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Mir's apartment reminds me of the wreckage of a ship, not the water part but the chaos.

The indiscernible force of the guarding runes still pushes me out the moment I try to cross the threshold--yet as I peer inside, it looks...wrecked. A pile of boots and shoes, mahogany boards that were supposed to be shelves, books, pans, and pots--all scattered around the hall. I guess that's how it looks when a ship's deck tilts and crashes, dumping everything in one mess.

"What the hell?" Yara asks as Kadri appears from the living room with a screwdriver in her hands. "When I said trash the place, I didn't mean turn it into trash."

Kadri gawks at her, caught off guard. "Ady and I searched everywhere, but your bones are as good as gone. Then I remembered old apartments used to have hideaways in the walls, so we thought..." She wiggles her screwdriver knowingly.

Irritation surges through me. Of course, Mir Praejis have thought of everything, that's what he always does. Honestly, I envy that a little. Had I been that meticulous, I wouldn't have been stuck between the dead and the living with no power to control it.

Wait.

Something strange brushes against the edge of my mind, something persistent, preternatural. Its magical presence is different--sad, forlorn, not destructive as Death usually is. Yara's bones, they're still here. Reaching out for the bones' magic, I use it to write the words in the air:

Let me in.

"Is that your Plan A, Yaroslava?" Adélard walks out of the kitchen, a hammer tucked behind his belt. "Mysterious letters chasing you and"--he narrows his eyes at her--"makeup? You look like a pirate."

Yep, I'm totally on a hijacked ship.

Yara groans, annoyed, then turns in my direction. She hesitates, dismay etching upon her face. "No offense, Bogdan, but I..."

You still don't trust me?

Oh. That hurts. And it's all because of Mir! Because of his lies that once took Yara from me.

"I'm just not sure I know you now, Dan. So much happened. I changed--you changed. Mir spelled the apartment for a reason."

Yes, so I wouldn't be able to help you!

But I can find your bones. You need them, don't you? To save Mir.

"And you need them to kill him."

Well...yes.

"Kill him?" Alarm flashes in Ady's brown eyes. "Why do your letters suggest killing Mir, Yara?"

"Hard to explain. Because they're my currently invisible best friend, who I presumed to be a dead ghost at first, who actually turned himself into a demon, and who also kind of was Mir's--Vladimir's--childhood friend, too, and who now has...hate to admit it, but a convincing theory about Mir being the serial killer we've been hunting."

Ady harrumphs, crossing his arms. "Mir's no killer. And he can't stand when people call him Vladimir."

"Actually, erm," Kadri nudges a coffee pot with her shoe, out of her way, stepping forward. "It would make sense. Aren't lawyers taught how to commit a murder? So that they could advocate for the innocent, of course."

Exactly!

Finally, one sensible person here.

In unison, Ady and Yara glare at her. "No."

A moment later, Yara sighs. "Fine, but promise not to do anything drastic, Bogdan. Not until I do something first, at least."

Promise.

After a quick inspection, she uses her nail to scrape something off the wall next to the front door. Like a tidal wave, the pressure keeping me out retreats. I take an uncertain move through the doorframe, and it allows me. Relief washes over me, I'm not left behind this time.

Thank you, Yara. Come on.

The thread of the same preternatural scent resonates stronger, as wade further. The sun has almost sat outside, and the bedroom I soon find myself in is merged in the gloom. An unfinished wooden statue of an angel stands in the middle, oddly white even for the prism of vague shadows I see everything through, and the sadness, it comes from...within it?

"I wondered why I felt so uneasy the last time I was in Laverna's room," Yara says as she and the others approach behind my back. "Lav told me the statue was hollow, for the decorative lights to put inside, but that's what she was trying to hint."

Laverna put the bones inside a wood piece? And then it dawns on me. Tyilin wood, of course--it changes color when charged with magic, and Yara's bones must be brimming with it. That's why it's so white. I extend my hand, picturing I could touch it. The air around the bones feels rough. And they're sad. Just like Yara, when she was in the abyss.

"I feel really stupid now," Ady says, "but how do your bones help us catch the killer, Yara?"

"They don't. My lost memory does, but for that, I have to destroy my bones and become a Vedma again."

"Then...Polina dies? If you destroy your bones, it means this is your and yours only."

Yara nods.

Kadri says nothing, only pushes her lips forward, and I can't tell if she wants to disagree or support the decision.

Adélard shakes his head, coming closer to the statue, staring at it for a long dubious moment, then at Yara. "I guess it can be called collateral damage, right? If we don't stop the killer tonight, Angels know how many more will die in the future, and all we've done have been for nothing--Nilam died for nothing."

Let one die to save many. That's what a hero would do. Why doesn't it feel heroic, then?

Are you sure?

Yara blinks at my question hanging above the angel's head, thoughts whirling in her pupils.

"Of course not!" Suddenly, she starts laughing, a sound on the verge of hysteria. She drops on Lav's bed, pressing her hands to her cheeks as though to cool them down. "Have anyone ever been completely sure of anything? Nilam was right, I was terrified of my powers, of my emotions, of people. I couldn't control any of those. I think I'm not scared now, but... how can I tell for certain?"

Have faith, that's what my granny would have said. I wonder how she is now, I've never visited her since I became what I am now. Maybe because her faith would proclaim me a sinner, and abandon me as my parents did. Yara's the only one who's never turned her back on me. Gliding closer, I write my answer in a small line, so that she's the only one who can see it.

I know you'll do it right in the end. You always do.

That's why I chose you as my best friend.

Yara waves at the line, making it disappear. "You didn't have many people to choose from. Nobody, really, except for me. But I don't know anything, Bogdan. For instance, if Mir is guilty and you're innocent, where were you all these years I was dead? He told me he didn't know I died, but why have you never tried to find my damned spirit in the Immortal Realm?"

I hesitate. Sometimes, I can't even tell if it's been a minute or a month, for the flow of time doesn't touch me, and I lose its track if I'm not attentive enough. Yet, it's not the main reason. It'll sound silly, I know, and unconvincing and pathetic.

I didn't know, either.

The moment I climbed out of that river, saw the rotten dead world around me, and realized what I'd done, I was horrified. When I figured out how to shift my focus, to look past the rot and see the Mortal Realm again, I wanted to find Yara, truly, so went to the city. Yet when I actually saw the city, I got lost. It was so much bigger than the room I grew up in, much bigger than the whole town of Blakfait. And it was so also beautiful: all the gold-domed cathedrals, and wide bridges, and art galleries, and restaurants with dishes I'd never tried. I still couldn't try them, or touch the icons in the churches, or smell the river breeze, but I couldn't stop exploring every city wonder until there was nothing to explore.

I was traveling, doing what I'd always dreamt of.

Yara reads my answer but stays silent.

And then I finally heard strangers gossiping about a girl named Slavich, who'd herself burned alive a couple of years ago. But I knew Yara; she would never have done that to herself, not the Yara with her adamant spirit I knew. So I went looking for Vlad. It took another year to traipse over the giant city with no clue but hope. At last, I succeeded and saw him, by sheer luck, I sensed the magic of his sigil scar that made me feel alive for the first time since I became a demon. I confronted him--he laughed into my face. A scar on his lip was all I managed to do to him before he subdued his powers and made me a shadow once again.

Ady clears his throat, sliding to sit on the bed, next to Yara. "Well, if anyone's asking, I had plenty of people to choose for my friends. And I chose Mir, though he still denies we're friends, and I choose you, too, Yaroslava."

"I do, too." Kadri says quietly. "You're not alone, Yara."

After a long moment of silence, Yara loosens a breath. She looks between Ady and Kadri and the empty space where, she assumes, I am. "Thank you." She fumbles in her pocket, and when she opens her hand, I see the piece of her old skull she's been carrying with her like a talisman. "Do it, Dan," she says. "I'm not sure I'm ready for the truth, but I'm willing to risk."

So am I.

I can't use magic on the objects that belong to the living, yet Yara's bones are no living, are they? Without flames or heat, but with a cold glow, slowly, the skull blackens and thins and wanes to ashes that sift through Yara's fingers and dissolve before reaching the floor. One by one, I erase every bone inside the statue, sensing the air around it smoothing like ironed silk. The sadness recedes.

Once it's done and I turn around to tell her that, I realize she's left the room; only Ady and Kadri are still here, watching the wooden angel glow from within. Where did she go? I want to ask, but then I remember that without the bones, I don't even have a source of energy to communicate.

Fast, determined footsteps echo in the hall.

"What is Yara doing?" Kadri asks, out of the fascinated trance as the wooden statue ceases glowing.

"I left Morox she asked me to bring in the kitchen," Ady shrugs. "But she didn't tell me why she needed it."

Morox? Oh, no. A Bloodcage potion is dangerous, but mixed with another brew? Lethal. To become a Vedma, Yara needs to stop and restart her heart, doesn't she? As long as her original bones existed, she couldn't sleep, therefore die without being kicked out of the body by Polina's soul. Now she can.

But who's supposed to restart her heart if Vlad's not here?

I blur out of the room, through the walls, toward the noise, and find Yara in the kitchen, sipping a greenish-gray mixture of potions, while blood trickles down her arm. Panic pits in my stomach. She's cut a new sigil scar. Now it won't stop bleeding until--

"It tastes awful," Yara murmurs, rather to herself than to me, as she pulls the glass away from her lips. "And it's so cold here, I haven't noticed. I just..." Her gaze settles precisely on me, making me go numb in surprise. "Bogdan?" She gives me a weak smile, then staggers, grabbing the edge of the table to balance herself. "Ah, I can see you. I think I've done something drastic, Dan. It's your turn to--" The glass falling from her hand, she gasps and collapses to the floor.

With a scream, Kadri runs into the kitchen. Adélard curses, crouching beside Yara, pointlessly trying to wrap a towel around her arm and stop the bleeding. She hasn't told them about her whole plan, either. Because none of us would have agreed to this! Dying all over again, just to learn the truth? To prove Vlad is innocent? He's not worth it.

Her limbs shaking, Yara shoves Ady away, ruining all his efforts to help her. Her lips move, saying something, but not a sound comes out, nothing but wet coughing. She can't breathe.

Yara, you're insane after all. You're dying. I blur beside her, yet there's nothing I can do until she's actually dead. But I don't even know how to do it. Can I do it? And what exactly am I supposed to do?

Her previously determined expression gradually transforms into dismay into fear. Magic is dangerous, magic is deadly. I can't even imagine what it's like, to drink such a fatal mixture of potions. Is it like burning from inside? Turning to ice? Or just suffocating?

Her eyes still fixed on me, she manages a single sentence in a hoarse whisper. "I'm not alone, am I, Dan?" Then her chest stops heaving, her eyelids drop closed. Adélard stumbles away from her stilled body, shocked.

"Is she...dead?" Kadri asks, her voice breaking.

She is.

That's the plan. Her plan. Risking her own life to save another, that's what right choices are about, right? That's what her empathetic heart has always done to her, the heart she's been always scared of. Insane. Insanely selfless.

Kadri and Adélard keep shouting--at each other, at Yara, and in the air, calling me--and I just can't believe it. She said she didn't know if she could trust me, yet she trusted me with her life. Right now. Right here.

Dead.

But not alone.

She trusts me. And for once in my life, I'm the one everything depends on. The only one who can save her.

A terribly alluring idea winds through my mind: what if I let her die? I never promised to restart her heart, I would tell her I couldn't after I find her spirit in the Immortal Realm. We'd be together as we used to, when we were kids. Us against the brutal world. We can go traveling again, two ghosts oblivious to years passing by. We can go wherever we want, explore the entire planet—more than the entire planet. I've always been queasy about the thought of surveying the world of the dead alone, but maybe behind its rot and fear and the dark, there's something to see, too.

Yet, it would be dark.

She doesn't like it dark.

What friend will I be if I don't respect her choice?

Placing my hand to hover over her chest, I feel the faint warmth around her heart. It's warm with magic now, but it doesn't beat. Not yet. I squeeze the warmth, slightly, and it leaves my skin tingling, a half-forgotten sensation. I squeeze it again, harder, and the blood in Yara's veins stirs, forcing the air around us to ripple with energy.

Her heart gives a wary start.

And then, it's like being thrown into a tank of cold water. The realization of how uncomfortably solid the floor is comes first. Then the weight of my jacket on my shoulders, the thought of how soft it actually is against my skin, distracts me for a second. And smell. The smell of cinnamon, spilled a long time ago, perhaps, but still lingering in the kitchen. My stomach gurgles. When was the last time I ate?

And the colors. So vibrant. No shadows.

"Fuck." Adélard voice startles me, and it's even more troubling as I meet his and Kadri's baffled gazes trained on. It worked, they see me. "So you are the demon?"

I'm probably supposed to talk back now. "Hi?"

Unhurried, as though awaking from a deep slumber, Yara opens her eyes, props herself up on her elbow, and looks around. Not a trace of worry on her face now. She really trusted me more than I trusted myself, didn't she?

"Might have told us you intended to generate a heart attack before giving us one," Kadri grumbles, casting Yara and me an exasperated glare from under her bangs.

Disregarding the complaints, Yara turns to me and--drags me into a tight hug. "I missed you," she says, her tone laced with that sincere tenderness only she possesses. It feels so good, much better than that bizarre idea of traveling in the shadows forever. I missed it, too. She's so warm, so familiar, so corporeal. I sigh in gratitude, wrapping me hands around her shoulders.

"But you're cretin!" She suddenly jerks away. Something shifts in Yara's expression, something unexpected. Anger. "I can't believe that for a moment, I actually fell for your vile theory, Dan. You're a pridurok, blyat. Grr! Dolboeb."

"Wow," Ady says, "she didn't teach me those words."

"I bet they're all bad," Kadri answers.

"What theory?" I ask, confused. "About Mir?"

Instead of answering, Yara shoves me again, a harmless yet aggressive motion, and as I'm not fully used to the need of holding my balance yet, so I flop on my back. Instinctively, magic stirs within me, shielding me from the potential danger. A wind appears out of nowhere, making the plates on the sink rattle, and smacked by a gust, Yara reels for a moment as she climbs to her feet, before Kadri catches her hand.

Anger in Yara's eyes thickens. "Using magic against me?"

Heat swells up on my chest. Partly, it's nice to feel my heart beating and my blood circling hot in my veins, yet it quickly turns too hot. I'm out of breath--and I need to breathe now, since I'm as much alive as everyone in this room is, since Yara's witchery presence makes me such.

Alarm shoot through me as the heat grows almost unbearable. Why is she angry with me? What has she remembered? Could I actually have something to do with her death, something I myself fail to acknowledge? My first few days of being a demon are pretty hazy in my memory, so... "Yara—"

"Hey!" Ady leaps between us sprawled on the floor, his arms outstretched in a calming manner. Yara blinks, frowns, then the strangling grip on my heart recedes.

Since demon's magic is about natural elements, I guess it can create anything as long as it's made of nature. Struggling to remember all the details at once, I manage to conjure a wooden replica of my old wheelchair. It looks clumsy, but it'll do for the time being. "Yara, what have you remembered?" I ask as Adélard helps me sit.

She shrugs, her expression still vexed. "You're an idiot, Bogdan. And so is Mir. All this time, you two have been blaming and fighting one another, chasing each other's tails like blind puppies, instead of taking a five-minute break to talk! None of you killed me." Without explaining anything, she veers toward the front door in the hall.

I stare at her, dumbstruck. That's impossible. The theory, it fitted flawlessly; I've thought it all through. Who, if not Praejis? "Are you saying the fire was an accident?"

"No."

"Wait!" I start after her, but lose a precious moment as my foot hits one of the pieces of the hijacked-ship-chaos, and I hiss in surprise and pain, glancing down. It's a shoebox in my way. Humans also pay attention to where they step, more attention than they think they do. Noted.

Yara really is good at being a Vedma--great even. Power suits her. Confidence suits her. Yet she's still scary sometimes. As she walks, she merely rolls her shoulders, and next second, Adélard and Kadri drop to the floor with a thud, both unconscious. Before I can find the words to react, Yara grabs the screwdriver Kadri left on the flower stand in the hall, and scratches a new guarding rune into the wall.

I stop short. She has just locked me inside the apartment. "Yara!"

"Sorry, Dan." Her expression softening, she pauses outside the door, where I can't reach her now. "I think I know where to find Mir, but I can't risk your lives. I have to do it alone. Meanwhile, help yourself with some snacks. Your churning stomach betrays you. Even without me nearby, I guess, you'll be corporeal for a few more hours, and then I'll be back."