her hair, and then ran his hand down her side until he found her waist, his calloused fingers catching on the satin. Her skin had grown so sensitive to his touch that she surprised herself by shuddering in pleasure; the nightgown’s slippery fabric melded with her body, and she barely felt as though she were wearing anything at all. Her focus narrowed to the heat of their lips and breath, the lush squeeze of his hand on her hip, the shifting muscles of his back as she skimmed her fingertips across his shoulders, marveling at how strong he felt, the way their bodies molded as though made to fit together. When she turned her head to let him press kisses to her neck, the chill air beside the window tasted of snow and starlight. The city’s lights shimmered through patterns of frost.
Time seemed to slow. Reflected in the glass, the wavering flames of the candles stood still. Snowflakes hung sparkling in the air. She didn’t know if it was Nathaniel’s doing, or a different kind of magic entirely.
A fierce, urgent joy thrummed through her body. She felt as though she could leap out the window and take flight, soaring high above the rooftops, impervious to the cold. She closed her eyes and gripped Nathaniel’s back, lost in the overwhelming sensation of his mouth against her skin.
A knock came on the door.
Heat scalded Elisabeth’s cheeks as they both jerked upright. Minutes ago, the door had been open. Silas must have closed it at some point, and she could only imagine what he’d seen. “We’re decent,” she said, tugging the edges of her dressing gown into place.
The door creaked open. As usual, Silas’s expression gave no indication of his thoughts. She instantly felt foolish for imagining that, after centuries of living among humans, he might have the capacity to be shocked by her and Nathaniel’s behavior.
“Master,” he said. “Miss Scrivener. I am sorry to disturb you, but you must come at once. Something is happening to the Codex Daemonicus.”
For a split second, Elisabeth sat frozen, her ears ringing with Silas’s words. Then she burst upright, almost bowling the armchair over in her haste to seize Demonslayer from the corner. Without a second thought, she charged outside.
Her eyes watered. She coughed. A haze hung over the hallway, and when she reached the stairwell, smoke billowed up from the foyer in oily clouds. The sour, unmistakable stench of burning leather choked her nostrils. Dimly, she was aware of Nathaniel and Silas following her as she flew down the stairs.
“Did anything spill on the Codex?” she shouted over her shoulder, mentally going over the precautions they had taken. Following the night that it had transformed into a Malefict, she had been careful not to set any candles nearby. But perhaps one of the potions in the study had exploded, or a magical artifact had acted up—
“No, miss,” Silas replied. “Until a moment ago, all was well.”
Elisabeth’s stomach twisted. If the damage to the Codex hadn’t happened on their end, that could only mean one thing.
Ashcroft had found a way inside.
THIRTY
WHEN ELISABETH REACHED the study, she drew up short, squinting through the smoke that filled the room. Her blood ran cold as she took in the scene. The Codex hovered several inches above Nathaniel’s desk, its pages fanned out, splayed at such a hideous angle that it risked breaking its own spine. Embers danced along the edges of the pages, and the cover’s leather bubbled like boiling tar.
Nathaniel appeared next to her, his shirt pulled over his nose to block out the smoke. “It looks like it’s being tortured.”
That was precisely what Elisabeth feared. “I have to go in,” she said, starting toward the grimoire.
He caught her arm. “Wait. We have no idea what’s happening. You could get trapped in there.”
His face was pale. Regret pierced her like a blade. She would give anything to reverse time, to be back upstairs with him, her troubles far away.
“You’re right, but we have no other option. If Ashcroft is torturing Prendergast, I must stop him, or at least try.”
He opened his mouth to object, but she didn’t hear what he said. She had already reached out and taken hold of the Codex, its cover searing her hand like a hot iron even through the bandages, and the world was spinning away.
She appeared in Prendergast’s workshop with a stumble, almost slipping on the wet floorboards underfoot. The room looked as though it had been through an earthquake. The table