The girl’s gaze met bottomless, perfectly black eyes. Her face was barely ten centimeters from the snout of the hideous creature. The thing had been preparing to attack, but the girl’s sudden movement stopped it for a heartbeat. It clearly hadn’t expected that, because for a brief moment it simply stood there, staring at the pained, suffering face before it.

  Everything happened in a fraction of a second. The creature realized its meal might fight back, and the witch, in turn, saw a potential cure for her misery. Instinct, in both cases, reacted with the slightest delay. The creature drew back its powerful, clawed paw to strike harder and with absolute certainty. Alice’s hands shot forward, grabbing its bald head. The intruder immediately dropped its arm, trying to deliver a killing blow, but the witch had already begun draining its energy, simultaneously converting it into a defensive surge to block the strike. The mortal blow was parried, barely. A second later, the witch would have been dead. The creature howled in shock and then felt its life bleeding away.

  “Good morning, you son of a bitch,” Alice whispered, smiling wide. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

  A deafening roar tore from the monster’s throat. It thrashed wildly, struggling to escape, but it was useless. The speed at which its life force poured out was terrifying. The creature never stood a chance. The witch was pulling with everything she had. After the previous day, she had far too much power to replenish.

  The creature raised its paw once more, but after a moment it fell limp. Its life began to collapse inward. It felt something touching its core, reaching for what was most precious within it. In that instant, the world ceased to exist. All that remained was the certainty that death would be a release.

  Then the attacker vanished.

  Its physical form had been nothing more than a manifestation of power, and once that power was devoured, nothing remained behind.

  Alice closed her eyes and shattered the personality of what she had consumed. The energy she had taken in was primal, pure, chaotic. She savored its aftertaste as every ache vanished at once. Her body returned to full function, her aura smoothed itself out, her energy flow stabilized. It lasted only a few minutes, but the result was nothing short of spectacular.

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  Marcel witnessed everything and understood nothing.

  Panic seized him completely, stripping away his ability to think. Then reason returned. Along with it came answers to questions he had never dared to ask. Everything snapped into place. No more half-truths. No more doubts. Marcel felt as though something inside him was collapsing, and a single thought consumed him: he did not know this world at all.

  “You were supposed to warn me, Marcel,” Alice said. Her eyes were still closed.

  The spirit couldn’t speak. He stood frozen, gripped by the realization that it could just as easily have been him, and that the destruction of his soul would mean nothing to this witch.

  “I could have died, Marcel. I could have been torn apart, and it would have been your fault.”

  Alice slowly opened her eyes. To Marcel, they looked inhuman, as if something of the devoured creature still lingered within them.

  “How many?” he whispered.

  At first, Alice didn’t understand the question. Then she saw the terror in her roommate’s gaze and understood everything. She sighed heavily, hiding how deeply that fear hurt her. She rubbed her forehead with her right hand and thought for a moment before answering quietly.

  “Does it matter? A few. Maybe a dozen. Not more… Certainly not dozens.”

  Marcel felt hollow. Completely hollow. Even resigned to the fate he now saw awaiting him. Running would be pointless. After what he had just witnessed, he understood that fully.

  “I was your emergency reserve.” It wasn’t really a question.

  Alice said nothing. Her silence stretched unbearably long. It broke him. He took it as confirmation and didn’t ask again. He just stood there, staring out the window. Damn it, it was so unfair. Why now, when he had finally begun to feel almost alive?

  He heard a quiet sniffle.

  He turned toward the witch, but she was gone.

  On the bed sat the girl who had moved into his apartment some time ago. Young. Slightly naive. Fresh. And wounded. Deeply wounded, and by him, no less. Tears streamed down her face, one after another. Her chin trembled, her cheeks flushed red. Movie stars cried beautifully on big screens. In real life, it never looked like that.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. It was all he could manage. Why was he always such an idiot?

  She didn’t answer. She simply looked at him, making no attempt to hide her pain or her resentment, her face laying bare how unjust his judgment had been. She didn’t explain herself. She didn’t defend herself. She didn’t try to prove anything.

  That was the most painful part. And the most honest.

  Without a word, she stood up and went into the bathroom.

  “You idiot,” he muttered to himself. “What the hell have you done?”