braced himself against a pillar, then kicked Shannon hard in the chest, cracking some of her bones as well. She flew backward into the dining hall. Then Virgil fled after Brandon, wood shards bursting with every gunshot that hit the staircase around him. Brandon turned and raced after Heather.
The boardroom was a stately office suite on the country club’s second floor. Dusty old books that no one ever read lined its walls, and its single large window offered a spectacular view of the golf course that no one ever appreciated. For as long as Brandon could remember, the room had only been used by wealthy landowners, to formally discuss their real estate ventures and the occasional business partnership.
Now, it could serve as a bunker. It had only one entrance, and that entrance contained a double set of thick wooden doors that would be next to impossible to break through. Of course, whoever was attacking them could shoot out the window, but since the room was on the second floor, the attackers would have trouble getting up to them. In the meantime, maybe Brandon and Heather could devise a plan of escape.
Together, they ran across the interior balcony overhanging the lobby, then through the boardroom’s huge wooden doors. Brandon waited for Virgil to join them, then slammed the doors and locked them with a heavy sigh of relief.
•
Thorn had met Amy by chance, when her mother had gone to the house of a friend—one of Thorn’s charges at the time—to socialize. Thorn had grown bored with the conversation, so he’d wandered into his charge’s daughter’s bedroom. Madison, the girl had been named. She’d been told to play with Amy. The girls were both six years old, and the mothers had assumed they’d become best friends, like themselves.
“I know something you don’t know,” Madison said when the girls were alone.
“What’s that?” little Amy asked.
“If you take a little bit of salt, and you sprinkle it on top of your head, you can fly.” She whispered this last bit like it was a profound revelation.
At first, Amy was impressed. “Really? Whoa.”
“Yeah. I almost tried it and jumped off the bunk bed, but I got scared. Will you try it?”
“You want me to try and fly?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” The girls snuck out to the kitchen, nabbed some table salt, then sprinkled a bit in Amy’s hair. She climbed to the top of the bunk bed, but when Madison—and Thorn—prompted her to jump, she balked. “How do you know you can fly if you put salt on your head?” Amy asked.
“Well how do you know you can’t?” Madison responded.
“I don’t want to do it if I don’t know if it’ll work.”
“Trust me. I know it’ll work. I saw it work on someone in a movie.”
“But this is just normal salt. How do you know it’ll work for me?”
Madison stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I believe really strongly that it’ll work. That’s how I know.”
Amy peered over the edge of the bed at the floor, which must have looked very far away to a six-year-old.
Provoked by nothing more than Amy’s hesitation, Madison said, “You think you know everything, don’t you? I know a lot more than you.”
“No, I don’t know. That’s why I don’t want to jump.”
“Are you chicken?”
Ever the shy introvert, Amy kept her head lowered as she climbed down from the top bunk, shamefaced. “I’m really sorry,” she said.
Madison pushed her against the wall. “Gosh, you have no imagination. You must be a boring person. Maybe even a bad person. Why won’t you just believe me?”
Why indeed. As a former Angel of Reason, Thorn had felt a kinship with the young Amy’s questioning nature. She was keen for a girl of six; even at that age, she’d resisted peer pressure better than most adults. Perhaps, the mighty Thorn had thought, he could wield Amy’s intelligence to effect her demise and the demise of everyone around her. He’d fantasized about how he could keep her questions from shining the
The boardroom was a stately office suite on the country club’s second floor. Dusty old books that no one ever read lined its walls, and its single large window offered a spectacular view of the golf course that no one ever appreciated. For as long as Brandon could remember, the room had only been used by wealthy landowners, to formally discuss their real estate ventures and the occasional business partnership.
Now, it could serve as a bunker. It had only one entrance, and that entrance contained a double set of thick wooden doors that would be next to impossible to break through. Of course, whoever was attacking them could shoot out the window, but since the room was on the second floor, the attackers would have trouble getting up to them. In the meantime, maybe Brandon and Heather could devise a plan of escape.
Together, they ran across the interior balcony overhanging the lobby, then through the boardroom’s huge wooden doors. Brandon waited for Virgil to join them, then slammed the doors and locked them with a heavy sigh of relief.
•
Thorn had met Amy by chance, when her mother had gone to the house of a friend—one of Thorn’s charges at the time—to socialize. Thorn had grown bored with the conversation, so he’d wandered into his charge’s daughter’s bedroom. Madison, the girl had been named. She’d been told to play with Amy. The girls were both six years old, and the mothers had assumed they’d become best friends, like themselves.
“I know something you don’t know,” Madison said when the girls were alone.
“What’s that?” little Amy asked.
“If you take a little bit of salt, and you sprinkle it on top of your head, you can fly.” She whispered this last bit like it was a profound revelation.
At first, Amy was impressed. “Really? Whoa.”
“Yeah. I almost tried it and jumped off the bunk bed, but I got scared. Will you try it?”
“You want me to try and fly?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” The girls snuck out to the kitchen, nabbed some table salt, then sprinkled a bit in Amy’s hair. She climbed to the top of the bunk bed, but when Madison—and Thorn—prompted her to jump, she balked. “How do you know you can fly if you put salt on your head?” Amy asked.
“Well how do you know you can’t?” Madison responded.
“I don’t want to do it if I don’t know if it’ll work.”
“Trust me. I know it’ll work. I saw it work on someone in a movie.”
“But this is just normal salt. How do you know it’ll work for me?”
Madison stood up and put her hands on her hips. “I believe really strongly that it’ll work. That’s how I know.”
Amy peered over the edge of the bed at the floor, which must have looked very far away to a six-year-old.
Provoked by nothing more than Amy’s hesitation, Madison said, “You think you know everything, don’t you? I know a lot more than you.”
“No, I don’t know. That’s why I don’t want to jump.”
“Are you chicken?”
Ever the shy introvert, Amy kept her head lowered as she climbed down from the top bunk, shamefaced. “I’m really sorry,” she said.
Madison pushed her against the wall. “Gosh, you have no imagination. You must be a boring person. Maybe even a bad person. Why won’t you just believe me?”
Why indeed. As a former Angel of Reason, Thorn had felt a kinship with the young Amy’s questioning nature. She was keen for a girl of six; even at that age, she’d resisted peer pressure better than most adults. Perhaps, the mighty Thorn had thought, he could wield Amy’s intelligence to effect her demise and the demise of everyone around her. He’d fantasized about how he could keep her questions from shining the
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