Page 24

She’s looking up. A dim flicker, the first pale hint of the Perseid meteor shower, glimmers behind her, but that isn’t what she’s looking at.

HARDCASTLE: What is it, then?

KAPOOR: For a bunch of scientists who came out here to stare at the sky, you’re not very observant. It’s August 13th—well, 14th now.

BAKER: So?

NOVAK: Oh. Oh, my God. What—

KAPOOR: Exactly.

CARREAU: I don’t understand.

KAPOOR: This is the second night of the full moon.

HARDCASTLE: And?

Sophia tugs her mother’s sleeve.

SOPHIA: But Momma. There isn’t any moon.

One by one, the researchers look upward.

The stars begin to fall.

9

THERE WAS Abuzzing deep in my bones. I spun around. Expecting, hoping, to find an empty room, and Abby and Liam looking at me with thatwhat’s wrong with herlook I knew so well.

And there they were, startled into silence by my abrupt turn. But they seemed faded, their figures stuttering, as if under a dying bulb. And each time they dimmed, the beast in the shadows flickered more solidly into being.

A hole in the shape of a man. Six wings, outstretched so that they filled the church—so that they werelargerthan the church, the very space around it warping.

I screamed. The shadow lunged for me, past the flickering images of Abby and Liam, becoming more real as they grew less so. I threw myself backward, away from it, and hit the wall hard. I scrambled sideways, diving out the door, but my foot caught, and I spilled onto the ground, scraping my knees.

A hand grabbed my arm, yanked me around. I stared, barely comprehending, into Abby’s face. Her features were blurred, streaky like looking through dirty glass. Her words distorted.

“What’s wrong? Sophia, you have to tell me what’s happening.” Behind her, in the doorway of the church, the winged creature advanced, step by step, almost curious in its approach.

I tried to speak, gasped, tried again. “There’s something there,” I managed.

“There’s nothing there,” Liam said, bewildered. He had the radio in his hand.

“It’s coming closer,” I hissed, gripping Abby’s arm. Her expression was focused, fierce.Help me, I wanted to tell her, but the words withered in my throat as my mouth turned dry with fear.

“What’s happening to her?” Liam demanded.

The creature had stopped at the threshold. It watched me—I couldn’t see its eyes, only that empty black, but I could feel them on me. The humming in my bones was painful now. Abby’s and Liam’s forms were becoming more and more indistinct.

Enough, I thought fiercely, andshovedthe feelings out. This time, the void was waiting. It devoured my fear, devoured everything, scraping me empty to the bone. The world grew sharp edges, the clarity of a still mind. I could feel the grit of sand and stone beneath my palms, see the weathered grain of the wood planks of the church, hear the raucous calling of the terns. There was something in their calls that matched the thrum in my bones, and matched, too, the strange vibration the creature was making, almost too low to hear, a sound I could feel in my chest, rising and falling and twisting in strange notes.

“I can hear it,” I said softly.

A sharp pain lanced through my arm, and I yelped, yanking it against my body.

The world shuddered, and righted itself. Liam and Abby were solid again, clear. The door of the church stood empty.

My arm was bleeding just above my wrist. My sleeve had ridden up, and there was a slice across the skin, deep enough that it throbbed. Abby had a knife in one hand, the edge stained red. “Why did you do that?” I asked—my tone slightly puzzled, detached. Abby’s brow furrowed at me, and I realized that wasn’t how I should sound.