Hunter didn’t hesitate. He raised his hands and aimed.
There was no light. The heat that came from Hunter’s hands was invisible. But instantly the temperature in Old Lion’s head doubled, tripled, and Old Lion, his brain cooked in his skull, fell dead.
Hunter pulled his shirt back from the shoulder. The insect mouthparts gnashed, chewing on a bloody chunk of the lion.
Chapter Three
72 HOURS, 3 MINUTES
ASTRID HAD FED Little Pete.
She read a little, perched beside the window, book held at an uncomfortable angle to try and take advantage of the faint moonlight.
It was slow going.
It wasn’t a book she’d ever have read back in the old days. She wouldn’t have been caught dead reading some silly teen romance. Back then she’d have read a classic, or some work of great literary merit. Or history.
Now she needed escape. Now she needed not to be in this world, this terrible world of the FAYZ. Books were the only way out.
After just a few minutes Astrid set the book aside. Her hands were trembling. Attempt to escape into the book: failed. Attempt to forget her fear: failed. It was all right there, still, right there in front of every other thought.
Outside, a breeze caused tree branches to scrape the side of the house. A corner of Astrid’s mind noticed, and wondered, but set it aside for more pressing concerns.
She wondered where Sam was. What he was doing. Whether he was longing for her as she longed for him.
Yes, yes, she wanted him. She wanted to be in his arms. She wanted to kiss him. And maybe more. Maybe a lot more.
All of it, all the things he wanted she wanted, too.
Stupid jerk, didn’t he get that? Was he so clueless he didn’t know that she wanted it all, too?
But she wasn’t Sam. Astrid didn’t act on impulse. Astrid thought things through. Astrid the Genius, always so irritatingly in control. That was the word he’d thrown at her: control.
How could Sam not realize that if they crossed that line it would be one more sin? One more abandonment of her faith. One more surrender to weakness.
There had been too many of those. It was like little pieces of Astrid’s soul were flaking off, falling away. Some pieces not so small.
Her self-control had crumbled so swiftly it was almost comic. After all the temptations and provocations, the calm, civilized, rational girl had evaporated like a bead of water on a hot skillet, sizzle, sizzle, all gone. And what had emerged then had been pure violence.
She had tried to kill Nerezza. In screaming, out-of-control rage. The memory of it made her sick.
And that wasn’t all of it. She had wanted Sam to burn Drake to ashes even if it meant murdering Brittney as well.
Astrid couldn’t be that person. She had to put herself back together. She had to take time to rebuild herself. She was afraid she would shatter. Like a glass sculpture, chip chip chip away and all at once it would shatter into a thousand pieces.
And yet, a cool, calculating part of her knew she could not alienate Sam too much. Because it was only a matter of time before everyone else figured out that there was a way out of the FAYZ.
The exit door was right in front of them. Lying just a few feet from Astrid.
A simple act of murder . . .
Others had seen what Astrid had seen on that cliff, when Little Pete’s mind had blanked out, overwhelmed by the loss of his stupid toy game.
A simple act of murder . . .
She sat beside her motionless brother. She ought to brush his teeth. Ought to change his pajamas. Ought to . . .
His forehead was damp.