There was no mistaking it: the crack was leaking hot air.
“Touch it, Kyla,” the voice said. “Touch it and see.”
Kyla told herself she was going crazy. Told herself she had so much more she needed to worry about. Told herself to get back to the bedroom and figure out some plan for the disaster of her night.
“Trust me, Kyla. It’s important.”
As gently as she knew how, she touched the mirror.
It shattered, and Kyla saw the city on the other side.
The sight didn’t last long: a few seconds, the span of a long gasp. Kyla saw the white towers and the silver streets. She saw the everblack sky. She saw the column of silver light in the distance, rising from the city’s heart.
The column released a pulse of light, a blinding flash. It sent a fresh wave of pain slicing through her head, it blinded her, and when Kyla could see again, the city was gone.
There was nothing behind the glass but a cinder block wall.
Fernanda was at the door. “Are you all right?”
Kyla took a step back, studying the glass that had fallen into the sink. She’d cut her finger. She sucked blood from the wound, wrapped it in a wad of toilet paper. When she spoke, her voice didn’t sound like her own. “I’m fine.”
The voice from over her shoulder was silent. It was no use pretending she’d hallucinated the sound or imagined the sight of the city; whatever going insane felt like, she doubted it felt like this. She’d seen what she’d seen. She’d heard what she’d heard.
Something very, very strange was going on here. But what?
When she opened the bathroom door, Fernanda shook her head at the shattered glass. “I hope the twins do not expect us to pay for that.”
“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. I’m starving.”
“I’m not sure I want to go to the cafe. The two boys from earlier went that way a moment ago—I heard them on the porch.”
“We’ll be fine. Let’s go. We still need to speak to Sarah Powers.”
Fernanda hesitated. “Sarah was speaking to a man in her room a moment ago. It sounded like they were having an argument.”
Kyla looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was almost 7:35. “We need to get to dinner.”
“But why? Would we not be safer here?”
It’s important, Kyla wanted to say, but she had no idea why that was so. She just grabbed her gun and shrugged on her coat and plucked up the key to their room. After a long hesitation, Fernanda followed her out onto the back porch. Penelope came up the porch from the direction of Stanley’s room. Kyla watched as Fernanda took the key from her hand and stepped back into their room. “I’m sorry,” Fernanda said. “I need the toilet.”
Penelope tilted her head when she caught up with Kyla. “My sister says you look crazy tonight.”
Now, a few minutes later, Kyla stared at the bandage Hunter had wrapped around her fingers, watched the blood seep through. All of the pain and trouble they’d left behind in Fort Stockton, the fear and anxiety of what awaited them in Mexico—it seemed so pointless now. So small.
That man whispered again, just behind her ear. The man who sounded almost like her father.
“You can’t let him reach the city, Kyla.”
Can’t let who?she almost said, but didn’t bother. Somehow—and this sounded crazier than anything—Kyla knew what the man meant without knowing it.
She passed time in the booth with the boys, all of them lost to their own silence. Ethan kept rubbing his head, sipping his water. He looked even worse than she felt, if that was possible.
Penelope sat alone in the booth near the buffet, clearly lost in her own anxieties. She whispered, “Why are you so upset? It’s just a headache.”
Kyla and Ethan both looked up, glanced around the cafe. Ethan said, “Who are you talking to?”
Penelope chewed her lip. “I’ve been trying to figure that out all night.”
