It feels like I’ve been punched in the gut. “Are you telling me that even if the person wanted to help you, they couldn’t?”
“If it involves admitting that we were… together with that person, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I can say I was with Patrick. Patrick can admit he was with me. Our third’s identity can never be revealed, not even by them.” Suddenly unsteady on his feet, River stumbles back and sits back down on the cot, dropping his head into his hands.
“I’ll talk to Patrick. I’ll figure out a way, River. It just might take me a few days.”
He stares at me, and his hands start to shake. His voice sounds tight and raspy as he says, “A few days…”
I check my watch. “We only have a few minutes more. Do you know anything at all about the victim?”
“No,” River says firmly. “I’d never seen him before. Nothing odd about that. He was human. They come and go.”
“Right. But he didn’t say anything to you in his last moments?”
River shakes his head. “He had a bullet hole in his heart and was bleeding out. I think he had a lot on his mind.”
“I’m just trying to help.”
His eyes narrow and he lifts his chin to look at me, a memory sparking behind his eyes. “He had a rock in his hand.”
“A rock?”
“Yeah. It might not mean anything, and I only noticed it because he was gripping it in his fist and I knew the moment he died because his hand went slack and it rolled off his palm.”
“What kind of rock? Like a jewel?”
He shook his head. “An ordinary gray rock.”
I glance at my watch. We’re out of time. “You’ll be okay, River. I’ll find a way to get you out.” The words have to squeeze around the lump forming in my throat.
He raises his red-rimmed eyes to meet mine, and his voice is strained as he says, “The food appears, Sophia. No one comes in, not ever. You are the first living person I’ve seen since—”
The stone snaps back into place, cutting him off. It startles me and I jump. The light shifts from engulfing me to shining on a silver platter beside the stone. Only then do I remember the apple in my trembling hands. Careful not to drop it, I place it on the platter. My throat is dry and my heart pounds.
River is still in there. He’s alone. Truly alone.
A shiver runs through me, and then my breath stops altogether when a pale hand extends from the darkness above the silver tray. Yellow nails tapered to sharp points jut from bony fingers wrapped in pockmarked skin. Round suction cups like sores honeycomb the palm of the hand, and as it wraps around the apple, I hear each of them bite into its flesh like tiny mouths. Juice dribbles from the fist, and then the hand, and the fruit, is gone.
I cover my mouth to keep from screaming and hurry toward the exit. But I slow my steps as I near Chance Delaney’s cell. Thinking about Chance twists my gut, as if I’ve swallowed a worm that’s gnawing my insides, wriggling dark and deadly somewhere I can’t reach. If he’d had his way, I’d be in a cell in the basement of his hunting cabin, starved, beaten, and likely raped. He’s the rot on the underbelly of a diseased snake, and the last thing I want is to see him again.
But I can’t shake the thought that this murder has something to do with him. Someone used his computer to tamper with the security cameras. Leprechaun luck cleared the area before the murder. One of the last things he said to me before I put an arrow in his shoulder was that he was working with others to sabotage Dragonfly Hollow. He’d never told me who, just that it was bigger than me. Bigger than all of us.
And then the horrifying suspicion I had before comes to me again. What if he’s not behind that stone? He is considered by most to be the most powerful leprechaun alive. What if he figured out a way to escape and he’s responsible for the murder? It would be the perfect crime. Everyone would assume he was still here.
I have to know. I have to see for myself that he’s in there.
My eyes fall on the platter. I only brought one apple, and I used it for River. Reaching for my purse, I wonder if I could just leave money. That seems like it would pass as an offering. I dig in the center compartment, and my hand falls on a square container of cubes of berry-flavored gum. Hmm. Gum or money. If I had a dozen mouths on my hands, I’d want the yummy gum, not the filthy money.
Gum in hand, I step into the circle. The light turns on, and the stone melts away. What I see inside makes me thankful I haven’t eaten today. Chance is there—I take some comfort in that—but he stands at the wall, writing something in his own blood. Gibberish. I can make out letters but no coherent words. His fingers are raw, gripped around a pointed chip of stone. Blood drips from a gash in his arm—his ink.
He stops and slowly turns his head. I’m once again disgusted by his resemblance to Seven. Aside from graying temples and smaller eyes that remind me of a rat’s, there’s no question they’re related, although he’s gaunt compared to the last time I saw him and a short beard covers his jaw. His hair is longer too.
“Well, well, well, little bird. How nice of you to visit my cage. If only you could step inside, we could have such fun together.”
Eww. Everything about this moment makes me feel sick, but I have ten minutes with this asshole and maybe he knows something that can help us. “Who is responsible for the murder in Wonderland, Chance?”
A dark and wicked laugh bubbles from his chest. He lowers his chin and stares at me like a wolf stalking its prey. “I told you it wouldn’t end with me, little bird. The hydra has many heads.”
“Give me a name. Tell me who you were working with. Who might have done this?”
