“Lady?”
“Make it stop,” she whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling tears leak beneath the lids. Mace fumbled for her in the dark and Kelsea grabbed his hand, clung like a drowning man. “I don’t want to see.”
She couldn’t hold herself up; it felt as though her nervous system had collapsed. All muscle control had gone from her legs. Mace grabbed her, lowering her softly to the ground, but the pain didn’t stop. Every cell seemed to be on fire, and Kelsea screamed in the darkness, writhing on the rough stone.
“Take them off, Lady!”
Kelsea felt him tugging at the chains around her neck, and she slapped his hand away. But she didn’t have the strength to fight him off. None of her muscles were working correctly, and the pain controlled everything. She tried to roll away, but could only wriggle helplessly on the floor.
“Quit, dammit!” Mace dug a hand beneath her neck and lifted her head from the floor. Strands of hair ripped from her scalp.
A warning, the dark part of her mind whispered. That’s all he needs.
She concentrated on the hand that held the sapphires, first pressing, then digging. Mace grunted in pain, but did not let go, so Kelsea clawed at him now, opening up scratches.
“I know how valuable your hands are, Lazarus. Don’t make me take them from you.”
Mace hesitated, and she pressed even harder, digging inward toward the muscle until he swore and scrambled away.
Kelsea pulled herself into a sitting position, then rested her head on her knees. The pain had begun again, in her legs this time, and she realized now that she had no choice. Lily’s time was an open doorway, and there was no going halfway through.
“Lazarus,” she croaked into the dark.
“Lady?”
“I’m going back. I can’t stop it.” She stretched out on the floor, feeling the blessed coolness of stone against her face. “Don’t try to take them off while I’m gone, either. I’m not responsible for what might happen.”
“Keep telling yourself so, Lady.”
She wanted to snap at him, but now Lily was upon her, Lily’s mind slipping inside her own the way a hand would slip inside a perfectly fitted glove. The pain had faded again; Lily had taken refuge in her own imagination, her vision of the better world, fields and a river seen from atop a hill. Kelsea recognized the view: the Almont, as it looked from the hills of New London, and the Caddell stretching into the distance. But there was no city yet in Lily’s dreams, only the wide-open land running toward the horizon … a clean slate. Kelsea would have given anything for that land, that opportunity, but it was too late.
“Had enough yet?”
Kelsea barked laughter, a helpless doglike sound. She looked up and saw the grinning, sharklike face of the accountant, and the laughter died in her throat.
I SAID, HAVE you had enough?”
Lily blinked as sweat ran into her eyes, stinging and blinding. She had found that once she answered an innocuous question, it became that much easier to answer a question that mattered. Now she held silent.
“Ah, Lily.” The accountant shook his head sadly. “Such a waste of a pretty woman.”
Bile collected in Lily’s throat, but she swallowed it down, knowing that if she got sick, it would make everything hurt more. She blinked the sweat from her eyes and shot a glance at the assistant who controlled the box, a tall, bald man with dead, watery eyes that seemed to focus on nothing. The assistant had come and gone many times, bringing pieces of equipment, or notes which the accountant would read quickly, his eyes advancing and then returning in a precise typewriter fashion before handing the note back. Then the assistant would leave again. But now he appeared to be here for good, his finger on the console that made agony travel all over Lily’s body. Tiny wireless electrodes seemed to be strapped everywhere; they hadn’t put one between her legs yet, but Lily felt certain that they would get there in time.
She had no idea how long she had been in this room. There was no time, only the lulls that the accountant gave her, she felt sure, to contemplate what he might do next. She could have asked him for the date, but even that seemed like it might alert him that something was going on, that time mattered somehow. She was trying to hold on until the first of September, but in truth, it could already have been the fifth or the sixth for all Lily knew. Her muscles throbbed, her hand throbbed. They had stitched the wound in her scalp, but no one had tended to her hand, and the burning hole in her palm had blackened and then crisped over with pus, like a crust on a filthy pie. The assistant’s comings and goings were the only way to mark the passage of time. Sometimes the accountant would leave the room as well, shutting off the lights. Another purposeful maneuver, Lily was sure, leaving her alone in the dark.
And yet she was not alone. With every hour that went by, Lily became more aware of the other woman. She came and went, sometimes merely flickering on the edge of Lily’s consciousness and sometimes right there. The feeling was nothing Lily could explain to anyone, even herself, but nevertheless the woman was there, just beyond a thin veil, feeling Lily’s pain, her fright, her exhaustion. And this woman was strong; Lily could sense that strength, like a great lamp shining in the darkness. She was strong the way William Tear was strong, and that strength buoyed Lily up, kept her from opening her mouth and screaming out the answers the accountant wanted to hear. As the hours went on, Lily became more and more certain of something else: this woman knew about the better world. She had seen it, understood it, longed for it with all her heart.
Who are you? Lily wanted to ask. But then the assistant pressed the button again and it was all she could do to cling to the other woman, like a child to its mother’s knees, begging for solace. When the electricity was on, Lily forgot all about the better world. There was only pain, white-hot agony that flared beneath her skin, wiping everything else away … except the woman. Lily tried to think of Maddy, Dorian, Jonathan, Tear, but she could feel herself wearing down. Several times, the pain had ceased just when she was at the point of begging them to stop. She thought of her old life, when she used to be afraid of bee stings, and the thought made her giggle, a dark and senseless giggle that died on its way to the walls of the room, this room that was the only thing left.
“Keep on laughing, Lily. You can end this at any time.”
The accountant’s voice betrayed irritation. He was growing tired, Lily thought, and this gave birth to new hope: at some point, wouldn’t he have to go away and sleep? They could give her to someone else, of course, another interrogator, but the accountant didn’t strike her as the sort who would let go. He was a hunter, waiting patiently for the moment when she would break, and he wouldn’t want the satisfaction of that moment to go to anyone else, not when he had done so much to loosen the lid.
The pain stopped, and Lily’s entire body sagged with relief. Earlier, she had been trying to think of positive things to cling to, and at this odd moment, one occurred to her: she didn’t have children. If she had, these people would certainly have made use of them by now. She wondered whether Mom was in some kind of custody, whether they had come to the nice suburban neighborhood in Media and hauled Mom away.
“Come on now, Lily. You know you’ll give it up sooner or later. Why prolong this? Wouldn’t you like some food? Wouldn’t you like me to let you sleep?”
Lily said nothing, noting with relief that the assistant was standing up and leaving the console. The accountant was a busy man; his assistant was constantly fetching him messages, and Lily thought he must have many other projects. But God help her, she had his full attention now. Behind the glasses, those round, birdlike eyes pinned her where she sat.