Hayes huffed a breath into the double cuff of his palms. “I don’t know what to tell you, Price. It’s all Schiller in there. And he’s a mess. He’s been vomiting up everything we’ve tried to put in him since they got back to town. It’s not looking good.”
On cue, the door of the Range Rover was thrown wide. The keening babble of a boy’s voice pitched out, high and afraid.
“Malus navis,” Schiller cried. “Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave.”
This wasn’t, Colton thought, how victory was meant to feel.
Meeker emerged from the back seat, shoving the cuffs of his sleeves up around his elbows. A sour smell followed him out.
“Schiller blew chunks all over my jacket,” he griped.
“You can buy a new jacket,” Colton said.
“Yeah, and maybe you can buy a new personality,” Meeker fired back, stalking across the sidewalk. “I’m getting real sick of your shit, you know that? What the hell were you thinking?” Meeker shoved Colton back a half step, his hands reeking of sick. “Bringing her to the hospital? Huh?”
“Back off, Meeker.” Hayes rose from the bench with a stretch. “You’re making a scene.”
Meeker tried and failed to shove Colton a second time, corralled by Hayes as the senior stepped neatly between them. Jabbing a finger in Colton’s direction, Meeker snarled, “Boss has had it with you. He says it’s time for you to pay the piper. You know what that means?”
Colton felt impossibly tired as he made his way to the curb and climbed into the back seat. Schiller sat beside him, eyes wide and features gaunt. Packed into the reeking Rover like corpses in a hearse. Both of them drawn to that same unfailing light.
“I know what it means,” Colton said. “I’m just surprised you do.”
“Price,” Hayes warned, buckling himself into the driver’s seat.
“What a typical response,” Meeker spat, guiding the front passenger door shut. “You think you’re smarter than me? You’ve been walking around acting like the rules don’t apply to you, flashing that trust-fund grin. But that’s all over now. When we get home, I’m going to carve the arrogance right out of your goddamned face.”
“That’s great,” Colton said. “Can you shut up for a second?”
“Do you see this shit?” Meeker threw up his hands, looking over at Hayes for validation. “Do you see how he talks to me?”
Colton tuned him out, his focus trained on Schiller. The junior rocked back and forth on his seat, teeth chattering, a blue bucket clutched tightly in his hands.
“Nate,” Colton said.
Schiller’s eyes flicked to his. He went still as a rabbit. “That’s me,” he said. “Nate Schiller. Nathaniel David Schiller, Ten Cross Road.”
Colton grimaced. “You feeling okay?”
“No,” Schiller said. “I’m going to puke.”
Hayes’s eyes met Colton’s in the rearview mirror. “See what I mean? There’s nothing in there anymore. It’s gone.”
“Which raises the next most obvious question,” Colton said. “Where did it go?”
Delaney was dreaming again. This time, she was standing in a field. The ground was riddled with divots, dug as if by a spade. She moved through them, bare feet pressed to patches of winter-dormant grass. Shallow graves stretched out in the dirt on either side of her. In the first, she found a femur, thin enough to have belonged to something small and mammalian. In the second, a skull, fanged teeth sharp as a cat’s. In the third, she found a face. Eyes open. Mouth blue. Half-buried in sod.
Somewhere in the distance, water ran and ran. Something heavy was dragging itself through the mud. Closer. Closer. She stumbled backward and smacked into a figure, tall and solid. Turning, she found Colton Price rooted beneath a black hole sky. He was staring without seeing. He was speaking without making sound.
Non omnis moriar.He mouthed it over and over, in an endless litany. His eyes were a strange, spectral black. His mouth was full of teeth.
“Who are you?”she asked.
His eyes met hers. His stare was dark and cold. Nobody,he said.
She wanted to wake up. She wanted to wake up. She wanted to—
***
