“Janice, no—”
“Ivy…” Janice pointed.
Ivy hesitated one second—then ran. Because that was their rule. Never get caught together. One always escapes. ivy wolfe janice griffith
The shadows in the corner weren’t shadows. They were moving toward them, shapeless and hungry.
“Barely. Turns out the curse is real, but it’s allergic to my grandmother’s folk charm.” Janice pulled a small iron talisman from her bodice. “Ma insisted I wear it to every fancy party. Always thought it was superstition.” “Janice, no—” “Ivy…” Janice pointed
“Told you. Cursed,” Janice said.
“If it’s cursed, it follows the holder.” Janice slipped the chain over her own head. The shadows above them paused. Turned. Slithered toward her instead. Never get caught together
Forty minutes later, Ivy circled back through the sewers. She found Janice sitting on a crate, pendant still around her neck, shadows milling confusedly ten feet away like dogs who’d lost a scent.