Chapter 57

Donovan hurried down the slope. After all the weeks - the months - of searching, Sloane was finally in front of him. Finally within reach, and he was afraid that if he blinked she'd disappear again, proving herself simply a phantom of his fevered imagination.

But Sloane didn't disappear, though her face went as white as a ghost. She'd been nearly that pale the first time he'd ever seen her - like she'd never been out in the sun before, like Roth had found her buried in the corner of some dusty old library. Which probably wasn't that far from the truth.

She'd looked so delicate, so timid that first day - a young girl with mousy hair tied in a messy bun, her hazel eyes hidden behind a pair of tortoiseshell reading glasses. In fact, she'd looked almost frightened to find herself among the Devil's Set, and more than one of them had questioned why Roth had brought her on.

That was a far cry from the woman who stood below him now. Her hair probably hadn't changed much, and even her glasse