Little Pete looked at her and met her gaze. Aware. But still, he said nothing.
A waste of time demanding Little Pete use words. Words were her tool, not his. Astrid lowered her voice. “Petey. Show me. I know you have the power. Show me.”
Little Pete’s eyes widened. Something clicked beneath that blank stare.
The ground split open beneath Astrid. The dirt was a mouth. She cried out and fell, spinning downward, down a tunnel in mud lit by neon screams.
Diana opened one eye. What she saw before her was a wooden surface. A spilled Cheerio was the closest recognizable object.
Where was she?
She closed her eye and asked herself that question again. Where am I?
She’d had a horrible dream, full of gruesome detail. Violence. Starvation. Despair. In the dream she had done things she would never, ever do in real life.
She opened her eyes again and tried to stand up. She fell backward a very, very long way. She barely felt the floor when it smacked her in the back of the head.
Now she saw legs. Table legs, chair legs, the legs of a boy wearing frayed jeans and beyond the splayed, scarred legs of a girl in shorts. Both sets of legs were tied with rope.
Someone was snoring. Someone too close. A snore from an unseen source.
Bug. The name came to her. And with it the shock of knowing that she was not dreaming, had not dreamed.
Better to close her eyes and pretend.
But the girl, Penny, her legs strained against their ropes. Diana heard a moan.
With clumsy hands Diana grabbed the chair and pulled herself up into a seated position. The urge to lie back down was almost irresistible. But hand over hand, and then numb foot over numb foot, Diana pulled herself back up and into the chair.
Caine slept. Bug snored loudly and invisibly on the floor.
Penny blinked at her. “They drugged us,” Penny said. She yawned.
“Yeah,” Diana agreed.
“They tied us up,” Penny said. “How did you get free?”
Diana rubbed her wrists, as though she had been tied up. Why hadn’t Sanjit tied her? “Loose knots.”
Penny’s head wobbled a little. Her eyes wouldn’t quite focus. “Caine’s going to kill ’em.”
Diana nodded. She tried to think. Not easy in a brain still slowed by whatever drug Sanjit had slipped her.
“They could have killed us,” Diana said.
Penny nodded. “Too scared,” she said.
Or maybe they just aren’t killers, Diana thought. Maybe they just weren’t the kind of people who could take advantage of a sleeping foe. Maybe Sanjit wasn’t the kind of kid who could cut a sleeping person’s throat.
“They’re running,” Diana said. “They’re trying to get away.”
“Never hide on this island,” Penny said. “Not for long. We’ll find them. Cut me loose.”
Penny was right, of course. Even drugged Diana knew it was true. Caine would find them eventually. And he was the kind who killed.
Her true love. He was not the beast Drake was, but something worse. Caine wouldn’t kill them in some psychotic rage. He’d kill them in cold blood. Diana staggered out of the room, moving like a drunk, slamming into a doorway, absorbing the pain, moving on. Windows. Big windows in a room so huge it made the furniture arranged here and there in separate pods look like dollhouse toys.
“Hey, untie me!” Penny demanded.
She spotted Sanjit immediately. He was in profile against a red sky, standing at the edge of the cliff. There was a little girl with him. Not Virtue, some girl Diana had not seen before.
That’s what Sanjit had been hiding: there were other kids here on the island.
Sanjit looped a rope around the girl in a sort of web. He hugged her. Leaned down to speak to her face-to-face.
No, not the killing kind, Sanjit.
Then he began to lower the clearly terrified girl out of sight. Over the cliff.
There was a shout from the other room. Bug. He yelled, “Ah ah ah ah! Get them off me!”
Bug was awake. Penny had used her power to give Bug a nice shot of fear adrenalin.
As Diana watched, Sanjit himself climbed over the side. He faced the house as he did so. Did he see Diana standing there, watching?
Diana heard Penny coming into the room, at least as wobbly as Diana herself.
“You stupid witch,” Penny snarled. “Why didn’t you untie me?”
“Bug seems to have taken care of that,” Diana answered.
She had to cut Penny off before she saw what was happening. Before she saw Sanjit.
Diana picked up a vase from a side table. Very pretty crystal. Heavy.
“This is nice,” Diana said to Penny.
Penny looked at her like she was crazy. Then Penny’s eyes focused beyond Diana. Out of the window.
“Hey!” Penny said. “They’re trying—”
Diana swung the vase and caught Penny on the side of the head. She didn’t wait to see the effect but staggered, vase still in hand, to the kitchen.
Caine was still asleep. But he wouldn’t be for long, maybe, not long enough. Penny’s power of hallucination could wake the dead. She would send terrors into Caine’s dreams and wake him as she had Bug.
Diana raised the vase over her head. It occurred to her in a moment of wry clarity that while Sanjit might not be the kind of person who would brain someone in their sleep, she apparently was.
But before she could smash the vase down on her true love’s head, Diana’s flesh erupted. Gaping red mouths appeared on her arms, gnashing with serrated shark’s teeth. The mouths were eating her alive.
A waste of time demanding Little Pete use words. Words were her tool, not his. Astrid lowered her voice. “Petey. Show me. I know you have the power. Show me.”
Little Pete’s eyes widened. Something clicked beneath that blank stare.
The ground split open beneath Astrid. The dirt was a mouth. She cried out and fell, spinning downward, down a tunnel in mud lit by neon screams.
Diana opened one eye. What she saw before her was a wooden surface. A spilled Cheerio was the closest recognizable object.
Where was she?
She closed her eye and asked herself that question again. Where am I?
She’d had a horrible dream, full of gruesome detail. Violence. Starvation. Despair. In the dream she had done things she would never, ever do in real life.
She opened her eyes again and tried to stand up. She fell backward a very, very long way. She barely felt the floor when it smacked her in the back of the head.
Now she saw legs. Table legs, chair legs, the legs of a boy wearing frayed jeans and beyond the splayed, scarred legs of a girl in shorts. Both sets of legs were tied with rope.
Someone was snoring. Someone too close. A snore from an unseen source.
Bug. The name came to her. And with it the shock of knowing that she was not dreaming, had not dreamed.
Better to close her eyes and pretend.
But the girl, Penny, her legs strained against their ropes. Diana heard a moan.
With clumsy hands Diana grabbed the chair and pulled herself up into a seated position. The urge to lie back down was almost irresistible. But hand over hand, and then numb foot over numb foot, Diana pulled herself back up and into the chair.
Caine slept. Bug snored loudly and invisibly on the floor.
Penny blinked at her. “They drugged us,” Penny said. She yawned.
“Yeah,” Diana agreed.
“They tied us up,” Penny said. “How did you get free?”
Diana rubbed her wrists, as though she had been tied up. Why hadn’t Sanjit tied her? “Loose knots.”
Penny’s head wobbled a little. Her eyes wouldn’t quite focus. “Caine’s going to kill ’em.”
Diana nodded. She tried to think. Not easy in a brain still slowed by whatever drug Sanjit had slipped her.
“They could have killed us,” Diana said.
Penny nodded. “Too scared,” she said.
Or maybe they just aren’t killers, Diana thought. Maybe they just weren’t the kind of people who could take advantage of a sleeping foe. Maybe Sanjit wasn’t the kind of kid who could cut a sleeping person’s throat.
“They’re running,” Diana said. “They’re trying to get away.”
“Never hide on this island,” Penny said. “Not for long. We’ll find them. Cut me loose.”
Penny was right, of course. Even drugged Diana knew it was true. Caine would find them eventually. And he was the kind who killed.
Her true love. He was not the beast Drake was, but something worse. Caine wouldn’t kill them in some psychotic rage. He’d kill them in cold blood. Diana staggered out of the room, moving like a drunk, slamming into a doorway, absorbing the pain, moving on. Windows. Big windows in a room so huge it made the furniture arranged here and there in separate pods look like dollhouse toys.
“Hey, untie me!” Penny demanded.
She spotted Sanjit immediately. He was in profile against a red sky, standing at the edge of the cliff. There was a little girl with him. Not Virtue, some girl Diana had not seen before.
That’s what Sanjit had been hiding: there were other kids here on the island.
Sanjit looped a rope around the girl in a sort of web. He hugged her. Leaned down to speak to her face-to-face.
No, not the killing kind, Sanjit.
Then he began to lower the clearly terrified girl out of sight. Over the cliff.
There was a shout from the other room. Bug. He yelled, “Ah ah ah ah! Get them off me!”
Bug was awake. Penny had used her power to give Bug a nice shot of fear adrenalin.
As Diana watched, Sanjit himself climbed over the side. He faced the house as he did so. Did he see Diana standing there, watching?
Diana heard Penny coming into the room, at least as wobbly as Diana herself.
“You stupid witch,” Penny snarled. “Why didn’t you untie me?”
“Bug seems to have taken care of that,” Diana answered.
She had to cut Penny off before she saw what was happening. Before she saw Sanjit.
Diana picked up a vase from a side table. Very pretty crystal. Heavy.
“This is nice,” Diana said to Penny.
Penny looked at her like she was crazy. Then Penny’s eyes focused beyond Diana. Out of the window.
“Hey!” Penny said. “They’re trying—”
Diana swung the vase and caught Penny on the side of the head. She didn’t wait to see the effect but staggered, vase still in hand, to the kitchen.
Caine was still asleep. But he wouldn’t be for long, maybe, not long enough. Penny’s power of hallucination could wake the dead. She would send terrors into Caine’s dreams and wake him as she had Bug.
Diana raised the vase over her head. It occurred to her in a moment of wry clarity that while Sanjit might not be the kind of person who would brain someone in their sleep, she apparently was.
But before she could smash the vase down on her true love’s head, Diana’s flesh erupted. Gaping red mouths appeared on her arms, gnashing with serrated shark’s teeth. The mouths were eating her alive.
