Chaz:

The hospital lights were turned down low and everyone spoke in hushed tones, as if that would make everything easier, like it could somehow soften the blow to the gut that was on its way.

He was dying. My brother was dying and I had to talk to him. Even if he didn’t answer me. I asked Mom to give us a few minutes alone. She floated into the hallway, took holo Dad on some sort of glowing leash. I closed my eyes when he drifted past. Still can’t bear to get too close to that thing.

We were alone now. Russ and I. He was breathing, ragged and rough. The doctor said he’d had some sort of allergic reaction to the dart. It wasn’t a strong poison, but for some reason, maybe because of his weakened state from the spikes…there was no definitive answer for what was happening to him, but he probably wouldn’t make it through the night.

He would never see his daughter again. Even if we could find Isabelle, right now, he wouldn’t see her.

“Russ, it’s Chaz.”

His body lay still, arms tucked close to his sides. His eyes blinked open as he struggled against the darkness that surrounded him. “Isabelle,” he whispered. Then a long minute later, “My baby girl—”

I held his hand. He was looking at me now, one of those brief coherent moments before the curtain comes crashing down and the lights go out. I could barely hear his words, so I moved closer, caught him in mid-sentence.

“—that monster took her,” he murmured, “I couldn’t move, I couldn’t stop him—”

“Who was it, Russ? Tell me who took Isabelle—”

“—didn’t you smell him that night?” He struggled to grab my shirt and pull me closer. “Didn’t you smell him when everybody was chantin’ and throwin’ rocks? I can smell him, all the time—”

Rocks. Chanting. A stench wrapped around my intestines, soaked through my lungs. I could taste it in the back of my throat, heavy and sweet, like swallowing a mouthful of rotting honeysuckle. The night Dad was murdered. The nightmares. Somebody laughing in the darkness.

“Russ, are you saying that the guy who took Isabelle was there when Dad died?”

“—he’s gonna put her on the flyin’ horses—”

“Who? Tell me his name—”

He stared at me, as if he saw some dark terror in the distance, something approaching faster than he expected. He took one last jealous breath, then exhaled, long and slow. He fell still, all the answers I needed still locked inside.

There was a moment when all the lights in the room seemed to dim, when the darkness came on leather wings. It sat beside me, nameless and faceless, a beast all claws and teeth. I recognized the presence. Remembered a time when we met before.

Right now, more than anything I needed closure. And accountability.

“I’ll get her back, Russ,” I said, my words catching in my throat. I had to pause, had to ignore the gen-spike stench and the black slithering shadows. “No matter what it takes, I promise, I’ll get Isabelle back.”