sure the effects of Margaret’s poison were successful.”
Margaret?
I’d assumed the poison was his.
“Now, Alan, be a dear and hold out your arm, please.” Richard drew a knife from his sleeve.
“What?” Alan asked.
“Hold out your arm.” Richard’s eyes flashed yellow as he stepped toward me.
My pulse spiked. Could it be this easy? If I moved fast enough, I might be able to get that knife off him and take him down before he realized what happened.
I readied to attack, hair lifting on the back of my neck. It was now or never. This bastard wasn’t going to gut me while I could still fight.
When he got close, I pushed myself off the ground. I swung a leg out to trip him, aiming to grab the blade out of his hand as he fell, but Richard raised a palm and shot a volt of electricity through me. I swore, flattening against the wall, cringing as every inch of me sizzled. Richard sliced my leg with the dagger.
“Well, that was easier than I thought,” he said, stepping away. Tipping the knife so the droplets of my blood didn’t roll off, he nodded at Alan.
Alan’s nostrils flared, but he rolled up his sleeve. Richard sliced a small gash into the Catcher’s forearm, mixing my blood with his.
“See, I’m guessing that Trishna thinks she healed you of Margaret’s poison,” Richard said. “But you were sick for maybe, what, three days? And all of a sudden, you woke up and the veins were gone.”
A chill shot down my spine. That’s exactly what happened. Three days of unconsciousness, and then I was fine—or, so I thought.
Alan fell to his knees with a shout. From his wound, dark, spidery veins spread up his arm. My heart raced.
“In reality,” Richard continued, “you’re still carrying the disease. All it takes is a little blood contact, and it spreads. Now, Alan will be ill for three days, and if his body’s strong enough, he’ll wake up. Just like you did.”
“You’re mad.” My hands clammed, and I dug my fingertips into the ground.
He shrugged. “Some would argue I’m brilliant. I mean, come on, Daniel—how many times do I have to explain that I’m trying to open the world for people like you and me? To walk freely, unafraid to be who we really are?”
Alan rolled onto his back, shaking with seizure. Black foam filled his mouth as his eyes rolled into his head. He screamed one last time, then stilled.
Richard pressed his fingers to Alan’s neck. “Guess his body couldn’t take it. Oh well. At least I know the poison works.”
My nostrils flared. Whatever he had planned needed to end now. I didn’t care if I died—I was taking him down.
I jumped off the floor, fighting the nauseating pain in my head, and tackled Richard. Pulling the knife from his hand, I aimed for his throat, but Richard blasted me off him with a burst of air. The metal only scratched his cheek.
I flew into the ceiling. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and I crashed to the floor. My right arm snapped beneath me. I shouted as bone pierced through skin, then rolled onto my back, clutching my arm to my body.
Unwanted tears burned my eyes. I’d never be able to fight him now. How many people were going to die because I’d failed to stop him? If he kept me locked in here, planning to use my blood to sicken God knows how many people… I couldn’t let that happen. Somehow, I’d have to find a way to end it—to end me.
Richard stood, brushing himself off. “Well, I was going to be a nice guy and clean you up before sending you back to your friends.”
What?
A shiver ran down my spine. Somehow, knowing he
didn’t
need me was more terrifying.
“But after that, I’m not feeling very generous.” He rolled his neck. “In fact, I think I’ll give you a little preview of what’s to come.”
He snapped his fingers, and from the ceiling dropped a Nightmare, larger than the one that had thrown me into the window in Kayla’s hospital room. My heartbeat thrashed in my ears. I winced, sinking as far
Margaret?
I’d assumed the poison was his.
“Now, Alan, be a dear and hold out your arm, please.” Richard drew a knife from his sleeve.
“What?” Alan asked.
“Hold out your arm.” Richard’s eyes flashed yellow as he stepped toward me.
My pulse spiked. Could it be this easy? If I moved fast enough, I might be able to get that knife off him and take him down before he realized what happened.
I readied to attack, hair lifting on the back of my neck. It was now or never. This bastard wasn’t going to gut me while I could still fight.
When he got close, I pushed myself off the ground. I swung a leg out to trip him, aiming to grab the blade out of his hand as he fell, but Richard raised a palm and shot a volt of electricity through me. I swore, flattening against the wall, cringing as every inch of me sizzled. Richard sliced my leg with the dagger.
“Well, that was easier than I thought,” he said, stepping away. Tipping the knife so the droplets of my blood didn’t roll off, he nodded at Alan.
Alan’s nostrils flared, but he rolled up his sleeve. Richard sliced a small gash into the Catcher’s forearm, mixing my blood with his.
“See, I’m guessing that Trishna thinks she healed you of Margaret’s poison,” Richard said. “But you were sick for maybe, what, three days? And all of a sudden, you woke up and the veins were gone.”
A chill shot down my spine. That’s exactly what happened. Three days of unconsciousness, and then I was fine—or, so I thought.
Alan fell to his knees with a shout. From his wound, dark, spidery veins spread up his arm. My heart raced.
“In reality,” Richard continued, “you’re still carrying the disease. All it takes is a little blood contact, and it spreads. Now, Alan will be ill for three days, and if his body’s strong enough, he’ll wake up. Just like you did.”
“You’re mad.” My hands clammed, and I dug my fingertips into the ground.
He shrugged. “Some would argue I’m brilliant. I mean, come on, Daniel—how many times do I have to explain that I’m trying to open the world for people like you and me? To walk freely, unafraid to be who we really are?”
Alan rolled onto his back, shaking with seizure. Black foam filled his mouth as his eyes rolled into his head. He screamed one last time, then stilled.
Richard pressed his fingers to Alan’s neck. “Guess his body couldn’t take it. Oh well. At least I know the poison works.”
My nostrils flared. Whatever he had planned needed to end now. I didn’t care if I died—I was taking him down.
I jumped off the floor, fighting the nauseating pain in my head, and tackled Richard. Pulling the knife from his hand, I aimed for his throat, but Richard blasted me off him with a burst of air. The metal only scratched his cheek.
I flew into the ceiling. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and I crashed to the floor. My right arm snapped beneath me. I shouted as bone pierced through skin, then rolled onto my back, clutching my arm to my body.
Unwanted tears burned my eyes. I’d never be able to fight him now. How many people were going to die because I’d failed to stop him? If he kept me locked in here, planning to use my blood to sicken God knows how many people… I couldn’t let that happen. Somehow, I’d have to find a way to end it—to end me.
Richard stood, brushing himself off. “Well, I was going to be a nice guy and clean you up before sending you back to your friends.”
What?
A shiver ran down my spine. Somehow, knowing he
didn’t
need me was more terrifying.
“But after that, I’m not feeling very generous.” He rolled his neck. “In fact, I think I’ll give you a little preview of what’s to come.”
He snapped his fingers, and from the ceiling dropped a Nightmare, larger than the one that had thrown me into the window in Kayla’s hospital room. My heartbeat thrashed in my ears. I winced, sinking as far
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