“She has me,” said Thomas. “Wake her up.”
“Foolish boy.” The creature’s mouth unfurled into a sneer. “You don’t know what’s out there. You don’t know what hunts her. Vivienne Farrow has been marked for death all her life. Without me, she is nothing but bones for lesser creatures to gnaw on.”
Thomas frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The creature smiled a wholly un-Vivienne-like smile. “Too late now,” it whispered, and collapsed.
Her body pitched forward as though she were a marionette, her strings coming loose. Thomas caught her before she could hit the ground, hooking his elbows under her arms. He held her that way for a moment, studying her expression in repose. Slowly, color rose into her cheeks.
Her eyelids fluttered open, and he was met with a stare the color of cognac. Human all the way through. For several heartbeats, the only sound in the sanctuary was the two of them breathing in tandem. And then, with a gasp, Vivienne scrabbled backward out of his reach.
“It’s okay.” He held up his hands in a show of peace. “We’re okay. It’s over.”
Clutching at her gown, she peered around at the damage she’d wrought. The empty sanctuary. The broken drum lamps. A wail built in her throat and she covered her face with her hands. With a whine, the dogs lay down at her feet.
“Vivienne,” said Thomas softly. “Look at me.”
“Hey!” Eric’s shout vaulted through the sanctuary. “Over here! We found a way out.”
Tensing, Vivienne peered out from over the tops of her fingers. She looked on the cusp of flight, like the slightest sound might send her running. He didn’t want that.
“It’s just my friends,” he said, and held out his hand. “Let’s get out of here, all right? We’ll deal with the rest together.”
Hesitantly, she slipped her hand into his. Her fingers shook. Her skin was ice cold. When they went, the dogs followed, trailing behind them like shadows.
Here was the dream Vivienne had been having:
The house at night.
The moon leering in at her, its round, round face pressed against the window.
The walls veering oddly, as though nudged by some behemoth hand.
She hadn’t been alone. The boy had been there, too.
He’s not happy with you, he’d said. They’d been sitting one across from the other, Vivienne all in ribbons and the boy as white as a corpse, his dark curls matted to his brow. He’d been dressed as if he was heading to play hockey, knee pads lashed to his legs.You’ve made a mess of everything.
I’m fixing everything, actually, she’d told him. She’d been so confident. She’d been so sure.Any moment now, I’ll wake up and I’ll be perfectly human.
He’d looked startled to hear her speak. They’d been sitting so long in silence.Are you sure about that? You don’t need to do this. If you lay yourself at His feet, He’ll set you free Himself. You don’t even have to cut yourself open. He is generous. He’ll give you whatever you need.
Do you have whatever you need?
At that, the boy had smiled over at her. Water seeped out from the gaps in his teeth.I, he’d said,have never been happier.
•••
He was standing in front of her. The boy from her dream.
Or not him, exactly, but his startling likeness. Several years older. Significantly more alive. He had the same dark curls, the same straight nose, the same sharp mouth—though his was scarred at one end, a raised pink line extending nearly to his ear.
“She doesn’t say much,” he said, “does she?”
Next to him, a white-haired girl in combat boots looked aghast.“Colton.”
“It’s just an observation.”
“She’s mute,” said a second boy. He was Black and broad-shouldered, his hair cropped short. He stood propped against a narrow bookshelf, idly inspecting the spines. “We’ve covered this.”
