He doubles over and the air comes out of him in a whoosh. His grip on my hair is momentarily loosened as my knee connects solidly with his head and I yank myself free, ripping some of my hair out as I go.
I try to run for the window again as I hear the door bang open behind me, but it’s too late. Vince grabs my arm, swinging me down, and I hit the floor, hard. I roll to my knees, expecting him to come at me again, but my mind registers that I’m watching him struggle with someone else in the shadows, possibly the hated Josh. Maybe he overheard the plan and is eliminating his enemy first. Now is my chance. I have to get out of here.
They crash into the closet door and I am diving for the window, hitting the ledge painfully with my chest and scrambling to pull myself through. Two strong hands grab my hips, pulling me back in, but I’m fighting with all my might, kicking hard.
“Jessa!” comes a whisper, urgent and then repeated until I realize who it is.
Finn pulls me back against him, hugging me fiercely. “Come on! We only have a minute before they’re all here.” He leads me to step over Vince’s body—I don’t know if he’s knocked out or dead, and I don’t really want to know.
“We could run for it,” I pant.
“We’ll never make it,” he says. “They’re expecting that.” He pulls me along, up the stairs and into a bedroom. Here, the windows face a mirror over the dresser, and there are no curtains to obscure the thin light of the moon. But is it enough? The mirror has a large crack down the center, and I can still barely see myself.
“I tried this in the other house,” I tell him, gasping for air. “It didn’t work. I couldn’t—”
Downstairs a door flies open, and I can hear them pounding up the steps.
“Get your hand on the mirror and don’t let go of me.” He holds one hand in a steel grip and I concentrate as hard as I can, pushing on the mirror with my other hand next to his.
His face is shadowy in the reflection, and he’s squeezing my other hand so hard it should hurt. Instead, I cling to it.
The other two men burst into the room a moment later, and I catch a glimpse of their startled faces in the mirror. They’ve brought light with them—a makeshift torch—and it’s all we need.
Finn calls my name to get me to look at my reflection instead of theirs, and a heartbeat later, we are through.
We’re back in the glitter world, in my bedroom.
I sink into the sparkling fuchsia carpet, putting my face into it, and I begin to cry, in great heaving sobs. I cannot stop shaking. I feel Finn turn me over gently, rolling me into his arms as he lies on the carpet next to me. He lets me get it all out, rocking me slightly as his arms tighten around me.
“Did they … hurt you? Are you all right?”
“All right?” I say incredulously. “I could have died! And so could you!”
“You’re safe, Jessa,” he reassures me. “Safe now.”
“How did you get to me?” I ask, then I shudder, hard.
“Mario. I was meeting with Rudy, trying to get his help, when Mario interrupted us.”
I set my head against his chest, and I cannot move. I am indescribably tired. The relief flooding through me is like anesthesia, and I feel like I could close my eyes and be unconscious without any effort at all.
He smooths my hair, pulling my head back a little so he can look me in the eyes. I bring my hand up to self-consciously cover my nose and mouth. I have rivers of snot running down my face.
“I have to blow my nose,” I say.
“I’ve got it.” He pulls away and gets to his feet, walking over to my nightstand and pulling two fluorescent tissues out of the gilded box next to my lamp. He kneels down, handing them to me, and I sit up, doing my best to clean myself off.
I stuff my head tiredly into my hands. “Oh God, Finn.” I look up at him. “This is how you lived?”
His eyes shift down to look at the carpet. “Yes.”
“Is that”—I can barely bring myself to ask it, but I have to know—“is that how I died? Someone like them?”
Finn’s eyes lock with mine, and they are so haunted, I feel like I can’t breathe. “There were six of them, and they had you surrounded. They would have killed us both, but you would have taken a lot longer.” His jaw is tight, and it takes a second for him to finish. “I managed to get my knife in your chest and ended it quick.”
I look into his green, green eyes. “Am I the reason you stayed—over there? Even when you had it in your power to shift and get out of there?”
“Yes. I had no idea you were a Traveler, too, not then. You weren’t aware yet.”
“So you stayed around to protect me.”
“Yes,” he says, twisting a lock of my hair around his finger. “For all the good it did you. I ended up killing you anyway.”
“You saved me from being tortured to death.” My voice is surprisingly strong. I can’t stress enough to him that there’s a difference here.
“I know. But it was still my hand that threw that knife.”
“If we hadn’t been able to get away this time, would you have done it again?”
He swallows hard. “Probably. I don’t know.”