“I don’t plan to run out and pretend I was never here. Eric and Jo will both back up my story that all four of us came to the building but that only Finn went inside to see you; he wanted privacy. Whenever Finn goes anywhere alone, he regularly checks in with Eric telepathically, assuring him that he’s fine. But this time, Finn didn’t contact him or respond to Eric’s telepathic calls. So, concerned, Eric went inside. He heard you two arguing—Finn was furious with you for the accusation you made against my Reena, you blamed him for your mother almost dying, you hated that he was refusing to hand over Asa, maybe you even blamed him for your mother’s mental state … Oh, yes, I like that. And then maybe he told you that you were a mistake; that you should never have been born; that Pamela was better off dead.
“Eric, so focused on trying to calm you both down, didn’t realize he’d left the door ajar … until someone came in and attacked. There was a struggle. Eric telepathed me, and I came rushing up here with Jo only to find you and Finn dead. I’ll have to injure Eric a little to make it look real, of course, but that can be done.” She patted the sentinel’s cheek gently. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
“You won’t pull it off,” clipped Devon.
“We’ll pull it off, I assure you.” Leticia sighed. “Sadly, I don’t have time to torture you, and it would certainly mess up my story if you had all sorts of injuries. However, that’s not to say I can’t still make you both suffer before I kill you. I’ve suffered plenty. So why shouldn’t you?” She glanced at Jo and clicked her fingers. “Give it to me.”
Devon would have backed up if she could have fucking moved.
“Here,” said Jo, putting a tiny bottle into Leticia’s hand.
The bitch opened the bottle and sprinkled the contents onto her hand. Dust. It was just dust. Leticia blew it at Devon and—
Six-year-old Devon plastered her small sweaty hands on the window, gasping for air. She’s not coming, she thought. No one was gonna come. No one was gonna get them out of the car. No one was gonna help them.
She dropped her forehead to the glass, breathing hard and fast. Her hands hurt so bad from punching the window, and her knuckles were all swollen and bloody … like Drew’s were when he had a fight with a boy on their street. Drew hadn’t minded how sore they were. He’d thought his knuckles looked “badass.”
Devon didn’t want badass knuckles. She wanted to go home. Wanted to get out of the baking hot car and change into clothes that weren’t all patchy with sweat.
Her chest burned each time she breathed in the thick hot air. It was like breathing air right out of a hairdryer or something.
She stared at the building on the far side of the parking lot, wishing the front door would open and Pamela would walk out. Why wasn’t she coming? Devon hadn’t actually seen her go inside, but there was nowhere else out here for her to go.
Had Pamela forgotten about them? She forgot about things sometimes. A lot of times. But then she’d remember, and things would be okay. For a little while.
Her mother would remember to come back outside soon, right? She would. She had to.
Devon licked her chapped lips, wincing at the sting. She needed water. Her throat was so dry, and it hurt from screaming. She’d stopped, because it hadn’t helped. No one had heard her. No one had heard the baby crying.
He wasn’t crying anymore. Wasn’t fussing or kicking. Wasn’t doing anything.
He’s asleep, she told herself, refusing to look at him. Babies slept all the time; that was all he was doing. She didn’t need to check on him. He was fine. Just sleeping.
But she knew it wasn’t true. She couldn’t hear his little heart beating anymore. Couldn’t hear him breathing.
A sob wracked her body and she punched at the window again. “Help!”
Devon gasped like she’d just come out of the ocean for air, tears pooling in her eyes while her heart bled. It occurred to her that she probably shouldn’t have been able to fight her way out of the memory. She’d have worried that more dust would have been blown her way, but no one was paying any attention to her. No, they were focused on Finn while Leticia berated and cursed him.
Devon felt the pull of magick on her psyche once more, knew the dust still had some hold on her. Fuck, no. No, no, no, no, no, she couldn’t go back there again. Couldn’t go—
Devon stopped slapping the window and collapsed against the car door with a weak cry. She’d gotten excited when she saw the guy on the bike. Thought he’d see her, thought he’d help. But no matter how hard she’d hit the glass or how loud she’d screamed, he hadn’t noticed her. And now he’d gone inside the building where Pamela had to be.
Maybe he had heard Devon, she thought, hope kindling in her chest. Maybe he’d ask the people inside the place who the car belonged to and then Pamela would remember.
Devon swallowed, and there was a weird clicking sound. She rubbed at her throat. It felt all scratchy on the inside, and her tongue felt swollen.
She tried reaching out with her mind to touch her mother’s, but again it didn’t work. Devon could only talk to people telepathically if they weren’t too far away.
Tears stung her eyes, and she wiped them away with her clammy fingers. She was tired. Felt all dizzy and heavy. Wanted to just sit down and close her eyes. But that would mean turning away from the window. It would mean turning … and seeing … seeing him.
He hadn’t started crying again. Hadn’t sniffled or moved.
He’s. Just. Sleeping.
Devon weakly banged her head on the window, wishing somebody would come, wishing the baby boy would move or whimper or something. But none of those things happened, just as she’d known they wouldn’t.
The breath gusted out of Devon’s lungs as she once more snapped back to the present, her heart pounding, her cheeks wet with tears. The others were still focused on Finn, who was screaming while Jo chanted something at him. Devon tried moving, was able to flex her fingers, wriggle her toes, and squirm slightly, but that was as good as it got. Still, she could sense that the magick was wearing off fast.
Darkness yanked on her psyche again, and panic seized her tight. No, she could not go back there again. Just couldn’t. She fought the magick, fought to stay with the present, but the memories sucked her under and—
Devon’s eyelids fluttered open, and she squeezed them shut as the sunlight stabbed at her eyes. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.
She realized she was still leaning against the car door but, too tired to move, she decided to just lean on it a little longer. She didn’t really want to move her head anyway. It felt light but it ached at the same time. Like someone was stabbing her in the head with something real sharp. Her cheeks were burning so bad it was like they were on fire.
She felt her eyes drift shut but didn’t fight it. Didn’t bother trying to punch the window or shout for help, because … No one is coming.
Maybe something had happened to Pamela. Or maybe she’d come outside to check on them, found Devon asleep, and figured she’d be okay a little longer. The thought made Devon’s heart slam against her ribs, and her eyes snapped open. She hadn’t missed her chance to get help, had she?
Oh God, maybe she had. She should have stayed awake.