But what startled him properly were the others.
The sound from Parisa’s tongue had to be Farsi, though it was the first time Tristan had ever heard her use it. It morphed rapidly into French, but by the time her color had fully drained, she had fallen silent again. Reina, too, was speechless and pale, though she was often speechless. More alarmingly, it was the first time Tristan had ever observed her forcing her gaze away from something rather than boring holes in it, unrelenting.
Callum stared loudly. His expression was vocal, even if his mouth was not. He was saying things like how could this be happening and also, somehow, I told you. It was as if the hard look in his eyes was saying something to all of them that the rest of him could not: See? I was never your enemy after all.
Nico fell to his knees, shoulders folding in around his torso like he’d lost an organ.
“This can’t be real,” he said, and swore softly under his breath. “No. No.”
The four of them, one by one, had turned to Tristan, expectant. His brow furrowed, lips tight.
“Do we think it was the Forum?” asked Parisa after a moment, her voice like sandpaper. “They got in and out last time, didn’t they?”
“Could have been someone like Wessex Corp,” said Reina darkly.
“Someone should tell Atlas. Or Dalton.”
“Whoever did this, are they still here? In the house?”
“No.” Parisa glanced at Callum, who shook his head. “No. Not anymore.”
“I want answers.” The words, when they left Nico’s mouth, were explosive, juvenile with demand. “I want an explanation.”
“Does it count?”
To that, the others glared at Reina, who sighed loudly.
“Look, we were all thinking it,” she said. “Rhodes is gone. So that means—”
“The elimination is about sacrifice,” Tristan spat. “Death.”
The room fell silent.
“Is this not death enough for you?” Nico’s voice shook with outrage. The ground beneath them rumbled with it, but in answer, there was little Tristan could do but stare.
“How dare you,” Nico suddenly snarled at Tristan from the floor, leaking with toxicity that sparked mid-air. “How dare you—”
“Wait,” Tristan said. “What are you seeing?”
The others froze, stiffening.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
“It’s Rhodes,” Callum supplied, and the others flinched at her name, revulsed. “Her body on the ground.”
“What?” Tristan’s pulse quickened. “No. No, it can’t be—”
He felt the cool traces of Parisa’s presence in his head and shivered.
“He doesn’t see it,” Parisa said, sounding bewildered at first, and then astounded. “He doesn’t see anything.”
“Wait.” Nico scrambled to his feet, taking Tristan brusquely by the shoulder. “What’s there, then?”
“Nothing.” Not entirely true. There was an excess of magic in the room—volumes of it, impossibly swollen—but the air was empty of her. It was vacant of Libby herself, and that was the only thing Tristan could see or feel: her absence.
Libby was gone, clearly. Even her magic was gone from the room.
“She’s not there.”
“But she’s here,” Nico insisted raggedly, while Parisa, the first to manage a response, hastily bent down, brushing her fingers over nothing.
“This is… uncanny.” She stared down in awe. “The blood, it’s—” real.
Blood. No wonder they were all repulsed.
“There’s no blood,” Tristan said.
“No blood?”
He could feel their eyes on him, waiting.
“I told you, nothing.” Only emptiness. Only absence. Magic unrecognizable, belonging to no one. “But she’s definitely not here.”
“So it’s an illusion,” Parisa said, as Nico’s expression turned to a ghastly mix of concern and relief. “A really excellent one.”
“Professionally done,” Reina said, glancing at Callum.
It took a moment for Callum to process what she’d said.
“You honestly think I would abduct Rhodes and leave an illusion in her place?” he demanded.
“Your family is famous for their illusions,” Reina said. “Aren’t they?”
“I also know Tristan would see through it,” Callum snapped. “I’m not an idiot.”
“So someone outside the Society must have done it,” Parisa inserted quickly, rising to her feet again. She was barefoot, Tristan registered, and still thoroughly unconcerned with her appearance. “Only someone who wouldn’t know what Tristan’s specialty is could have done it.”