“Yes?” Dekka asked.

“I overheard someone talking earlier,” Edilio said. “Am I right that Malik was trapped in this Over There place when he lost his grip on Francis’s hand?”

Malik said, “Yes. She can move between dimensions. She can carry someone with her, but only so long as there’s physical contact.” He cocked his head quizzically. “So?”

“So,” Edilio said, sighing, clearly not liking what he was saying. “Has it occurred to you that this represents a powerful weapon? Anyone she touches . . . She can strand them.”

From the blank looks, that had not occurred to any of them. Shade certainly hadn’t thought of it. Eyes turned in near-perfect synchrony toward Francis.

“Could you do that?” Dekka asked. “And would you?” Shade heard a quiver in her voice.

She’s asking a child if she’ll drag people to limbo.

Francis didn’t answer glibly. She seemed to be running it through her head, watching it happen.

Francis started nodding, just a little, then a quick up and down. “Yes. This is war, right? Yes.”

Shade happened to meet Dekka’s gaze, and there was a strange, frozen moment of a shared emotion. Shame.

This is war, right? The facile, all-purpose excuse for any horror committed in the name of victory.

She thought then of what Dekka had done to Detective Williams. What he had begged her to do, what everyone agreed was an act of mercy. It was. But Shade could sense it twisting and twisting inside Dekka.

Shade reached for Malik; his back was to her. She just wanted to put her hand on his shoulder, wanted to make some kind of contact. She saw in her imagination, in her memory, th

e real Malik, the ruined boy who’d have been safely back at Northwestern if not for his foolish taste in women.

And Cruz . . .

And now Francis.

Not the time. Not the time.

This is war, right?

Then she met Dekka’s gaze again. The shame was gone. The doubt was gone. There was a feral snarl on Dekka’s lips, and Shade felt something like a bolt of electricity pass between them. Dekka winked.

Then Dekka took in a deep breath, lowered her face, and shook her head just enough to send her dreads flying. And when she looked up, every eye was on her.

“Everyone scared? Good. Scared is good, but hesitation is not.” She looked each person in the eye, and Shade would have sworn that each of them stood taller.

“This is important, what we’re doing. This is the future of the world. And that’s not bullshit. We’ve all by now been in one kind of fight or another, and this may be the worst. But it’s also the most important. If we all do what we’re supposed to, we’ll be all right.”

A lie, Shade thought. Every single one of them knew it was a lie. But it was a reassuring one. And having seen what Markovic could do, they all needed reassuring.

CHAPTER 26

Hello There, Drake

THE FIRST THING Drake noticed was that the doorknob to Astrid and Sam’s apartment was misshapen. It looked crushed, like someone had put the aluminum knob into a vise. It troubled him at some obscure level. It was wrong. Out of place.

But whatever. So their apartment building was poorly maintained, so what? She was in there, Astrid, just beyond the door. He could hear a female voice humming.

He had a crowbar and stuffed the sharp edge between door and jamb, just above the knob and below a bolt lock. He leaned against it, testing.

“Knock, knock,” Brittany said, and began laughing.

“Shut up, you idiot,” Drake snapped.

Tags: Michael Grant Gone
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