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“Anytime now, Jasmine,” Vayl’s deep voice rang in my ear.

The boys were nodding so hard their chins practically banged their shirt collars, but Tabitha held them back. “How do you know Ruvin?”

I wanted to shake her and scream, “How stupid are you, bitch? The door is fucking open! Let’s go!” But she knew that just outside milled a crowd of would-be cannibals and she hadn’t seen our references yet.

I stepped back. “Cassandra?”

She smiled and let some slack out on Jack’s leash. As soon as he stuck his nose into their hands, the boys fell in love. Much hugging and petting of the grinning malamute while our Seer spoke softly to their mom.

“I know you must be terrified. But we are your best chance at escaping this predicament unscathed. Let us help you free your sons before anything more traumatic happens to them. Please?” Tabitha glanced at Laal and Pajo. I expected a rush of warmth to ease the harsh lines of her face.

Instead they tightened, as if she was doing unpleasant math problems in her head. “All right. Boys?” She snapped her fingers and they immediately left Jack to run to her side. Wow. No whining or anything?

Either she runs a really well-disciplined household or—no. I’m not going to think the worst of anyone for once. That’s something Brude would do. I turned to lead them out.

I murmured, “We’re on our way,” to Vayl. Then I looked back over my shoulder and whispered, “Two things. Be quieter than you’ve ever been in your life.” Special smile for the boys. “Übersneaky, got it?” They nodded solemnly. “And stay as close as you can to the big man we’re meeting at the gate. His name is Jeremy, and he can make it so the crowd doesn’t see us. But we’ve arranged a little distraction as well. Just ignore it when it happens and follow Jeremy and me out. Got it?” Ruvin’s family nodded again. I hoped that meant they understood. Hard to say how much was sinking in.

You never knew with somebody who’d spent time as a prisoner and was now escaping. Sometimes the moment itself overwhelmed everything else, even the ability to process the instructions they needed to make it successful. I looked over them to Cassandra, gave her a keep an eye on them look.

We crept down the path toward the gate. “Astral,” I whispered. “Go back to the tunnel exit. Don’t get caught.”

We rejoined Vayl at the gate door. He’d hidden the guard’s body. My guess would’ve been inside the trash can. Good call. Laal and Pajo didn’t need to see us handling corpses if we could help it.

Vayl took stock. Tender look for me. Approval toward Cassandra and Jack. Curiosity in Tabitha’s direction. And for the boys, a moment of intensity, like the silence before a shout.

He pulled me aside. Spoke directly into my ear. “We have to get these boys out safely.”

“Of course.”

“Understand me. Whatever else happens, here, or with the mission, we cannot let these boys die.” I stared into his eyes, which had turned the purple of a boxer’s ribs after a bad beating. And I knew something about Laal and Pajo had reminded him sharply of his own murdered sons. Or maybe it was just that he’d finally found a chance to prevent another father from feeling the anguish he’d endured now for over two hundred and fifty years. Didn’t matter to me.

I said, “The boys live no matter what. Of course. There was never another option.” He put both hands to my shoulders like he meant to hug me; then he looked over my head, remembered our circumstances, and dropped his arms. Turning toward the crowd so that he blocked most of us at the gate with both his bulk and power, he murmured, “Now, Bergman.” Motioning us forward, he began to move at a slow but even pace back the way we’d come.

Which was when Bergman popped out from behind the trees and climbed up the back of the bandstand.

He shoved his way to the front of the stage, a camera in each hand, grinning like a lunatic and blowing an enormous bubble from a spare piece of gum he must’ve borrowed from Cole.

The band faded out. Its inattentive audience quickly swung its focus away from itself and to the stage as this new phenomenon began to click off picture after picture. Finally Bergman grabbed a microphone.

“Okay, that was excellent. Now, my guy in Hollywood tells me if this movie’s going to work we’re gonna need all of you to really get into your parts. Okay? And… smile!” CHAPTERFOURTEEN

Iwas genuinely shocked when I froze. Paralysis is not what I do. I think. On my feet. As they move.

Generally at my target. Or away from danger. Or, in this case, toward the exit while I figured out how to rescue my idiot consultant before he got himself killed and Pete demoted me to, oh, I don’t know…

resident flyswatter?

But I was stuck. This was my first clue that Brude had commandeered my limbs. Then he turned me toward the source of what he thought would soon be lurid entertainment. In other words, a bloodbath.

Starring my best friend, who was clicking off shots of the crowd and talking fast about some fantasy film starring Angelina Jolie and Warwick Davies. Dumbass.

Granny May! I yelled, an SOS to my own psyche. I saw her head shoot up from the green beans she’d been snapping into a bowl on her lap. She still sat on the front porch. But she looked less fearful. And I noticed she’d brought some sort of club outside with her. I focused on the item that lay on the floor beside her rocking chair. Nearly giggled out loud when I recognized the leg of an old iron lamp Gramps Lew had kept promising to fix but never seemed to get to. She’d taken to carrying it with her from room to room as a reminder, which had evolved into a joke. And once he’d died, it had become a memento.

Now, maybe, it would take another role.

I see him, she whispered, leaning down to get a good grip on the club. Trust me, Jazzy, he won’t get any closer. You get on with your job, now.

Hoping my mind could war on itself without causing irreparable damage, I tried to take a step. Yes! A couple more. Go, Granny May! I hustled to get back into formation, which was a lot like before, only now Vayl and I had three extra civilians lining up between us.

We’d made it a quarter of the way around the back edge of the crowd. Nobody had a clue their prisoners were escaping. All eyes had glued themselves to the idiot human on the platform, who seemed to be delivering a message of fame and good fortune that even the most devout among them found hard to ignore.

“I’m gonna kill him,” I whispered. “If they don’t get to him first, that is.” Remembering the party line I said, “Do you hear that, Bergman? You were supposed to pull some amazing gadget out of your bag and fill the place with stink bombs or locusts or something. Not risk your freaking neck on a dumb stunt that Cole might pull. Just let me get these kids safe and then I’ll—”

“I know what I’m doing here!” Bergman announced to the crowd, though I knew he’d aimed his statement at me. “You might question my methods a little bit, but this is how blockbusters get made. I’m telling you, Hugh Jackman started out the same way. Now, could we have all the gentlemen just line up on either side of the stairs here?”

The gnomish men traded puzzled looks. A couple of them rose. And why wouldn’t they? Bergman sounded so confident.

“That’s right,” he said. “Form a kind of hallway for the shaman to walk through when he comes onstage.