Henry stared at her with his animal eyes, brown and ringed with gold. “Go!” she said at him. “Get out of here!”

Aglaé growled, dropping some of her pretense, and just when she turned back to Taggart, Eustace lifted his shotgun. It took a moment for Elizabeth to realize what was happening.

That it wasn’t aimed at the beast.

***

Eustace had never been a man to fall for a ruse. Especially when it came to conniving and devious women. He’d known a few in his life, could always pick them out of a crowd. And this, whatever she was, had manipulation all over her. He couldn’t explain it exactly, but knew one thing for sure: she wasn’t what she appeared to be. And with the way she seemed to come from nowhere—first appearing as a decaying corpse that he realized was himself, then as a demon, and now this—he had nothing but the deepest of sinking feelings all throughout him. While viewing her from the end of his double-barrel, reality hit him: she was the one responsible for everything. Sheppy, the screaming, the terror, and even Gina Gray’s cats.

A wave of guilt rolled through him and he wished he would have realized this sooner, before Brian had tied Elizabeth up. She’d been right, about everything. And the most unsettling thing was that in the back of his aging mind, he’d known it all along.

“I’d watch where you point that,” the woman said, the corner of her mouth lifted in a seductive smile. She was a sight to see, that’s for sure, but that’s where it would end for him.

“I’d shut your mouth, woman, before I pull the trigger.” Eustace backed her up and she lifted her hands. His neighbors mumbled around him and Taggart asked what in Hell’s sake he was doing. But he wouldn’t fall for it like they had. Her back met the needles of a fir, and unlike a moment ago, when she’d been a sobbing, frantic mess at Taggart’s feet, she was cool as a cucumber, lifting a brow in fascination. As though his Betsy could do nothing to her. Probably it couldn’t, since the slash in her shoulder didn’t seem to affect her like it would a normal person with a soul and feelings.

“I see age has dulled your male appetite.”

Grinding his teeth, Eustace shoved the barrels into the soft spot on her chest, just between her breasts. Her skin was supple, he allowed himself to think in a moment of stupor. Alabaster, shimmering. He shook his head. “My appetite’s fine. I just won’t be fooled by a temptress.”

“A temptress? Is that what you think I am?”

“I don’t know what you are, but you’re something not far from the Devil.”

She threw her head back and cackled, the sound as grating as nails on a chalkboard. In his disorienting distraction, she took hold of his gun. But just as she twisted it from his grip, the monster attacked her from the side, trapping her beneath him. Eustace backed away, watching—seeing the thing for what it was, for the first time ever. How had Elizabeth been right this whole time? How had she seen it in the beginning?

The red-haired woman’s eyes hardened, changing her face, and as she struggled with the weight atop her—the weight that would crush a normal human being—somehow the beast was thrown from her again. She lunged for him, hands curled like claws and teeth bared like an animal, and with a roar of her own she was atop him, the two of them rolling in another struggle impossible for Eustace to see.

“Eustace!” It was Elizabeth, and he’d never seen such desperation.

He turned to Taggart, who watched the brawl with a dumbfounded expression. In fact, everyone did. No one could take their eyes away from the enigma they couldn’t explain. Nicole stood back with her arms over herself, and Brian was nowhere to be seen. Probably he had run away like the coward he was. Eustace yanked the keys from Taggart’s belt and found the small cuff key. While fidgeting for the lock wedged behind Elizabeth’s back, he looked down on her. “Beth…I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, Eustace,” she said with distraction. Probably his apology was the furthest thing from her mind. The cuffs clicked, loosening. She brought her wrists in front of her, touching them tenderly, and he swallowed at the raw, bloody abrasions. When she nodded, an understanding passed between them, a kinship much like the one they’d shared in this same forest on the night they’d met. Funny, how back then he’d been the one convincing her to believe in magic, and tonight she was the one who had to do all the convincing. Back then he’d felt there was something about her, something that would save them all. And now he knew she would.

Elizabeth’s eyes shifted to the fight, to the whiz of blackness, and she hesitated with a distressed brow. Was it love she felt for the monster?

When the blur stilled, the beast was a mangled, bloody thing, his chest heaving with fatigue. The red-haired woman looked a mess, too, but not like the beast. Then Eustace heard it, clear and vague at the same time, coming from inside his mind but from nowhere. Take her. Take her away from here, Eustace.

His vision shot all around him, then ended on the monster. He stared at Eustace, his large, marble-like eyes—usually evil and full of terror—somber and glazed. Somehow it had come from him, Eustace knew, and in his daze, all he did was nod.

But before he could take hold of Elizabeth’s arm, the beautiful demon pulled a long golden knife from a sheath on her inner thigh and drove it into the beast, just below his ribs. She moaned as she did this, a sensual sound of pleasure, and the beast roared with his fangs toward the moon—the fangs that would always give Eustace the willies.

Elizabeth released a tortured cry when he fell to the ground. Eustace tried grasping her, but she was gone too fast, his fingers catching the air. The beast saw her running toward him, though, and growled, returning to his wobbling feet.

He stared her down with a threatening look, one of competition. He was communicating with her the way he’d just communicated with Eustace—probably telling her to stay back.

Elizabeth did, grinding her teeth, and her attention, as well as Eustace’s, shot to the temptress as she laughed that horrible laugh. She began circling the beast, whose back legs gave out, and she ignored Elizabeth completely. “You know why I’m in this form again, Monster?” Eustace couldn’t stand her voice. There was something unsettling in it, as though the tone had been altered by some machine to make it more feline-like.

The beast snarled at her.

“Because I don’t want to simply poison you.” She examined her long, gold knife, stained in red. She wiped a finger down the blade, leaving a clean, golden streak amidst his blood, and this too seemed to give her pleasure. “I intend to kill you now, Monster. I told you I’d be back, didn’t I? If you even thought about breaking the curse.”

Eustace would have bet the beast sent her thoughts, since her face changed, became irate. Though it frightened him, Eustace couldn’t help his curiosity of this curse.

“Lies!” she cried, swiping the knife at the beast; he backed away, the blade barely missing. “You have thought it, or I wouldn’t be here!” Again she smiled, regaining composure, and as the beast lowered the rest of himself to the earth in weakness—or maybe even surrender—she said, “But don’t worry, Monster. I’ll kill her when I’m finished, if that’s what you want. I’ll do the job for you, since she has made mine more difficult.”

Silence again. The beast’s eyes were fastened so soundly to her he appeared as nothing more than a statue. Her face fell. “You would…give your life for her?”

“No,” Elizabeth began arguing. She tried approaching, but this time Eustace held her back. While she struggled with Eustace—weakly—a silent exchange passed from the beast to Elizabeth, and whatever he said, it was enough to bring her to her knees. She slid out of Eustace’s hands and with a despairing shake of her head, sobbed.