Emmett’s corpse looked just the way I expected it to look. So did the room around me. So did Annalise.
I saw a flannel shirt hanging on a coatrack and used it to wipe down Cabot’s gun. I tossed the gun onto the floor. It thunked as it landed. I wasn’t worried about Cabot, though.
Everyone in town had seen me. There was no way I was going to avoid prison this time. I was a cop killer. He was a corrupt cop and a killer himself, but that wouldn’t matter once the manhunt began.
But what choice did I have? I couldn’t let him walk free. What if he had another copy of the spell somewhere? What if he went looking for more magic? He would just move somewhere else and start killing again.
With some difficulty, Annalise pulled a red ribbon off her vest and dropped it onto a stuffed chair. It burst into flame. She kicked over a desk, scattering a stack of papers onto the flames. The fire was already licking at the painted walls. Soon the station would be lit by orange firelight, just like the Dubois home.
I returned Annalise’s debit card. I didn’t want anything of hers, especially not her money.
“Stop moping,” she said. “You did something useful here, even if the work makes you feel dirty.”
“Let’s just go.”
I followed her toward the door. A small, framed photo hung on the wall, and while I didn’t want to look at it, I couldn’t turn away. It showed Emmett with his arm around Charles the Third. The youngest Hammer was about thirteen and tall for his age, but he was carrying an extra hundred pounds of flab. An older man with Charles’s narrow face and unruly black hair flipped burgers on a gleaming barbecue. That must have been Charles the Second, Charles Junior.
While the fire grew behind me, I leaned close to the picture. The elder Hammer was the only one not smiling—his face was worn and sagging, his eyes rimmed with dark circles. He was a man with regrets. In the background, I could see the huge windows of an expensive modern house and a smooth, curved gray stone wall like the base of a castle.
The firelight cast flickering shadows over the photo. The flames had reached the ceiling. Annalise stood by the front door, waiting for me silently. Time to go.
We walked outside. The storm clouds had blown away, and I could see blue sky and sunshine for the first time in days.
A crowd of people stood across the street. The van was parked around the corner. We walked toward them.
“Next time, I’ll park closer.”
“Good idea. You look like a mess.”
I pulled at my shirt. It was torn, sopping wet, and it stank of gunpowder and antifreeze. “I needed more than four changes of clothes, I think.”
“I didn’t think you’d live through that many. Are you going to vomit?”
“Oh, yes,” I said to her. “But not right away, I think.”
As we neared the crowd, the cook approached me nervously. I must have been quite a sight. “What’s happening?” he asked. “What’s going on in this town?”
“The Dubois brothers killed Reverend Wilson.”
There were gasps of astonishment from the crowd.
“What?” the cook said. “You can’t be serious.”
“Go away,” I told him. We pushed through the crowd and headed up the block. No one tried to stop us. “Charles Hammer is next, right, boss?”
“He would be, if I knew where to find him. That’s all I’ve been doing is looking for him. He hasn’t been home or at his office since we were there last, and Karoly’s notes don’t tell me anything.”
“Are your hands any better?”
“No,” she said. “They’re worse. I expect I won’t be able to use them at all by tomorrow. They feel like they’re burning, and I can barely bend my fingers.”
We reached the van. I opened the door for her and helped her in, not bothering with the seat belt. I climbed in behind the wheel and started the engine. “We could stop off at the butcher again—”
“Don’t bother,” she said. “The last time it barely helped at all, and I don’t want to spend all day on it. It’s a waste of time.”
“And your stomach?”
“I’m starving.” She didn’t look at me. She just stared ahead. “I feel a little weak and disoriented, to tell the truth. I’m going to have to rely on you a little more than I would normally. Can I do that?”
“Yes,” I said. “I just killed a cop in cold blood for you. If that doesn’t prove I’m on your side …”
Right then I felt like vomiting. Thankfully, I hadn’t eaten in hours.
I pulled out of the parking space. I didn’t have anywhere to go, but I didn’t want to be near the scene of the fight any longer. I didn’t know where I was going, so I just drove.
Hammer Bay was pretty in the sunlight. I thought of all the people who were not going to see this sunshine, from the woman in the hospital morgue to the reverend to Sugar Dubois, and I felt a twist of cold anger. I tried to aim it at Charles Hammer, or his grandfather, or Eli Warren, who had brought the spells to this town in the first place, but in truth, I was angry at everything, including myself. The world seemed to be full of killers and those who stood by and did nothing about them. I suddenly wished I was one of those who stood by.
“If I don’t survive,” she said, “I don’t want you to go after Charles Hammer by yourself.”
“Why not?” I sounded a little indignant, but she ignored it.
“Because he’s too big for you, and I don’t want him getting a close look at the spells you’re carrying. If things go wrong, head out of town. One of the peers will track you down and debrief you.”
“I’ll be in jail by then, right? Will the society get me out again?”
She shrugged. She was dying, and she didn’t much care whether I went to jail or not. I’d have probably felt the same way.
I drove toward Cynthia’s house, glad that it was my left calf that was throbbing, not the one I drove with. Maybe we could get Charles’s location out of her. Something was nagging at me. There was something I should have remembered but couldn’t quite recall.
“You don’t think he left Hammer Bay, do you?”
“I hope not,” Annalise said. “I don’t think so. He started this whole thing for his company and his town. I don’t think he’d cut and run.”
I nodded. Cynthia had refused to leave, too. “What about a boat or something? He’s rich enough to have one.”
“He does. Karoly’s notes told me which one. I sank it last night. He wasn’t there.”
Then I remembered. “Cabot said that Charles has been spending all his time hiding in the tower.”
“There’s a high, round room at their house.”
“That’s what I thought, too, but no dice. That’s his sister’s bedroom.”
She didn’t react to that. “Did the sister tell you where he is?”
“She wouldn’t. Not her own brother.” This was the point where I could have told Annalise about Cynthia’s iron gate, but we had more important things to discuss. “I want to ask her one more time.”
Annalise didn’t say anything after that. I wondered what she would do to force an answer out of Cynthia. Had I saved Cynthia’s life so my boss could kill her?
Then it hit me—the gray stone wall in Emmett’s photo, Cabot’s remark that Charles had been hiding in the tower …
I switched off the turn signal and kept going south.
We passed out of the business district. I looked toward the ocean and saw the sunlight sparkle on the water. It was a beautiful sight.
And there, naked in the sunlight, was the light house. Except that with no mist or fog around it, it didn’t look like a light house at all.
I pulled over and shut off the engine. “Where’s that bad map?”
We searched the glove compartment and the spaces under the seats before I remembered that I had looked at the map in Ethan’s minivan. I found it in the inside pocket of my jacket, folded up into a tiny square. I unfolded it. The light house was marked with a number four. I turned the map over and found the entry for number four.
“What’s all this about?” Annalise asked.
“A light house that isn’t a light house,” I said. “Here it is: ‘In 1949, Charles Hammer the First bought a castle in Scotland and had it shipped to Hammer Bay, where it was rebuilt stone by stone. Sixteen years later, an earthquake toppled all but the southernmost tower, which still stands today.’”
I stared at the tower. It didn’t have the battlements that I saw in old movies. It was slightly crooked, but it was a tower. This was the “Scottish thing” Bill had mentioned.
“That’s where he is.”
Annalise nodded. “Let’s finish this job.”
“Boss,” I said. I wasn’t sure how to say what I wanted to say next, so I just blurted it out. “Do you think there’s a way to turn those worms back into kids? Do you think they can be cured?”
She did not like that question. “Anything is possible, Ray.”
I thought that, if I’d asked her if we could fly a candy-cane rocket to Jupiter, she would have given me the exact same answer in the exact same tone. “Boss, I had to ask.”
“I know you did.” That was all she had to say.
I drove to the waterfront and parked behind a seafood restaurant. The southward road turned east, away from the cliff and the ocean, leaving an unpaved driveway to go the last two blocks toward the edge of town. We walked toward it, seeing little more than a tumble of black volcanic rocks ahead. And the tower.
It stood alone, well away from the rest of town and a dozen yards from the edge of the cliff. At the base, I could make out a low, modern house, with huge windows along each wall. And there was a broad asphalt platform where a person could turn a car around. I couldn’t see a driveway connecting it to the town, and I couldn’t see the ruins of the rest of the castle.
“There,” Annalise said. She nodded toward a pair of Dumpsters a few doors down. The driveway to the tower was hidden behind them.
We walked quickly back to the van. I pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward that driveway. We passed three identical burgundy Crown Victorias, but I chalked them up to someone’s desire to keep up with the Joneses.
The gravel road was barred by a long gate. I stopped, climbed out, and cut off the lock with my ghost knife. The gate swung wide open. I drove down the sloping driveway and parked the van at the end. No one was going to be driving out of here unless they tipped the van onto the rocks, which, frankly, was not all that unlikely.
I climbed out and opened Annalise’s door. We walked toward the house. It was much larger up close than it had seemed from the parking lot. The windows were all two stories tall. And none of the shades were drawn.
Something was wrong.
I slipped over to the garage and peeked into the window. Inside was the same elegant black S-class Mercedes I’d seen parked outside the toy factory door. It was a couple of years old. There were no other cars in sight.
“This isn’t right,” I said to Annalise.
She was too short to look in the window and didn’t bother to try. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“There’s a Mercedes in there. Charles Hammer drives a Prius.”
“He’s rich.” She moved toward the front door.
Not right. Not right. Not right. I took the ghost knife from my pocket and threw it, cutting the phone line.
I was about to cut through the locks on the front door when Annalise clumsily turned the knob and pushed. The door swung open. It was unlocked.
We entered. Golden sunlight filled the room. I could see storm clouds down at the edge of the horizon, but the sunlit waters were beautiful.
I shut the door and noticed something hanging beside the hinges. It was a long, double-edged knife. The blade appeared to be made of silver. I suspected it was there on the off chance that the Dubois brothers turned on their masters. I took it off the hook and held it in my off hand.
I followed Annalise toward the far end of the room. There was a flat-screen TV hung on the wall and a very low couch facing it. The coffee table was littered with a dozen empty cans of beef stew, bread crumbs, and torn-open baguette wrappers. It looked as though someone had holed up here, but then why were the shades wide open?
“Through here,” Annalise said. She kicked open a door and entered another long room. I followed her.
This room had plush carpeting. All the shades were drawn, and the air was thick. At the far end, about twenty feet away, was a long wooden desk. Heavy drapes hung just behind it.
The high leather chair behind the desk was turned away from us. It moved slightly. I saw the sleeve of a dark suit jacket on the armrest.
“Charles Hammer the Third,” Annalise said, with the tone of a judge passing sentence. She pulled a ribbon from her vest. “You—”
“That’s not Charles Hammer,” I said. “That’s Able Katz.”
Able Katz swung the chair around. He looked quite smug.
The drapes fluttered, and four men stepped out. They were built like boxers, wore the brown uniforms of a private security force, and held Uzis in their hands.
A door to the side opened, and six more guards rushed into the room. They fanned out along the wall to our left.
“There are two more waiting for you by the front door,” Able said. “So don’t try to run that way.”
I noticed a webcam on the desk, beside the computer. Charlie Three was watching us, but from where? I dropped the silver knife into my pocket.
“Oh, no,” Able said. “Not your pocket, young man. That’s not good enough. You’ll have to toss that weapon away from you, onto the floor. In fact, please dispose of all your weapons that way.” He smirked at us.
Annalise reached up and tugged a fistful of ribbons off her vest.
“Wait,” I whispered to her. “They’re just guys doing a job.”
“Their job is to let a child killer go free.”
“That’s nonsense!” Able barked. “Charles has done nothing of the sort. You two are the ones who have been tearing this town apart.”
I kept my focus on Annalise. “Emmett was a killer, but these guys were hired to protect someone. They aren’t evil.”
She turned to me. “Of course they’re not evil,” she said. “I’m the one who’s evil.”
The phone on the desk rang.
Everyone seemed startled except for Able. He answered it. “Yes, Charles?” He listened. “I will.” He pressed the button on the handset and turned the phone to us.
“Can you hear me?”
It was Charles Hammer, talking over the speaker-phone.
“Yes,” I said. Annalise looked impatient, but I wanted to hear him out.
“Let me explain myself,” the voice said, “and I hope we can avoid any unpleasantness. I really, really would like to avoid violence, if that’s possible. More than anything.”
I watched the guards. Hammer could have been delaying us until the state police arrived, or even more guards, but I doubted it. He had ten armed men in the room with us, and two more, if Able was to be believed, by the exit. “I’m listening.”
“Able,” the voice said. “Do you trust me? Some of what we’re going to say will sound bad, and these people may make accusations against me that I don’t deserve. I want you to understand—”
“There’s no need for that, Charles,” Able said. “I trust you.”
“Great.” Charles took a deep breath as though he was about to cliff dive for the first time. “First I want to explain—”
“Want want want,” I snapped. “Don’t tell me what you want. What about the kids you killed?”
“I never killed any kids! The missing children are still alive, and I can get them back. I’ve been searching for a way to get them back.”
“Looking through your book, huh? The one Eli Warren sold to your great-grandfather?”
“How did you—It doesn’t matter. Yes, I’m looking for a way to get them back. It’s the number-one priority for me. The children are the next generation of Hammer Bay.”
I laughed at him. “You’re not running for office, are you?”
“Sneer if you want,” the voice said, “but everything I’ve done is to help the people of this town. I’ve worked hard to bring jobs and dignity back to Hammer Bay.”
“And you had help,” Annalise said.
“Yes.” There was a pause. “I did have help. A consultant, of a sort. A fortune-teller.”
“The same one your father had, and your grandfather.”
“My great-grandfather, too. ‘Use it sparingly,’ my father told me, but there were so many things I didn’t know. And the people …”
He kept talking. He sounded very much like the weary activist, so burdened with the tasks ahead of him and so impressed with his own motives and ideals.
But something had struck me. Fortune-teller, he’d said.
What if he was not just looking into the future? What if the magic he was using was actually controlling the future?
It made sense if he was using magic that let him step outside of time in some way. Annalise’s burned hands kept coming back, no matter what she did to treat them. The Dubois brothers could heal anything, even brutal, mangling death. Maybe they were simply backing up in time, to a point before they were injured. Maybe that’s why the new sigil on Sugar Dubois couldn’t heal his injuries the way his brothers had been healed. It could not restore him to a time before it was in place.
As for the Hammer family, I had assumed that the seizures they suffered during hard times, and the smart moves they had made to turn things around, had come from visions of the future. But what if they were more than visions? What if he was making good things happen?
How else to explain a successful line of toys about Marie Antoinette, for God’s sake?
I tried to picture the power of a spell that could control whole populations of people. I couldn’t. How could he be so strong that he forced people to love his products? How could he force people to forget the people they loved most?
Then it dawned on me. He wasn’t doing it. His “consultant” was.
Goose bumps ran down my back. Annalise was right. This was completely out of my league.
I looked at Annalise. She was scowling at me. “Have you been paying attention to this crap?” Charlie Three was talking about siting a plastics factory.
“His great-grandfather summoned a predator out of the Empty Spaces, right?” I said. “And this dick has been communing with it somehow, using it to draw in customers for his fucking toys. And it’s been taking the children for some reason, probably to eat them.”
“That’s what I figure, too,” she said. “And I’ll bet it was this predator that controlled those women in his office”—she held up her hands—“burning them all to protect him. He doesn’t have the power or the guts for a move like that.”
I turned to Able Katz. “Do you remember what happened after our meeting at your office?”
“What meeting?” he said, sounding irritated. “I’ve never seen either of you before in my life.” Charles was droning on, but I was focused on Able. It was true. Just as I’d suspected, he couldn’t remember meeting us any more than Doug and Meg Benton could remember their dead kids. The predator was controlling people.
“Why hasn’t the predator run amuck? Why hasn’t it tried to kill everyone on the planet?”
“It’s probably bound somehow. Eli must have helped them summon and bind it.”
“That was a long time ago. Do you think it’s likely to get free?”
She looked back at Able Katz, who was scowling at us. He must have thought we should pay more attention to his boss’s speech. “It’s already free enough to kill.”
I thought of the way the children had fallen apart when they burned. They’d turned into little worms and crawled off to the southwest. To here, in fact, or somewhere close to here. I wondered if the predator was feeding on those worms.
Hammer started talking about median home prices, and I couldn’t take it anymore. “Shut up!” I snapped. “You want to avoid violence? I’ll make you an offer. Send your guards away. Turn over to us all copies of the book Eli Warren sold to your great-grandfather. Take us to your so-called consultant.”
“But,” the voice said, “the company can’t continue without my, um, consultant.”
“The company isn’t going to continue,” I said. “And neither are you. There’s too much blood on your hands.”
“I can find those kids again!”
I turned to the guards. “Hear that? I’m talking about missing children, and he’s worried about his company. Is that who you’re trying to protect?”
“Don’t bother,” Able said. “These men are not going to turn against us. They’re professionals. That’s why I hired them. They do their jobs.”
Annalise turned to me. “And you had better do your job.”
She dropped the fistful of green ribbons onto the carpet, then grabbed my arm. She winced while she did it.
The ribbons struck the carpet and flared into green fire. Flames engulfed my legs, but I didn’t feel any pain. Several of the guards gaped at us in shock, and one cried out. They thought we were burning ourselves alive.
The fire crawled up our bodies and billowed outward. As soon as the flames reached above her head, Annalise charged forward.
Able Katz’s expression went slack. He stood and inhaled deeply.
The tinny voice on the speakerphone shouted, “No! No! No!”
Annalise slapped the desk to the side. It smashed a window and tore the drape from the rod. The desk and drape fell outside and crashed to the rocks below.
The four guards who had been flanking Able opened fire on Annalise, drowning out Hammer’s voice.
Annalise slammed into Able, knocking him into the wall with a sickening thunk. Blood-red fire blasted from his mouth, igniting the wooden beams in the ceiling. He had been about to breathe dragon breath on us, just like the officer workers at Hammer Bay Toys.
I dropped low into Annalise’s green fire and rolled toward the far wall. The guns made an incredible racket in the enclosed room. I felt something zip past me. It must have been a ricochet off Annalise’s invulnerable body.
I lifted myself into a crouch. The green flames were spreading toward me, and the six guards along the wall bolted toward the door they had entered through. Good. Let them run. At least they’d live.
One of them turned and saw me. He raised his weapon.
Without thinking, I threw the ghost knife at him. One of his partners bumped him in the rush to get to the door, and another stepped briefly into his line of fire. Then the ghost knife struck him over the heart.
The guard collapsed onto the carpet. The man behind him tripped over him and fell into the doorway, blocking it. The green flames reached them, and they disappeared within the fire. I could hear their screams.
I summoned my ghost knife. It flew into my hand. Of course I had killed them. Damn.
The door behind me opened. I spun, catching a quick glimpse of the two men entering through the doorway we had just used. Both held their Uzis at the ready. I threw the ghost knife again and ducked into the flames, throwing myself flat on the floor.
The bullets zipped above me. Then I heard a bang, as if one of the Uzis had jammed and backfired, and the two men cried out. All gunfire in the room stopped. Just then, the green fire evaporated. I looked around the room. The two guards who had entered behind us were smoking skeletons. One of the submachine guns in their hands had burst open.
“You did good,” Annalise said, her back to me. The room seemed strangely quiet after all the gunfire, but there was a terrible stench of burned plastic and roasted flesh in the air.
“It doesn’t feel like good,” I said. I glanced over to where she had been fighting. The other four guards were also smoking bones. So was Able Katz.
I should have been sick, but I had already passed that point. Maybe if there had been one body, or two, I could have puked my guts out and cried like a little girl, but these were too much. It didn’t seem real.
“At least for them, it was quick.” Annalise turned toward me. Her right eye was gone. She had only an empty socket there. Just below that empty socket, in her cheekbone, was a second bullet hole.
“Holy … !” I shouted. I backed away from her. She had two bullets in her head, with no exit wounds, but she was walking around as if nothing had happened. What the hell was she? Was she even alive?
“I know,” she said. “It sucks when this happens.” She reached up and gingerly touched her face with her stiff, inflamed hand. One of her fingers slipped into her ruined eye socket.
That did it. I heaved a thin, acid stream onto the carpet.
“Oh, knock it off,” she snapped. “You’re not the one who got shot. Let’s go.”
She charged through the doorway, kicking the smoking bones out of her way.
Holy God, what was I doing here? What was she?
I was about to follow her, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t step over the bones of the men we’d just killed.
“What are you waiting for?” she snapped at me.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t help picturing the guards’ wives and children, their mothers and fathers.
The smashed-up computer lay in a heap beside one of the bodies. I strode over to it and lifted the webcam. The little red light was still on, but I didn’t know if it was still sending images.
“This is your fault,” I said to the camera. “You put these people here. You asked them to die for you. You—”
Something smashed the camera out of my hand. It was a scorched human skull.
“For God’s sake!” Annalise hissed. “This is why you’ll never be more than a wooden man, Ray. You’re too fucking soft. Don’t talk to the targets. Don’t taunt them. Don’t be their fucking friends. It just makes things harder. Be a fucking professional. Treat them like objects.” She held up the skull and waved it in front of my face. “They’re glass figurines, Ray, and nothing more—some are very pretty, some not so much. But it’s your job to break some of those figurines, and you can never tell right away which ones that’ll be.”
I stepped away from the skull. “Don’t—”
She stepped toward me, and for a moment I thought she was going to rub the blackened bone against my face. “Does this bother you? Get over it. This is what we do. We make corpses. And maybe, if we make enough of them …”
She broke off. Her hand was shaking. She let the skull fall to the floor and cradled her hand against her chest. Her pain must have been intense. She scowled at the floor. I saw anger in her expression, and resentment, too. And regret.
The overhead sprinkler system turned on. I looked up to see water dousing the flames Able had blasted onto the ceiling. Annalise and I stood in the downpour while brilliant sunlight shone through the broken window.
“Boss—”
“Could you kill a priest, Ray? Could you kill a priest who only wanted to help terminally ill children? Could you kill a mother who was trying to protect her kids? Could you kill a five-year-old girl whose only crime is that some idiot adult cast a spell on her? I could. I’ve done all those things.”
“You’re good at this, Ray. You’re good at this job. And the society needs good people, more than ever. But you’re useless if you stop right before the finish line to moralize. We have a planet full of people to save. Get it? If someone gets between you and your target, there’s a planet full of people who will die if you can’t bring yourself to do your job.”
She clamped her mouth shut and turned away. I had the impression that she had a lot more to say, but she had to hold it back. She sealed it all off with anger.
Suddenly Annalise seemed very human to me, despite the grotesque injuries to her face. And she was right. If we stopped now, more little kids were going to die. Charles Hammer needed killing.
She marched into the hall. “Come on. We have to search the house.” I bent and touched one of the unfired Uzis. It was, as expected, cool to the touch. I lifted it and draped the strap over my neck. It was a weapon, but it didn’t make me feel any more confident about the coming fight.
I followed her into the hallway. There were three doors along the far side. I charged into the first one. It was an empty bathroom. Annalise opened the next. It was a laundry room and pantry. Farther down the hall was the kitchen, complete with gas range and walk-in fridge. Beyond that was a set of stairs leading to the second floor.
The upstairs was just a single room, broken up by a couple of support columns. There was a small cluster of exercise equipment, some bookshelves, some closets, a terrace with a monstrous charcoal grill, and an open futon against the far wall.
“This way,” Annalise said. She kicked open a door. It led to a ten-foot-long covered causeway that connected to the entrance of the tower. We strode across it, looking down at the jagged black rocks twenty feet below.
The tower was made of gray stone blocks. It was dark inside, with only a single electric light burning above.
Annalise sprinted up the wooden stairs. I followed as closely as I could with my injured leg. She seemed to have forgotten that I was supposed to be her decoy.
We ran up the spiraling stairs, never pausing at the landings or glancing out the windows. Annalise tugged a ribbon free, but I couldn’t see what it was. My shoe was filling with blood, and I started to fall behind.
Annalise finally reached the ladder at the top of the stairs. She climbed up, threw her shoulder into the trapdoor above us, and broke through it.
She flinched, turning her face down toward me. There was the boom of a shotgun. Annalise’s head snapped back, and I knew she had taken the blast in the side of her face. The ribbon fell from her fingers, and she sagged toward me for a moment. I heard the gunman rack a new shell into the shotgun.
Instead of falling off the ladder and through the center of the tower, Annalise stood up straight again. She was still fighting.
“No!” someone shouted in disbelief. “No!”
Annalise was halfway through the trap. She covered her face as another blast struck. This time, she had braced herself and didn’t even flinch.
Whoever was up there racked the shotgun once more. Annalise climbed out of the trapdoor. I was right behind her.
Charles Hammer backed toward the other end of the room. Annalise ran at him. He aimed the shotgun low, blasting at her feet. Her legs went out from under her, and she fell onto her hands. I heard her hiss in pain.
I gained the tower room. I saw books all around me, and another silver hoop in the middle of the room. This one was bent and twisted into a variety of strange sigils.
On the other side of that hoop stood Charles Hammer. He looked like a sick man. His skin was sallow, his hair was greasy, and he had bags under his eyes. The room smelled like old socks and gunpowder.
Annalise stood. I slipped my ghost knife between my teeth and lifted the Uzi. No sense in being fancy about it.
Hammer’s eyes rolled back into his head. His mouth dropped open and he took a deep breath. My iron gate twinged painfully. It felt as though someone had reached under my skin and made a fist.
I squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. It felt stuck. I squeezed it as hard as I could, but the weapon still wouldn’t fire. I realized that the safety had to be on, but I had no idea where the safety was.
Charles blasted a column of fire from his mouth. Annalise threw herself at me, knocking me back through the trapdoor. I fell off the ladder just as the flames engulfed Annalise from head to toe.
I heard her scream. I was screaming, too. I tumbled down the stairs, wrenching my arm against the railing as I yanked myself to a stop. My legs dangled over the edge, with the long, long drop through the tower below them.
I pulled myself onto the steps, untangling the gun as I did. The fire still blasted over the top of the stairs. There was no way to enter the room above without charging straight through the flames. I held up the gun, found what looked like the safety, and flipped it. My iron gate throbbed.
Then the jet of flames stopped. I heard a sick, choking noise. What the hell, I thought. I charged up the stairs, screaming.
Everything in the room was charred and blackened. The acrid stink of smoke burned my nose and eyes. I couldn’t see Annalise anywhere. Hammer stumbled back against the tower window, clutching at his throat.
The inside of his mouth was as black as the room around me. The fire had cooked him as it came out. But as I watched, his lips turned pink, and his mouth and throat healed as quickly as Arlene’s ravaged throat had.
I shot him.
I tried to fire a short burst up the center of his body, from crotch to forehead, but the Uzi kicked like crazy, and the trail of bullets tore through his shoulder instead. Charles Hammer the Third stumbled back and fell out the tower window.
I ran across the room, feeling the burned wood wobble dangerously under my feet. I reached the window before he struck the rocks below. I saw him hit. Hard. He was still.
I noticed a piece of silver wire set into the windowsill. It ran from the hoop on the floor out the window and then down the side of the tower. I wondered what was at the other end. I also wondered when my iron gate was going to stop throbbing.
Then I saw Hammer lift his arm. Damn. The gun and the rocks hadn’t finished him. He wasn’t dead.
I turned back to the trapdoor, wondering if Annalise had managed to leap out a window, too, when I saw her. I had run right past her without recognizing her.
She was burned. Her skin and clothes were blackened and shriveled. She was not burned down to her bones, she was too tough for that, but her mouth gaped wide and her little hands were curled into fists. She held them as though she was about to knock my head off. She was absolutely still. She was gone.