“Iris, there’s nothing to worry about.” Mrs. Klein shifted forward, then faltered, her eyes flicking to me, as if checking for my approval before she continued toward her sister.
Instantly, I sensed the danger. “Mrs. Klein?—”
“I said get heraway!” Iris’s fingers had clamped onto her own head, twisting into her hair, pulling it out by the roots. Mrs. Klein stopped, paralyzed. New blood welled against her sister’s brow. “Now. Make her gonow. She’ll hurt me.”
“She won’t, Iris,” Mrs. Klein tried again, her words desperate. “She’s trying to help.”
I began with the first psalm, the one Mordechai always started with, the one that flowed like a cool mist from his lips but sounded harsh and jangly coming from mine. “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High, will rest in the shadow of El Shaddai?—”
“Make hergo-o-o-o.” Iris’s cry stretched out too long this time, and her fear was palpable, a living thing.
I didn’t stop my recitation. If anything, my words gained strength as I spoke them, even as my stomach twisted and rolled. “…Surely he will save youfrom the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence…”
“How canyoudothis to me?” Iris clenched her hands into fists and banged the wall behind her. Surprise, rage, indignation, and horror all played over her face, its thin skin stretched to the point of translucence over bulging veins. Her mouth gaped, displaying worn-down teeth and a pale, twisting tongue, trying to work up enough saliva to spit at me. The first bug crawled out from her cracked lips.
I took another step toward the old woman. As Mrs. Klein half-sobbed, Iris screamed something I couldn’t understand, then jerked against the wall as if I’d shoved her. I tracked her movements, seeing and smelling and tasting her truth like I always did, even when I didn’t want to. Beneath the spit andthrashing, I caught a flicker of what Iris once had been—a happy woman, a contented wife, comfortable and neat…and not alone.
“No,” the creature in front of me wailed now, spewing more bugs—fat ground beetles, earwigs, even a couple glossy roaches. Her eyes rolled back in her head so fast, I almost didn’t catch her glance as it raked across my face.
Almost. But not quite.
Got you.
I might have laughed if my stomach weren’t heaving. Fear churned through me at what would come next, but I’ddoneit. I’d seen the thing inside Iris. And it’d seen me too.
You’re so good at this, the voice whispered.
“Focus,” I thought back, but my pulse quickened anyway as the ghost of a laugh slipped through me, and for a second—just a second—I rode that pleasure, savoring it as I stared into Iris’s eyes.
“I see you,” I hissed.
The old woman spasmed, her stasis cracking with another slam of her head against the wall. Her scream became a howl of anguish. Then she tried to climbintothe wall, scrabbling at its surface as her sister gasped. Apparently, this was a new experience for Mrs. Klein.
Not for me.
I stalked toward the creature hiding within Iris, certainty locking into place with each step.
The temperature dropped. Not gradually, but all at once, like someone had opened a freezer door. My breath misted in the suddenly frigid air. Behind me, Mrs. Klein whimpered.
The lightbulb overhead flickered. Once. Twice. In the stuttering light, I saw something jitter in Iris’s shadow. Something with too many angles, that didn’t match her movements.
“I see you,” I hissed.”
Anger licked and rattled through me, my inner voice howling with full-blown rage.
How dare you try to get away—how dare you? You know why I’m here. You all know, have always known. All of you know.
Iris’s gnarled fingers clawed at the faded wallpaper already shredded to tatters. The place suddenly reeked like an outhouse, the stench overwhelming. Mrs. Klein staggered back, retreating to the doorway of the room. She gagged for air and retched loudly, desperate not to leave her sister but unable to come any closer.
I smiled, leaning forward into the rotted stench of Iris’s breath.
“Bring it, you bastard,” I muttered.
It was showtime.
Chapter
Three
