But Lee didn’t answer because the game had already begun.
“Very good,” his mom said.
Lee stared at the ceiling of the car—a car he was sure he had never been in before. The seats had a plastic coating that squealed when he moved, but that just made the game more challenging, which Lee appreciated. He could feel the car parts clicking and whirring beneath his spine, could tell they were getting on the highway.
Why isn’t Dad playing?Lee wanted to ask. But then he would lose the game.
The sky flashed by faster and faster through the windows, the stars smearing together.This is part of the game, Lee thought.This is how she’ll take us to ancient Egypt.
Sirens wailed in the distance. Lee stayed perfectly still, even when they grew louder and louder, screaming in his ear. The sky turned blue and red, and his mom said nothing at all to him as the car slowed down and stopped, the engine clicking as it cooled down.
“Where is he?”
That was his father’s voice. Lee turned his head toward it, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be a mummy, but his mom hadn’t noticed, so maybe he hadn’t lost the game.
“He’s fine,” she said. A car door slammed, and their voices became muffled.
Then the door at Lee’s feet opened up and bright light washedover his face. He winced, could barely make out his father’s shadow eclipsing the light. His father scooped him up off the seat and held him close.
“Are you okay?” his father said.
“I’m a mummy,” Lee said.
His father let out a tense breath. Lee could see his mother talking to police officers, but she didn’t look worried, so Lee wouldn’t worry either.
“We were playing a game,” Lee said.
But his father didn’t answer, didn’t care. He stopped looking at Lee’s mother after that. Even when he made her tea or held her hand, it was as if he couldn’t quite bear to look in her eyes. Lee didn’t understand it back then, until his father stopped looking at him too.
They never finished the game. At least, that was what Lee thought.
Chapter Eleven
Sen
Sen’s father was lost in the woods.
He had gone out that morning before sunrise. Now the sun was setting, Sen’s mother was calling everyone back for dinner, and her father still had not returned.
Sen stood at the edge of the forest and listened for his footsteps over dead leaves; his breaths, which were growing deeper and more labored as he aged; the shifting leaves of the branches that he brushed out of his way. But no sound came, and the forest held its breath.
Where have you gone?Sen thought as the leaves shivered around her. She imagined the forest eating her father, vines winding down his throat and ears, roots shackling his wrists and ankles, dragging him into wet dirt. She opened her mouth to call for him, but thought better of it. The person in the forest was not her father, and she did not know this creature’s name.
Instead, she turned her face to the white sky, which was slowly deepening into auburn. There was not even a hint of smoke in the air.
Of course the demon had lied to her. Sen was embarrassedthat she’d even wondered if his words were true. All he had done was remind her that she was weak.
Something flashed in the corner of Sen’s vision. She whipped her head around and caught the tail end of a flashing light, the same as the other night. It wasn’t yet dark, so it couldn’t be the bullfrogs. The light flashed again, and Sen grew more and more certain that it must have been a spyglass catching the harsh edge of the setting sun. Someone was watching her family.
Footsteps crunched through the forest. Sen turned to the right, where the trees began to shake.
And there was her father, drenched in red.
At first, Sen thought he was wearing scarlet gloves. But then the smell of salt reached her, and she realized that her father’s hands were glossy, dribbling a crimson trail behind him. A streak of red marred his face near his mouth, a single sharp line.
“Are you hurt?” Sen asked, rushing forward.
Her father shook his head. “It’s fox blood. I wounded one, but it escaped before I could properly kill it.”
