White Space

There was Casey, the brother for whom Eric would give his life—and someone else, already inside his brother, fighting for him, with them. But could Casey and this other win?

We can’t take that chance. Eric got his feet under him, then grabbed Emma’s bloody hand in his. Blood binds, and I don’t think we’ve got a lot of time.

“Emma,” he said, hoarsely, “this whole room is a mirror. It’s a mirror. It can’t get completely free of the Peculiar’s energy sink for long, but you can. With the cynosure, you can go to different Nows, but you have to cross into the Dark Passages to do it, and that’s where this thing—”

“Yes.” Her eyes met his, and he read that she understood, exactly, what they had to do. “Just hang on to him long enough,” she said.

To the death, Emma. I will never let go. There was so much more to tell her, a lifetime of stories they might have written, but there was no more time. I will hold you both to my heart, across times, to the death.

Together, they charged into the circle at a dead run.

THE WHISPER-MAN There Is Another

“YOU BITCH!” THE whisper-man raged. Somehow the girl had called off the birds, not that it should have mattered. Once taken in—once invited—the boy should have been helpless, without the strength to resist. Not like Good Old Frank, who knew a trick or two, or his brat, who was more skilled even than her father.

But something was wrong.

THERE IS ANOTHER. This couldn’t be. Casey was the perfect creation: an outline waiting for color, a sponge, a tabula rasa with even less of a history; and that which Casey possessed—abuse and cruelty, rage and betrayal—was the very kind of horror it liked best. True, the boy had been infected by his brother, who had, in his turn, been tainted by Emma. Casey had morals and scruples. He could love. Yet Casey was fresh and strong. As soon as it finished taking the boy, it would bind enough of Emma to gain the one thing it lacked: access to the cynosure, a skill Lizzie had somehow denied it and Emma hadn’t possessed until it had shown her what to do. Then it would break free, away from this place. Together, it and Casey would play across the Nows.

Slipping inside the boy had been so effortless, little more than a sigh. Just like Lizzie, the boy opened himself, a willing sacrifice for his brother and the Rima-bitch, who should be dead, but she had tricked it, tricked it. Still, time should’ve been on its side.

Suddenly, it felt the red scald of an acid-burn, so stinging and harsh, it let out a howl. What was that? Something in the boy, the boy; the boy was carrying something!

WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU? LEAVE! THE BOY IS MI—

Something axed Casey’s legs, and then it was toppling, crashing to the smooth, glassy black rock. Screeching, the whisper-man kicked and spit as Eric wrapped Casey up tight. Eric was alive; he had survived the birds as had Emma, and it knew what she meant to do. It could not fight them all, not at once. No, it would not go back; it would not be nothing again.

I WON’T BE LOST AGAIN, I WILL NOT! A great gust of fear, sour and strong, swept through it. The whisper-man gasped in terror, and Casey stiffened with it. LET ME GO! YOU CAN HAVE THE BOY IF YOU—

I don’t want him. I want you. The intruder battened down with a will that coiled itself in a muscular rope, tighter than any serpent. I was written for this purpose, this moment. I am your end, and we will grapple.

YOU WILL LOSE.

Probably. I can’t match evil for evil. But I have come to do battle. I can delay you, just long enough.

WE CAN SHARE, the whisper-man thought, wildly. THE BOY IS STRONG, STRONG ENOUGH FOR TWO, FOR MANY. TOGETHER, WE WILL—

Beneath Casey’s body, the mirror-rock quivered as if with a sudden earthquake. The floor of the Peculiar heaved, gave, thinned. The whisper-man felt Emma’s will surge, as strong and sure as Eric’s arms around his brother, as the intruder’s hold on it—and the way began to open.

“NO, WAIT!” it thundered. “LET ME FINISH!”

EMMA What Endures

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