“He’s just telling me that he’s better than me. That I don’t have the power he does. Crap like that. That’s mainly what he always tells me.”
“Ask him what he wants.”
“I have, Dad. All the time. The only thing he tells me is that I will have to make a choice soon. And how much I suck. That’s it!”
“Try again. Ask him what he wants.”
“Oh, Dad, come on.”
“Ask him.”
I felt like a fool getting ready to talk to the voice in my head in front of my family. I looked at my sisters. Both of them gave encouraging little nods. I closed my eyes. “What is it you want?”
The voice didn’t reply. Not so much as a smartass retort.
“Anything?” Dad almost sounded excited, like he was getting a new toy at Christmas or something.
“Fine.” I closed my eyes tighter, put all my energy into reaching out into the blackness. “What is it you want?”
A blazing, white-hot flare stabbed through my brain, causing me to yell and my eyes to roll back into my head.
Mom reached out and grasped my face in her hands. “Stop! Don’t ask him anything else! Stop!”
Gradually, the pain lessened—like a cramp slowly diminishing. I wiped my eyes and opened them cautiously.
Mom’s terrified face was mere inches from mine. “Don’t speak to it again. We’ll find a way to fight it. Him. We will find a way to fight him.”
I rubbed my temples. “I’ve tried not speaking to him, Mom. He always comes back.”
“When did you start hearing him?”
I looked at Cynthia. She knew the answer. I could tell. “That day when I left you with Brett, I was looking for the Square. I sent out my energy when I knew I was close to where Jake had taken me. It found me then. I’ve heard it on and off since then. Sometimes he doesn’t say anything for a bit, and then he’ll talk, well, harass is more like it, nearly incessantly for days.”
“So obviously, Paulette is right. The voice and the Square are connected.” Dad paused as he thought for a moment. “Do you hear him more when you’re there?”
“I did at the beginning, but now I hardly hear him at all when I’m there.”
Dad thought some more. “You say he’s mean. Is he always mean?”
“Yeah, or rude or sarcastic. Pretty much.”
“Does he tell you to do things or ask you for stuff?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t bring myself to tell them the things he encouraged me to do. That I’d followed his suggestions about Spor countless times over the past weeks.
“He wants you to be there. For some reason, if he’s leaving you alone when you’re at the Square, he wants you to be there.”
“Oh, sweetheart!” Mom clasped my cheeks again. “You can’t go back there. Promise me you won’t go back there!”
No problem there. I’d already decided that had to end. “I promise. I’m done with that place. Nothing good has come out of it.”
“He may not have a choice.”
Mom looked over at Dad, her eyes flashing. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if whoever that warlock is wants him there, he’ll probably make it so Finn doesn’t have a choice.” He motioned toward my head. “You saw what he just did. If he’s able to cause pain, I doubt he will sit back and take no for an answer.”
Mom’s face fell, aging her again. “What are we supposed to do?”
