Kieran spun round.
No one was there. Just the shimmer of extreme heat and vague shadows, figures suggested rather than formed, as if his mind refused to give them bodies.
‘Hello?’ His voice sounded wrong here. Too solid.
The sand gave way beneath his feet. He stumbled forward – and suddenly he was inside a building.
A corridor stretched ahead, impossibly long, its walls smooth and pale, the floor polished to a blinding sheen. His reflection warped beneath his feet as he walked. Overhead, a massive fan turned lazily, stirring the thick air.
The corridor opened into a vast room. At its centre stood a pinball machine. Notthepinball machine. And yet it was – but larger, taller, brighter. Its lights pulsed with a slow, steady rhythm that matched the beat of Kieran’s heart. The familiar music grated at his nerves, louder here, distorted.
‘Don’t touch it,’ Jinnie said sharply.
‘Touch it,’ Wilma countered immediately.
‘Who’s the demi-Djinn around here?’ Sam muttered.
‘Careful, love,’ Jo said, and this time there was no mistaking the warning.
Kieran didn’t mean to move, but his hand pressed the launch button anyway.
The ball shot up the channel. It wasn’t the usual cheap silvery metal. It was gold. Warm, almost alive.
It struck the bumpers, and with each impact the room flashed.
The night of the storm at the pub.
Candles guttering.
Prom wearing a paper crown.
Beth’s laugh.
Beth’s mouth on his.
The score climbed. Faster. Faster.
A burning sensation crept into his wrists and his chest ached as if something inside him was being wound too tight.
‘Stop,’ he said, though he wasn’t sure who he was talking to.
The glass rippled.
A face pressed through from the other side, the features forming slowly, deliberately. Amber eyes. A smile that knew too much. ‘You wonder why you hear me,’ it said.
The voices rose again, overlapping.
‘He’s not ready.’
‘He will be.’
‘You’re already involved.’
‘You always were.’
The machine shuddered violently. Lights flickered.
The face leaned closer, flattening against the glass until Kieran could see every line, every glint of amusement. ‘You’re closer than you think,’ it murmured. ‘And she’s closer than she knows.’
