I bite my lip, debating whether to comment. On one hand, Blaise at least seems to be trying to make things right. I don’t exactly want to discourage her from that.

On the other…

I think back to conversations I’ve had with Marcus. Times I’ve almost let the guilt of my past pull me under, sinking its nails into my ankles and keeping me from staying afloat. I think of what he always tells me when I consider allowing the past to drown me.

“Shame is useful, you know,” I say, savoring the way Marcus’s words feel on my lips. “But only for a little while. Once it prompts change, there’s no need for it anymore, and if you let it sit, it only festers.”

Blaise snorts. It does nothing to hide her sniffle. “Is that one of Abra’s unsolicited pieces of wisdom she forced on you when you were her captive audience?”

I smile. “No, not Abra.”

“Well,” she says, flitting her hand. “It’s not as if I can just ignore it. Make it go away. I would if I could.”

“What’s the antidote for shame?” I ask, and I’m not even talking to Blaise anymore, but feeling Marcus’s steady arms wrap around me as he waits for my answer. One I’ve memorized in the cadence of his voice.

“Pride,” Blaise responds, so quickly it’s clear she doesn’t have to think about it.

“That’s what I thought at first, too,” I say. “But—”

“Piper,” Blaise says, whispering my name, urgency punctuating her tone.

I allow my eyelashes to flutter open, as much as it feels like rising from bed on a winter morning during a thunderstorm.

That feeling doesn’t last long. Not when my eyes lock onto what Blaise is pointing toward.

An Other, long and sleek and bright as the moon, slinks from the tree line.

It stalks from the shadows, its padded feet silent against the swaying grass.

I lift the flute to my lips and play.

My Gift buzzes inside me, heightening the tune, but I fight to keep it steady.

No sudden movements, no harsh notes.

Fear pulses in my heart as it takes a step closer, Blaise tensing at my sides, her fingers extended at her sides like she’s readying a set of claws for battle.

Still, the mere draws closer, moonlight glinting off its saber-like fangs.

My Gift rears up within me, urging me to run, but I stand my ground, willing my Gift to continue lulling the beast to the other side of the Rip.

Of course, we’re not positive I can keep it on the other side.

But this is really more about experimenting with this technique, anyway. To see if I can actually do it, if I can actually lure an Other out of Az’s control.

As it turns out, I can’t.

The mere jerks its neck, snapping its jaws.

It springs, its haunches launching it through the air with all the grace of a dancer.

Its claw aims at my throat.

Blaise aims for its.

Ichor spatters my face. I inhale it through my nose, choking on the vile taste, but the mere’s body hits the ground with a thud.

My feet stay rooted to the ground, terror and relief still pounding in my stomach.

I chance a glance at Blaise, her front soaked with inky ichor.

“So I guess that settles that, then,” she says.

Blaise paces along the edge of the cave, at the edge of where sunlight meets shadows.

I suppose that is how she’s lived most of her life, though I determine it best not to mention it. Blaise has been in a state of distress ever since our plan to lure the Others back through the Rip so clearly failed.

It’s been question after question. Is there another song you can play? Are there instruments out there more powerful than that one? Did you try your hardest?

That last one she retracted immediately, guilt swarming her face.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her foot grazing the line between shadow and light. She watches it for a moment, then retreats to the back of the cave, slumping and leaning her head against the cave wall. The position leaves her neck exposed, which I suppose is something a vampire has the privilege of doing, though I find it rather ironic.

“It’s a fair question,” I say, shrugging. “For all you know, I could have gotten spooked and faltered.”

Blaise shakes her head. “You’re not the type to get spooked. You’re about as level-headed as they come.” She flashes me a wry grin. “I bet you even think things through before executing them.”

She’s right, but her comment isn’t about me. It’s about her, just another way for her to insult herself.

“Maybe,” I say. “But obviously I didn’t think this through enough.”

“You think the Others are just too powerful to be controlled by your magic?”

I frown, thinking. My Gift definitely got that Other’s attention. It’s not as though my music had no effect on it. “It was almost like…” I sigh, trying to think of a way to explain it. “When I used to use my Gift to find children, I would focus in on their suffering. The ones who were abused. The tune I used to find them—it didn’t enchant them as much as it called out to them. And then, for a while at least, if they answered the call, it formed a temporary bond between us, one that made it easy for me to track them down after the performance. It was always easy following it. Like having a rope to lead you in the dark. But with the Others, the rope is there. It’s just like someone else is on the other end, shaking and pulling, tossing you around like a wave until it’s impossible to hold on. I guess I lost my grip.”

Blaise’s eyes light up, though she tries to hide it by rubbing her forehead. “So you think you could get control back if you held on tight enough?”

I shake my head. “No. I don’t think I’m powerful enough for that. Not even with the Rip and the faerie flute helping.”

Blaise’s shoulders deflate.

“Now, if you could take the rope out of the ocean, if you could keep the other end from shaking, then maybe.”

I expect Blaise’s posture to straighten, for something close to hope to spark in her eyes. Instead, she just watches the line of sunlight at the mouth of the cave, her vision fixated on it.

Blaise might as well be in another world.

“Az controls the other side. He’s the one making it difficult for you to gain control,” she says, her voice devoid of emotion.