The moment Val saw the stones appear ahead of them in the woods, white and unassuming, she jerked to a halt. Light-headed, she clutched the rough bark of a nearby tree, turned her face into a clutch of wet leaves.
“What is it?” Marion’s voice came to her as if through a dream. Val realized the steadiness she felt at her elbow was in fact Zoey, holding her up.
“Sorry, I—” Val took a few deep breaths to calm her roiling stomach. She was no longer content to give him her tears.
Marion cupped her face and directed her gaze up from the ground. “I’m here,” she said, her thumb caressing Val’s cheek. “We’re both right here. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
Zoey squeezed her hand, and the simple gesture gave Val enough strength to look up at Marion with clear eyes and say, “Let’s go slay this son of a bitch.”
Her words were flint against steel; three pairs of eyes flashed in the night. They turned and ran.
Zoey took the lead without being asked, and as Val watched her leap into the stones, she felt a surge of affection so ferocious that, when she pushed off the ground to take that final step, euphoria swept through her body.
She landed within the stones on two solid feet, heard the furious snarl of the monster who’d owned her body since she took her first screaming breaths between her mother’s legs, and turned with blazing hands to face him.
He huddled in a corner of the stone circle, a patch of scribbled ink against the softer darkness of the woods. When Val’s gaze landed upon him, he flew. He roared and ricocheted. He careened through the space allowed him by the stones; he clawed for freedom and was denied it.
Val stood, knees loose and ready, light swelling in her hands. As they’d discussed, Marion stood behind her, with Zoey on her other side. They flanked Marion—one girl with fire at her fingertips, the other vibrating with raw electric power.
They’d decided that it might be impossible for Marion to find the original gate the Collector had crawled through. And, considering that it had been made by a monster not of their world, it might not even be possible for them to pass through it.
So Marion had decided she would have to make a gate of her own.
The Collector fell silent, gathering himself between two far stones. Dark jagged cords stretched from where he lay to the low-hanging branches of an oak tree. The tree shivered and creaked; a branch snapped in half. Two white, round eyes opened in the darkness. Val was reminded of a child playing hide-and-seek, waiting for just the right moment to jump out and scare the seeker. It wasn’t the point of the game, but that savage animal heart could not resist.
Laughter, slick and congested, bubbled up from the ground where he waited.
“Oh, I see,” came the little boy’s voice, though he had not taken that form. Val suspected that, without a host, he had only enough strength to create fragments of his false selves. The air around him crawled, infested. “You’ve come to play with me. How kind.”
Val’s skin erupted in goose bumps.
“Wrong,” came Zoey’s tense voice. “We’ve come to destroy you.”
“Wrong.” Now the little boy’s voice held no trace of amusement. “You’ve come to feed me.”
His white round gaze flicked to Marion. “I see you, little traveler.”
His voice spat every word like a mockery. Val blinked, sweat stinging her eyes. In the space of that blink, he lunged at them.
Val dug her heels into the black mud and thought of the long reaches of stone beneath her feet. The Rock that had been her home, and her mother’s home, and her grandmother’s. It had witnessed their suffering; its children had been stolen from it by a beast that did not belong. And now it had had enough.
So had Val.
Half crouched between Marion and the Collector, Val thrust out her hands and watched her light fly.
He shrieked and recoiled, springing across the stones to dodge Val and attack Zoey instead. Val heard Zoey’s distant shout, felt the ground vibrate as though something deep below had jerked awake. The Collector screamed once more, a wildcat yowling for its kill, and launched himself above them. His misshapen form blocked what little Val could see of the dimming moon. A righteous rage spiked in her breast.
That moon was not his to smother.
She twisted around, feet firmly in place, reached down into the ripe soil with every thought she possessed—every ounce of energy, every feeling—and let herself effloresce. Fire scorched her chest, her lungs, her palms. The heat ripped tears from her eyes, but she did not waver.
Then, like a door slamming shut on a room flooded with warmth, Val’s light vanished. Every ounce of strength she’d felt coursing through her body disappeared.
Bereft, she asked the Rock: Where did you go?
The answer became clear in an instant.
The earth directly underneath Marion’s feet shook, ready to ignite.
Marion drew a shaky breath.
“Now,” she whispered, and her eyes locked with Val’s—triumphant and a little sad.
For one vicious instant, Val considered aborting their plan. She would wrap Marion in her arms and shield her from the necessity of what was about to happen. She would burn around her, an unwavering human flame, until the Collector scorched himself to ash trying to get to them.
But instead, she tore her gaze from Marion and dropped to the ground. She wrapped her arms around Marion’s left leg and saw Zoey, inches from her, eyes wide and teary, do the same to Marion’s right. In the space between Marion’s calves, their knuckles knocked together like a clumsy kiss.
Above them, the Collector shrieked and dove at Marion, his fall erratic but inevitable. Zoey’s fingers clamped tight over hers. Val pressed her cheek against Marion’s thigh, squeezed her eyes shut. A tidal wave crashed through Marion’s body, surging up from the wet rocky ground beneath them. Val’s hands stung as if they were being molded to the surface of the sun. Marion shuddered violently, Val’s and Zoey’s firm grips clearly the only thing holding her up.
Beneath them, the Rock opened. The sea surged up to meet them and swallowed.