And Hayden’s with them. He’s leaning over Jules, cupping something in his hands. A rococo table stands next to him, medical instruments laid out in two neat, glittering rows across the top.
Lilly doesn’t hesitate. Neither do I. Lilly tosses me a jeweled dagger. Pulls a long, thin saber from her belt loop. We approach out of the darkness.
Hayden sees us. Grins.
“The savage feast returns,” he growls, and it’s not Hayden’s voice. It’s like a dozen voices at once, strand after strand of grating, whining sound. “But they will not eat you this time. No, they will not eat you.”
We’re steps away when I notice the fourth figure. Standing behind Hayden, blending with the shadows. A small shape, like a little kid. He’s wearing an old-fashioned frock coat with pronged tails, flickering like a dark red flame in the blackness.
I lunge forward and bury the dagger in Hayden’s shoulder. There’s almost nothing left of the guy in the private school blazer, swaggering up to us in JFK. His hair is falling out of his head in patches. His cheeks are shadowy hollows. His lips have started to draw inward, shriveling.
He doesn’t even flinch as the blade goes through his shoulder. Doesn’t move. He’s looking past me, into space, his palms still outstretched like he’s been frozen in place. The figure in the shadows remains motionless.
“Hayden?” I stare at him, horrified.
I jerk the dagger out. It releases with a metallic grating sound.
No blood. No reaction. Hayden’s not breathing.
“Get them,” Lilly says, in a tiny panicked whisper. “Hurry!”
I spin and start sawing frantically at Will’s ropes. Lilly begins hacking at the binds tying Jules to his chair. One rope cut through. Two. I sling Will’s arm over my shoulder and start dragging him away over the rocky floor.
He weighs a ton. I hear his breathing next to my ear, shallow and raspy.
“Lilly?” I whip around. She’s following, Jules leaning into her, almost toppling her over. Hayden still hasn’t moved.
But the small figure has.
His face is turned toward us. He’s watching us drag the boys desperately away.
And suddenly Hayden starts after us.
“I can’t let you do that!” he calls out, and he sounds like Hayden again, his East Coast accent, golden boy attitude, silver spoon confidence. But the voice came from the small figure in the shadows.
“Lilly, RUN!” I raise the dagger, hoping I can somehow fend Hayden off. He’s hulking toward us, head lowered, eyes flat and wet, reflecting the fluorescent lighting. His shirt’s torn, and under it I glimpse metal, curling tubes, maybe glass, embedded in his chest. Deep, glimmering wounds. Too many wounds. You can’t survive that many wounds.
I hear a new sound: the ring of dozens of feet clattering down the stairs.
Lilly reaches me. “Dorf,” she whispers. “They’re here.”
I spin. The tanks stand silently, the bodies floating inside, calm and ghostly. The steps are still ringing with descending feet. And now I see figures emerging out of the dark, dozens of them, thrown into stark relief against the green glow: Havriel. Miss Sei. Row after row of trackers, red lights piercing the gloom.
“Found you!” Havriel yells, his voice booming up to the ceiling. I look over my shoulder. Hayden’s approaching fast. We let Will and Jules down as gently as we can onto the ground.
Havriel breaks into a run. Miss Sei is gesturing sharply to the trackers. A black case is being passed forward through the ranks.
Havriel reaches us seconds before Hayden does. He ducks under my dagger, whirling. Knocks me sideways. Pain lances through my shoulder. Lilly lets loose a banshee shriek and swings her sabre toward Havriel.
Now Hayden’s smashing into me. It’s like he doesn’t even see me. My dagger catches on his arm. Hayden swings it toward me, dagger and all, and I drop, scrabbling over the stones. I’m surrounded by legs, screams. Lilly’s swinging her sabre in desperate arcs, trying to keep Havriel at bay. The trackers are forming a ring, Miss Sei pressing to the front. I hear that buzz again, inching into my brain, and my chest is aching, my lungs pressing against my damaged ribs like they’re trying to jump ship–––
I stand just in time to see Hayden’s head jerk and smash into Havriel’s skull. Havriel retreats a step. But he’s only caught off guard for a second.
“There you are,” Havriel wheezes, grinning. “I was wondering where you’d gotten off to. Did you enjoy your little afterlife?”
Havriel’s eyes narrow. He steps forward again, and I see he’s got a gun. He presses it to Hayden’s stomach. Shots fill my ears, ringing in the cavern, again and again, a deafening string of noise. Hayden lurches backward. Falls to the ground. Havriel keeps shooting, until the gun clicks. Smoke rises gently from Hayden’s ruined chest.
Havriel tosses the gun aside and turns on us.