Houses crowd closer together. The trees thin out. Billboards start popping up, advertising all kinds of stuff: lawyers, fast food, a church sign threatening the end of the world. You name it.
“Is this really where the crows take us?” Talon asks from the backseat.
“Seems like it,” Cassian murmurs. “We’re drifting into a city.”
The green sign over the road reads:
WELCOME TO ASHFORD HOLLOW – POP. 187,402
The numbers are scratched out, and someone’s scrawled a crude dick next to them.
Feels about right.
The crows drop lower, weaving through a forest of lampposts and wires, so low it’s harder to track them. A few moments later, I lose sight of them.
“Anybody else think those fuckers are here?” Cassian asks. “There’s just something in the air…”
And he’s right. Maybe not in the literal sense, the way he means it—but I do feel like the crows have served their purpose.
The problem?
The killers aren’t standing in the middle of the road or anything.
“Alex should appear soon,” I say. “Without her, or the crows, we’re as good as lost.”
“Well, we could search for a white van nearby…” Talon muses.
But there doesn’t seem to be one.
We drive like this for the next ten minutes, and nothing.
By then, I start thinking that unless I try something, nothing will change.
“Pain!” I scream into the air. I think Mark jumps in his seat. “Pain, can you hear me?”
If I can contact Pain and convince him to help us, we won’t be reliant on Alex or the crows. We can just find the killers the classic way. I bet it would take us half the time, too.
Silence.
Thick, stubborn silence.
I try again, louder.
“Pain!”
Nothing.
Cassian stiffens. His hands tighten on the wheel.
“Skye…” he says.
“Pain!” I shout again.
Still nothing.
Either he can’t hear me… or he won’t.
And I don’t know which possibility is worse.
