in the strictest sense. It's a combination of spirits, of their essence, it makes something bigger, darker. For this spell Macaven would have had to kill a lot of men who had evil in their hearts."

His words shocked me. "My father was not evil." My voice was full of outrage.

"No, but he was powerful. Once Macaven had a collection of souls, the essence of those souls would give the demon enough power to cross over. But it's not enough just to gather the souls. Macaven would have to form some sort of gateway, a dark door to bring it into our world. And to do that, he'd need power. Lots of power."

"And you think that's why he's been killing people?"

"Right now, we have to save my sister. I heard them say they're going to do more sacrifices at midnight. We don't have a lot of time."

"But James..."

Luke raised his hand and stopped me. "First, we free my sister. Then we will find a way to help your brother."

Everything Luke said made sense. The reason my father's and brother's spirits had never tried to contact me was because Macaven had bound them. Now they were both part of his sick and twisted plan.

I had to find a way to set them free.

***