Heat licked my face as the witch held me only inches from the giant oven. Sweat stung my eyes and pooled above my lip.
If I died in this construct, that would be okay—as long as Gia was safe. Gia would hold Lena to her promise, and my family could survive. I could be the sacrifice.
It wasn’t my first choice, but it would do as a backup.
My pocket vibrated. A voice from nowhere followed. “Get the Hyper—” It cut off abruptly. I’d barely processed that when another vibration pulsed, and the voice continued, “Oven to the—”
The words clipped off.
The hag stared at me with soulless, empty eyes. “What is that? Is something vibrating?”
“How should I know?” I said.
More vibrations came in succession, each accompanied by a burst of words. “Wall to the—”
“Right of the—”
“Counter un—”
“Der the win—”
“Your life de—” said a synthesized voice inside my brain.
Technically, all of this was inside my brain. The voice was the least odd and terrifying thing about today.
The witch didn’t appear to hear the words, just the vibration of the breadcrumbs.
“What is that? Answer me!” she screeched. Her eye sockets bored into me as if they might suck me into their void. “What is that infernal buzzing?”
I held my breath, waiting for more.
The hag’s face reddened, and her thin body shook. Her fingers tightened around my jaw as she pulled my face closer. “I built this cabin to exact specifications.” Her voice trembled. “Nothing in here buzzes!”
Her breath smelled of rotting meat. My instincts screamed to pull away, but her clawed fingers held me still.
No more vibrations, no more words.
There were exactly seven brief messages. Jarret had given me seven breadcrumbs, so the messages must have come from the team. Altogether, they said, Get the HyperOven to the wall to the right of the counter under the window. Your life de …
My life depended on it?
“Speak!” The witch shook me so hard my head lolled on my shoulders.
“It’s just my stomach.” The lie came smoothly. “I’ve never been this terrified before, and I think I might vomit.” I gagged and raised my bound hands to my face.
“Not in my construct!” The witch released my face and stepped back. “It’s all in your head. If you ruin this gorgeous construct with your ridiculous biological …” She made a retching sound and flung me toward the kitchen.
The heat of the fire receded as I tripped toward the sink—and the HyperOven beside it.
I hit the counter hard and bent over it.
My hands were still bound, but years of playing sports had given me excellent hand-eye coordination. I swung my fists like a bat. I connected with the HyperOven, and with a satisfying crunch, the machine sailed through the air.
It hit the floor with a thud, bounced, and landed against the cabin wall, directly under the window.
The wall flickered.