From the window, Kyla heard a brightTWANGof metal as one of the chevroned bars was pulled away. Another. The glass shattered. Talons clawed at the mattress on the other side. More wood splintered from the back door.
Ryan had Penelope on the ground, crouched over her like a wolf prepared to take a bullet for its cub. Hunter was wheezing, his hand on his chest. Fernanda seemed just as confused as Sarah, but she’d grabbed the heavy brass lamp from the nightstand—a plausible weapon—although judging by the way it trembled in her hands, Kyla wondered how much good it would do them. Kyla had eight rounds left in Lance’s Glock, plus another ten in the other gun they’d taken from the Fort Stockton safe house this afternoon. Between those firearms and the ones Ethan and Hunter carried, would it be enough ammunition to take down everything waiting for them outside?
Ha.
Kyla found Ethan’s eyes in the gloom. Whatever plan the boy had devised for them, it clearly hadn’t involved this.
What do we do?
I have… no idea.
A third bar came away from the window. A fourth. The mattress shuddered and quaked. It wouldn’t hold much longer. Behind her, Kyla heard a crack and felt a rush of wind: a chunk of the back door, gone. The creature out there was getting through. Was nearly here.
Kyla realized she was about to lose control of her bowels. All of their hard work, all of their lucky breaks, all that Kyla had done to atone for the months she’d spent ignoring the evils of Fort Stockton—it was all going to end here, now, as she was torn to pieces by these fucking creatures of the night. With the ceremony ended, that would be the end of everything, wouldn’t it? She was going to die for good this time.
Which is when a familiar voice whispered, just behind her ear.
“Kyla,” a man said.
“Kyla, come here.”
She knew that voice. It sounded almost like her father’s.
Kyla turned toward the hall, watching as another chunk of the back door broke free and a yellow eye stared through. Stared at her. She stumbled when the earth shook, when the mountain let out another moan.
“This way. Hurry.”
Kyla followed the voice, skirted the end of the long dresser, made her way to the bathroom.
The only illumination in the room was the faint starlight that managed to seep through the glass block in the shower’s wall. It was just enough for Kyla to make out the shape of a man standing in the mirror. Even in the weak light, Kyla knew that she had seen this same man before, standing in the mirror of her own bathroom two nights ago.
Even in silhouette, Kyla would recognize him anywhere. He looked so much like her father.
A cool tingle spread down the back of her neck. The man wasin the mirror in front of her, but Kyla heard his voice coming from behind her, over her shoulder, right next to her ear.
“I can’t help you much longer,” her grandfather said. “Don’t you dare waste this.”
The man brought a dim finger to the mirror between them. He touched the glass from the other side. Almost before it happened, Kyla knew what he was doing.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Get moving,” he said. So like her father.
The moment the man touched the mirror, the glass shattered in a great burst of silver light. On the other side, Kyla saw the dead city: the pale spires, the grooved stone walls.
Unlike the first night she had seen the city through her mirror, this time the vision didn’t disappear. The frame of the mirror, like the frame of a window, let out onto a familiar silver street.
“Over here!” Kyla shouted. “Hurry!”
Ethan was the first to arrive, followed a moment later by Hunter. The man gave the shattered mirror a single glance, seeming thoroughly unfazed by the sight of the city beyond.
“What are you waiting for?” he said. “Get the fuck out of here.”
From the front door, there was a
Knock
Knock
