Chapter 2The streaks eddied, ebbed, stabilized. Magic jerked at Kris’s body, at Justin in his arms.
They landed in his and Justin’s penthouse apartment: in the living room, in fact, right next to the sofa, with an unnerving degree of precision. Aunt Raissa, sitting on a couch-arm, said, “Oh, Mara—poor pet, look—”
Justin had gone quiet again, lax in Kris’s arms; Kris, released from demon magic, moved to set him on the sofa, saw Justin’s shut eyes and the loll of his head—
“No. No, Justin, come on—please, love, I love you—”
“Still here,” Justin breathed, without opening his eyes. “That hurt…even feeling it hurts…scratching…so sharp…”
“I’m sorry, pet.” Mara perched on the dark sculpted wood of their coffee table, scrutinizing her nephew’s face. “I thought you’d rather get home as fast as
