A cracking noise cut her short. Jo turned to the window pane at her left. It fractured, like thin ice in the winter, and then shattered. The house’s alarm went off like a screeching bell. Jo turned back to the Door—but it was gone, vanished completely.
Jo slapped her palm against the Bone Carver’s bedroom door. “Come back, come back,” she demanded. “How am I supposed to get out of here?”
Suddenly, the alarm stopped. Jo looked to the window, confirming that the cracks were still there, that she hadn’t fallen into some weird time-loop. They were, which meant the alarm had been disarmed manually.
She didn’t have a chance to contemplate what that actually meant, because the bedroom door opened to put her nose-to-nose with the Bone Carver. He stood, staring right at her—not through, not beyond, not anywhere else butather. As if he could—
“So it’s you again,” he said, with an almost playful smile.
Chapter 15
Trade
Jo didn’t respond.
She just stood there, mouth agape, staring at the man in the doorframe. She felt like prey, frozen before a predator she believed would not attack her if she didn’t move. In turn, he simply stood as well, doing nothing more than smiling—as if seeing her was some kind of happy accident. Like she was a friend who had stopped by to return a sweater or drop off a card.
“Is there something I can help you with?” he asked.
“I-I-I . . .” She took a large gulp of air, swallowed it hard and tried to pull herself together. “Can you see me?”
“What kind of a question is that? Of course I can see you.”
Jo raised her wrist. She gave the Bone Carver one last long stare before glancing down just long enough to check her bio band. Sure enough, her stopwatch was not counting down.
She wasn’t clocked into time.
“Perhaps we should go downstairs?” He stepped back, motioning toward the stairwell. “We can have a seat in the living room. I imagine it would be far more comfortable than standing here, and I can sort out whatever it is you require.”
Jo’s eyes darted between his hand in the stairwell. All she could remember was Wayne’s comments about sitting people down before carving them up. Jo didn’t even know if shecouldbe carved up, could be killed at all. But if the USB was any indicator, she could feel some pain at the very least. She also didn’t have many options, given how the Door was acting.
So she took his suggestion and started down the stairs. All the while Jo could feel his eyes on her back. It was the longest fifteen stairs in the history of mankind.
“You’re actually lucky you caught me,” the Bone Carver said as he brushed by her, heading into the kitchen. He continued their conversation by projecting his voice, until Jo followed to stand in the doorframe. “I was just coming home from work, stopping in before I head out to happy hour with a few friends. The alarm went off right as I was pulling in. I can imagine what the police would’ve done with you.”
She would’ve preferred the police.
“I. . . Do you know who I am?” It was a weird question to ask, because of course he didn’t know who she was. She barely knew who he was.
“Not quite. Where are my manners?” The man quickly wiped his hands on a dishtowel before crossing over quickly and holding out a hand. “The name is Charlie. And you are?”
“Um, Jo.” She only gave him her nickname. Even if she no longer existed in this world, the friends and family she loved still did, and the last thing Jo wanted to do was tell a serial killer where her mother lived (regardless if the woman remembered her or not).
“Jo,” he repeated. “A pleasure to meet you, Jo. Would you prefer coffee or tea?”
A jarring layer of non-reality settled over her. This couldn’t be real; it wasn’t real. There was no way this interaction was actually happening.
“Jo?” he repeated when he didn’t get an answer.
“Oh, coffee please.” She didn’t really want to take anything from the man, but she also didn’t want to risk setting him off by refusing him. Maybe the caffeine would wake her up from whatever dream she had fallen into.
“Perfect. Black?”
“Sure.” Jo paused and watched him make coffee. Once more, the normalcy of the situation only served to create further confusion and panic. It didn’t feel like she was a member of the Society and it didn’t feel like he was a serial killer. It felt like they were two friends catching up. “When I asked if you know who I am, I didn’t mean my name.”
“What did you mean?”
“I meant. . .” Jo trailed off. Everything she could think to say sounded insane, but what was happening was already certifiably insane, so she might as well lean into it. “Do you know that I’m not human?”
