As she finally left the apartment, wondering how many invisible alarms she’d tripped in the kitchen, Moth dropped Jace’s cell phone outside the bedroom door. Maybe he’d find it before his dad got home. She didn’t have time to do more for him. Theo would be waiting for the urn, and was no doubt wondering where the hell she was.

Moth rolled her eyes. Let him wait—like he’d even care that she had almost been killed tonight.

Except Theo had cared. He had seemed to care a great deal, which left Moth confused and vulnerable when she faced her father the next day.

“I don’t know what kind of deal you made with the Devil, Marie O’Neal, but do you honestly believe I haven’t noticed you’ve not aged a day since your eighteenth birthday?”

Moth—still known as Marie to her family—stared at her father in shock. She wanted to say something sensible; something that would convince him that he was talking crap. Anything that might make him believe she wasn’t the monster he suspected her of being. But the O’Neals were a superstitious bunch, and her father was the worst of them.

“Dad—”

“Get out of my house. Your mother’s been in her grave this past year, so you’ve no business here anymore.”

“You can’t stop me from seeing Caitlín!” Her younger sister would be devastated when she heard what was happening. How could Moth explain this to her without revealing the truth?

Coming home had probably been a mistake, but Moth refused to miss her mother’s memorial service.