I must be stunned by his announcement—she has them all—because he wedges a knee between my legs and jerks upward. The pain is instant and he escapes from my grasp. I grab the knife but when I face him again he’s fumbling with the lid on one of his containers. Flipping the cap with his thumb, he tosses it in my face. Powder rains and I cough and rub my eyes. He may be smaller than me but he’s resourceful.
Through the haze I spot him shoving more items in his bag and then tossing it over his shoulder.
“Think of it this way,” he says, inching toward the paintings. My throat is clogged with the powder. I spit, trying to clear my mouth, my throat. I struggle to breathe but I’ve still got the blade in my hand. “Now you’ll have her all to yourself.”
Cold blasts through the room and even though my squinted eyes I see the ripple appear in one of the paintings. Bunny steps one foot inside and I close my eyes, pulling my arm back and releasing the blade in a fluid motion. I hear the same pop from before and the stick of my knife, followed by a crash. I blink, expecting to find him on the ground but no, it’s just his bag. The blade wobbles, sticking out of the middle of the painting.
I’m alone.
Grabbing a rag from the workbench I clean my face, wiping the powder from my eyes. Then I walk over and stare at the picture, holding my hand over the surface. I’m afraid to touch it—afraid of where it may lead me. If Bunny was telling the truth then the other Guardians are in trouble and I’ll have to find them.
The knife entered right in the middle of the castle, the place I assume Bunny traveled to. Without touching the canvas I yank the handle and the blade slides out. There’s now a huge hole gouged in the middle. I’m both worried and relieved that this may make the painting useless. At least no one can slip back through this one.
I hear footsteps in the hall and I brace myself, but I know the sound of her anywhere and it’s no surprise when Morgan walks through the door. Her eyes bulge at the scene, at my powder-covered face.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I can’t answer that. “Are you?”
She nods. “Anita is downstairs. Davis showed me the cells.”
“You didn’t kill her. Good.”
“I wanted to.”
I sigh and rub my head. “I almost killed Bunny.”
Our eyes shift to the painting. To the hole left by my knife. “But you didn’t?” she asks.
“No, but I probably should have.” The exhaustion of what’s to come hangs over my head. I don’t want to tell her. I’ve let her down—no, I failed.
Something about her expression tells me she already knows. Even so, that knowledge doesn’t keep her from walking over, from resting her cheek on my chest and wrapping her arms around me.
“They’re gone,” I say over her head. I’m glad I can’t see her face.
“We’ll get them back.”
I stare at the paintings. At the lunacy that had been running through Bunny’s head. That’s what the Otherside does to you. It makes you crazy. It makes you hard. I don’t want to tell Morgan that even if we get them back they may never be the same.