"Cyril! Oliver!" I shouted, running into the room.

The light stopped at the walls. As far as Noah could see. And where it stopped, it created a shimmering wall. Like a film covering everything Noah saw, shimmering with a light that didn't act the way light should.

Noah grabbed my arm, his fingers digging in. "Let me finish, Stella."

I tried to wrench free from his grip but it was like iron. Stupid frat-boy strength. "They were screaming, Noah. You had to have heard them."

"It'll be over soon. They don't need to be here."

Pounding came from behind me. Noah still had hold of my arm but I could turn toward the sound, toward the far wall of the apartment. The wall that separated the living room from my bedroom.

Then I heard Cyril shouting. "Stella? Are you alright?"

Oliver's voice chimed in and the pounding doubled.

"It's a ward," Noah explained calmly. "I can only purify what I can see. I'll have to move room to room. But considering ghosts are unable to cross the boundary of whatever abode they're haunting, my ward will push them to it."

"And squish them between that wave and the boundary?" I asked, horrified.

He must have heard the revulsion in my tone because he looked down at me. "They need to move on, Stella. Before they bring the monsters that come next."

I tried prying his fingers from my arm. "I'm not letting you do this—they were screaming, Noah! It hurt them!"

He ignored me and started dragging me through the living room, toward my bedroom door. His free hand went to cover his eye again.

I switched tactics. Instead of trying to get free, I tried to stop him. Digging in my heels, I pushed against his chest.

"Dammit, Stella," he grumbled, trying to fight forward while keeping one hand over his eye. "Just let me finish it."

"No freaking way," I hissed, grabbing his hand, trying to pry it off his face. To expose his eye. Stop him from charging up or whatever he was doing.

The pounding continued behind me, even louder than before. Desperation and fury were seeping into their voices.

With a swear, Noah let his hand fall from his eye. A weaker wave of energy went out, meeting with the ward he'd already placed and merging. With his hands free, he wrestled me backward until my legs hit the back of the couch.

I toppled backward while he kept his balance. He towered over me as I landed on the couch, and from his vantage point, he grabbed my wrists and yanked my hands away from him. "Dammit, Stella, just stop it!"

I tried kicking at his legs. My first shot caught him in the shin, yanking a choice word from him. Then he leaned forward, his knees sinking into the couch cushions, straddling me to protect himself from more kicks. With his hands still wrapped around my wrists, he moved to pin them up to the back couch cushions.

Trapped, I couldn't kick or use my hands to fight back. Flailing wasn't working either. His weight, position, and strength all worked against me, keeping me under him no matter how hard I tried to throw him off.

So I used my last option. I screamed. Full blown, I'm-being-murdered scream.

One hand snapped from my wrists to cover my mouth, muffling the sound. And even with my hand free, I couldn't pull his hand from my mouth. It'd clamped on, and no matter how hard I pulled, it stayed firmly placed.

"Stella!" Cyril shouted, the pounding intensifying. I could hear the fear edging out the anger in his tone. His yells drowned out Oliver's, though I could hear him briefly when their voices didn't overlap.

Noah leaned in slightly. "I am doing you a favor, Stella. They need to be purified. Before one of the monsters that comes next finds you—and believe me, it won't be long. Not with four perceptions feeding into each other here. Let me finish this."

I bucked against him, trying to throw him off me.

He let out an angry sigh. "I can't leave without purifying those ghosts, Stella. Because if a monster comes next, and kills them, what do you think'll happen? It'll turn on you and Bronte. Then it'll find another person close by with a heightened perception: me."

That was it then. As much as he claimed this was to keep me and Bronte safe, he was scared. Scared of the monsters the came after ghosts.

Scared.

But that was no reason to murder innocent ghosts.

When I mumbled against his hand, he gave me a sharp shake of his head. "Hold on. I'll take my hand off if you promise not to scream. Think about it, Stella. Do you really want the police to show up and you try to explain that we'd been fighting because I wanted to purify your apartment and you got cold feet?"

He waited until I nodded before slowly removing his hand. No doubt ready to slap it back down the moment I let loose another scream.

But I didn't. Not yet, at least. Instead, I glared at him. "You're a freaking coward."

His eyes hardened. "I'm doing what needs to be done."

"If that were the case, you would have tried purifying the monster. Not innocent ghosts."

"Ghosts aren't innocent," he snapped. "Sure, some of them were murdered, and they didn't deserve that. But it's their own emotions that keep them tethered here. Fear, anger, resentment, grief. If they'd just let that shit go, they could move on and I wouldn't have to force them to leave."

"Have you ever given them a chance to? Have you ever tried to help them work through whatever problems they have?"

"We don't have the freaking time!" He shook his head disgustedly. "Not before a monster shows up. And what's the point, anyway? They all go to the same place, whether they go on their own time table or mine, it doesn't matter."

"You're hurting them!"

"Please, at this point, some of them are just happy to feel anything at all."

My eyes widened, both at his words and the disgust in his tone. He held my gaze for a minute and then sighed, his gaze and words softening. "Stella, I feel bad for these ghosts. Really, I do. But I'm not going to condemn myself and any other psychics that happen to be nearby just because it hurts a little bit. It hurts and then it's over. They move on. Sometimes you have to have a little pain before you can get stuff done."

I shook my head, repulsed. "Yeah, very noble coming from the one inflicting the pain."

"Does a doctor have to apologize for breaking bones to realign them? Or a surgeon for cutting into a person to remove a tumor? We're all just trying to save lives here."

"Get off me."

He sighed. "Not until you agree to let me finish the purification, Stella. They don't belong here anymore and—"

My eyes flashed. "Noah Walker, get off me right now!"

Only my voice didn't sound like my voice anymore. Well, not just like my voice. It was like someone had added layers of sound to it, sounds that personified pure emotions. The base of it I recognized as my voice but the layers on top of it were biting and harsh, yet eloquent. And above all, authoritative. It was the voice kings used to rally troops or ancient orators used when swaying politics. It commanded respect. Demanded obedience.

Noah's eyes widened.

And then he got off me.

For a split second, we sat blinking at each other. Me sitting on the couch, him towering before me.

Then he lunged for me, both hands aiming for my mouth.

"Lower the ward!" I shouted, just as his hands clamped over my mouth.

He kept his hands pressed down, but in my periphery, I could see the light fading. The shimmering film that had spread out to cover everything that Noah could see began disappearing.

I struggled under him, trying to force his hands from my mouth, to issue another command, but there really wasn’t a need to.

I felt a chill move through me a second before he flew backward.