The masked demon silently watches me from her spot on the love seat as I stand in front of the blank TV. As her legs continue to swing back and forth, I drift back through my week, looking to discover how and why I ended up inside Lauren.
It wasn’t my first vision of a death. Elizabeth showed me the vision of MJ’s death. That vision was much different, though. I was inside Lifa, but it was nothing like being inside Lauren—dying with her.
Before Elizabeth pushed me into the fountain—her Time Keeper—she talked about my dreams . . . that they’re “broken.” She was so scared about that.
The memories resurface, repeating Elizabeth’s words about the broken dreams: If you aren’t linked to them anymore, that means your mind is open to any one of us who knows about you. Someone else could use it to show you things, as I have. They can use it to make you do things or to find you.
Hearing my thoughts, the masked demon eyes me.
“Where’s Elizabeth?” I ask. “We need her.”
She shakes her head as if I’ve answered something incorrectly. “That is not the point to focus on.”
“Yes, it is. She controls the dreams. She can fix them. I thought something happened to her after she helped me at Justin’s house, but then she pushed one of MJ’s team members when we were at school today. I haven’t seen her since.”
“That was not her.”
I blink. “Then who was it?”
“Someone invested in your future. I cannot tell you more than that.” Before I can even speak, she continues, “Your first assumption was closest to the truth: Elizabeth has not been heard from since helping you at the demon’s house.”
My heart stills. Another person I care about is missing.
“She knew the risks of helping you,” the masked demon replies.
“What does that mean? Is she in danger?”
“She is dead, Maddy.” I can sense a wry smile behind the mask. “She can handle whatever is being done to her.”
“But what is being done to her? Who’s doing it to her? Where’s Damien? He wouldn’t allow her to get—”
“Stop,” she says, rising and coming over to me. She places her hands on my arms. Her essence rushes in, breaking up my worries.
“Calm down. You are our priority—Elizabeth knows that. Once you are safe, she will be also. Finding her now would not solve anything. It would only put you at a greater risk. Right now, you need to stop wasting time and figure out why you had a vision of this girl’s death.”
Her essence splits and rushes into my mind. Within seconds, Elizabeth’s words loop again: your mind is open to any one of us who knows about you . . .
The masked demon releases me. As the words fade, my mouth slowly falls open.
That’s why I had the vision of Lauren dying when I didn’t with the other victims. Now that Elizabeth’s Time Keeper is broken, the demon is somehow sending my soul into his victims.
He knows about me.
I look into the masked demon’s red eyes, searching for answers.
“For nearly seventeen years, the killer could only speculate about your existence. It was not certain you were even alive. But by succeeding in sending your soul into girl eight today, the killer now knows, without a doubt, you are alive. The killer can connect with your soul. It does not know your true identity or physical whereabouts.” She pauses. “Yet.”
“Does this mean I’ll have visions of the others’ deaths if the demon isn’t stopped?”
The masked demon doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. At the moment, the killer believes you may be one of these remaining girls on the target list. Regardless, with access to your soul, the killer is sending you into each victim. You are meant to suffer—and possibly die—with each target.”
I can’t go through that. Not again and again as each girl dies in my place. I don’t care if I might somehow survive these visions. I just . . . can’t face that again.
The masked demon shakes her head to correct me once more. “The visions are dangerous, yes. But what is more important is that with this connection to your soul, sooner or later the killer will find you. It is critical, therefore, that you understand why the killer is after you.”
I’m a bit numb as she maneuvers me back to the couch. Then she turns on the TV and fast-forwards to my conversation with Duane in the guest room. Without any explanation, she presses play, and I relive it all again.
As I watch, she sits in the love seat beside the couch, again swinging her feet over the edge.
Although it’s still strange to see my life from the outside, and although what Duane tells me is still terrible, it’s somewhat easier to take it all in now. This time, I can really focus because I’m not overwhelmed with shock. I lean in toward the screen.
Once the scene is finished, she turns the TV off again. Again without a word, she looks over at me. She’s waiting for me to say something. To realize something. I can see only her eyes from behind the mask, but they’re dim, almost haunted.
I flop back on the couch in frustration. “What am I missing?” I ask.
She links her fingers over her stomach. “Seattle to Atlanta is a long distance for a baby to travel on its own.”
Someone—mortal or otherwise—obviously brought me to Atlanta. All Duane said was that the others “found” me. Duane didn’t know me until I showed up outside my parents’ door in Atlanta, so one of the others must have brought me there. It had to be someone who wanted to help me. Someone who cared for me enough to take me across the states.
“Elizabeth,” I say, voicing my thoughts. “She found me beside the car. She said she was about to cross over but was pulled back for some reason. She found me and must have followed as the rescue team brought me to the hospital. And then she must have moved me after the hospital caught fire.”
Although I can’t see her face, I get the sense the masked demon is smiling.
Questions pour out of my mouth all at once. “Is Elizabeth one of the ‘others’ Duane mentioned? Are they working together? What about Damien? She told me she brought Damien to me. And your master”—I nod toward the huge desk—“you said he’s helping me too, right?”
Looking at the stone desk, suddenly I wonder about Damien. I know he’s a demon and a powerful one. He could have demons working for him, such as the masked demon. Elizabeth, at least, believes he is trying to help me. Could Damien be her master?
I know she can hear my thoughts, but she doesn’t reply. “Can I meet him, your master?” I ask out loud.
The masked demon stiffens. Her eyes flash to the door. Mine follow, expecting it to open. It doesn’t.
“No. My master is next in line for the throne. He cannot get involved, which is why he charged me with watching over you.”
It can’t be Damien, then. Damien was trying to leave Hell, not take it over.
Sadness curls around me. I didn’t realize it until just now, but I wanted it to be Damien. I wanted to believe he was helping me. If not for me, then for Elizabeth.
“Listen,” she says, “you are doing well piecing things together. But you still have more to uncover.”
I release my breath in a huff. More? What more could there possibly be?
“Something very important,” she stresses.
I stand and pace by the TV, replaying in my mind everything Duane told me, searching for something left unsaid. The conversation begins to mix as if in a blender. The words spin round and round, but a few points stick out.
My mother’s car accident. The twelve girls’ parents dying the same day. And sacrifices.
“Are you sure it was an accident?” the masked demon asks, listening to my thoughts.
My gaze flashes to her. I’m unable to speak. Unable to think. It can’t be true.
“The killer knew your parents,” she says.
She stands and slowly moves toward me. Her eyes are distant. Even more haunted. Pained. She blinks.
“The killer caused your mother’s death.”
No.
My mother is not only dead but murdered.
I sway, and she places her hand on my shoulder to steady me. Her essence rushes in, filling my broken heart.
“Many beings are forbidden from taking a life themselves,” she says, “so they use other means. The killer must have compelled the other driver to crash into your mother.”
“Why?” It’s all I can manage.
“The killer wanted your mother to die,” she says. She tightens her grip on my shoulder. “The killer wanted you to die as well.”
I sink to the floor. She lowers herself with me, never letting go.
“You were not meant to survive, but you did,” she says. “It was in the news. You were called ‘the miracle baby’ who was somehow born during a car wreck.”
Tears spill. A “miracle” is the last thing I’d ever call myself.
“The killer saw these reports and knew you had survived.”
“Is that why he set the hospital on fire?” I ask.
The masked demon shakes her head. She takes a breath, though I feel it’s more for me than for her.
“To protect you, the others working with Duane set the nursery on fire. They replaced you with another baby who would be identified as you so the killer would assume you had died.
“Elizabeth moved you to Georgia and set you at the Pages’ door. You were placed in a foster home for three weeks while the Pages waited to adopt you. But the killer followed. As a precaution, a fire was started at the foster home to falsify your death again.”
The fires were set to . . . protect me?
Sacrifices.
Her essence intensifies, soothing my shattered heart. Then it splits and enters my mind again.
“The pattern, Maddy,” she says.
Car crash. Fire. Fire. The same pattern over and over in my mind.
She stands back and removes her hands.
It takes a moment for my thoughts to settle before I can speak. “Are you saying the pattern is some kind of test? The killer is murdering the other girls by car crash and fire just to see if any survive?”
“Perhaps. But more importantly, the pattern is a message: the killer might not know which girl you are, but it knows what the others did to protect you.”
I look away, horrified. My hands shake. A tear slides down my cheek.
I begin to stand. I have to leave. Now. Somehow. I have to tell MJ. He has to stop the demon. Together, we have to stop the demon.
Before I can get to my feet, she grabs my shoulders and pulls me down again. Her essence rushes in, half going to my heart, the rest filling my head again.
It clouds my mind this time. Thoughts disappear. The room spins. I feel lighter—free of all the guilt and pain of the day.
“MJ suspects you are a target, possibly even who the killer is really after, but he is in denial. Tell MJ the killer is coming for you, but tell him you do not know why. Say you just know.”
“I just know,” I repeat.
“He may argue, saying the killer is targeting only adopted girls. Do not tell him you are adopted. Instead, tell him it does not matter. Say you do not know why, but it just does not.”
“It just does not . . .”
“Tell him to trust you—if he does not trust you, then he will truly know what it is like to lose you, and it would be his fault.”
“His fault . . .”
After a moment, she removes her hands.
The fog lifts, and the panic and trauma rush back. I tip backward and catch myself less than an inch from crashing into the TV. She stands and tries to help me, but I push her away.
“Stop it! You can’t just compel me like that!”
“I have to. There is much to tell MJ and much to keep secret. If you tell him the full truth, he might take you away. We cannot have that.”
I tense, recalling Duane’s “promise.” Is that everyone’s big plan, to take me and hide? That’s what Damien did with Elizabeth, and it didn’t work out well. Screw that—if I’m going to die soon, it won’t be while hiding.
The masked demon’s eyes dart to the side. She’s looking at the door again. “My master will not like what I have done, but I do not care.”
Screw her master. Screw her. My stomach knots, hating the control she has over me. She wears the porcelain mask, but I’m the puppet.
My rage forces me to my feet. “I hate you! I hate all demons!”
She crosses her arms and tilts her head, waiting for me to finish.
“You say you’re trying to help me, but my life has been a disaster since you demons showed up! You’re ruining everything!”
She leans into me, inches from my face. Even though we’re the same height, she seems to tower over me.
“The killer has known about you since birth. You have lived as long as you have only because beings on both sides are working together. For you, they have put aside a hatred that was forged the day man first walked on Mortal Ground. Think about that the next time you open your mouth.” Her eyes burn brighter than the flames in the room.
“I . . .”
Words fail me. My body slumps. She’s right. I probably would have died a long time ago if it weren’t for Duane, Damien, and Elizabeth, plus the masked demon and her master.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“That is a decent start.” She relaxes her stance. “Demons are not the monsters you think they are. They were people at one point. Angels are not perfect either, but they get an unlimited supply of do-overs. Demons are sentenced to the City of the Damned for eternity. The punishment does not always fit the crime.”
I hadn’t put much thought into how or why people get sent down here. Seeing as it’s quite possible I myself will die soon, I should probably have some idea about the afterlife other than the little bit MJ has told me. For all I know, I may not have much say about where I’ll ultimately go.
The masked demon looks at me for a long moment before it dawns on me. I don’t know what she did to end up here.
She sighs and turns away. “I was born.”
I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t. “I don’t understand.”
“Me neither. But I have spent my entire life here, living vicariously through you.”
Her hand runs through her hair, then she looks over at me. Her eyes are brighter again. Even through the mask, I can tell she’s smiling.
“This will sound cruel, but I like when you are in danger. Being inside you, up there, it is better than I imagined.”
We’re both quiet for a long time.
“What’s your name?” I finally ask. “I’d like to call you something better than ‘the masked demon.’”
She laughs. “I like that. It is a mouthful, though.”
“Exactly, so . . .”
She shrugs. “I do not have a name, so it will do.”
Not only has she grown up here, but she doesn’t even have a name.
“What do you mean? What does your master call you?”
“‘Girl,’ if anything.”
“Well, then, that settles it. We’re giving you a name. What name do you like?”
Her scarlet eyes—vibrant now—look me over. She adjusts her body to mimic my posture.
“I like yours.”
The atmosphere between us shifts, becoming heavy. My pulse quickens. Although she’s a demon, I haven’t been afraid of her since that first time. But this sudden shift has me wary.
She takes a step toward me. I take a step back.
Fear closes in. My breathing accelerates. Behind her, I see the archway of her bedroom. A bedroom exactly like mine. She’s watched me my whole life . . . She enjoys coming up to save me . . . She’s been inside me . . .
She wants to be me.
“You cannot understand it now,” she says, “but our fates are entwined. You get to live up there and experience everything, while I am stuck down here waiting and watching. Always watching. You are my only connection to the life I should have had.”
She presses a button on the remote, but I can’t take my eyes off her.
“I do not know how long this will work,” she says, taking yet another step. “But even if it is only for a few minutes, I will cherish them always. Thank you for this, Madison.”
“Wh-what?”
She advances while I keep backing up, putting as much distance between us as possible.
“When I help you in moments of danger, I cannot stay in you for long—your soul fights me. But if I send your soul somewhere else, I should be able to stay in you longer.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Please don’t do this.”
“Elizabeth showed you a past belonging to MJ,” she continues, ignoring my pleas. “To keep things balanced, I will show you one from the other side.”
I risk a peek over my shoulder, and the TV is pulsing in familiar waves. “No! I don’t want to go through that again. Please don’t—”
“I am sorry, but it is for the best. You need to see that demons are not all bad. There is hope, for some. Good luck, Madison.”
She shoves me backward into the TV.