Page 146 of The Last Session

“I should’ve known.” Moon shook her head. Her accent was gone, her voice flat. “That you’re on the side of darkness. I should’ve felt it the moment I met you.”

“For god’s sake, just stop! Please!” Clint’s voice was both sharp and pleading. “Itisn’t real.”

Moon launched off her left foot and flew across the room, so quickly she was a blur. It was only at the last second that I saw the flash of silver in her hand.

If she had just pushed him, he could’ve held his ground. After all, she was much smaller.

But first she plunged a kitchen knife deep into his belly.

He let out a strangled squawk, looking down, and in that confused moment she pushed his chest with all of her might.

He staggered back through the doorway and fell backwards down the stairs.

57

We stood frozen, listening to Clint’s grunts and cries for what felt like an eternity until all returned to silence.

Moon stood at the edge of the hole, peering down. Karen clutched me so hard my ribs hurt. My hand was pressed over my mouth. Was Clint dead? He had to be, didn’t he? My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might explode.

“Jesus, babe.” Sol continued to point the gun in our direction. “Go get the knife.” He sounded weary and unhappy but not in the least surprised.

Moon traipsed down the steps.

Behind Sol, Catherine’s and Joe’s eyes bulged, their faces pale. Even Steven was looking up, his brown eyes round. I considered trying to catch Catherine’s gaze, but there was no point. She was a lost cause.

Moon reappeared a minute later. She held the knife in her right hand, the blade clean. There were large dark marks on the stomach of her gray sweatshirt, where for whatever reason she’d wiped the knife off. She returned to Sol’s side, looking calmer, though still perturbed. “He’s gone.” The accent was back.

“It’s okay, hon.” Karen raised a shaking hand. “Let’s just stop this before anyone else gets hurt.”

“He’s a bad person, Karen.” Moon slipped the knife in her back jeans pocket. Her eyes looked a little too wide. “Let’s leave them here for now. I need to go meditate on this.”

Once they’d locked us in, Karen eased me to the floor. She and Mikki grabbed their lanterns and disappeared down the stairs.

As much as I didn’t want to go back down there, I had to see too. On unsteady legs, I went to the stairs. About a third of the way down I had to sit and rest. If I ducked down, I could see the circles of light at thebottom. Clint lay on his back, his left leg twisted underneath him at an odd angle. His blue shirt was black with blood. Mikki was pressing her fingers to his throat.

“Is he okay?” I called absurdly.

Slowly, Karen rose. “No.”

“Fuck!” Mikki cried. She jumped and thundered up the stairs past me into the studio. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the hunger, but I felt completely numb. I climbed back up and settled onto the floor, my back against the wall. Mikki paced around the room like a trapped tiger.

“There has to be a way out of here.” She spoke quickly. “Karen? Where the fuck is Karen?”

“I think she’s coming back up.” I put a hand on my stomach. The hunger pains were coming back, sharp as knitting needles.

“Shit.”She rubbed her eyes. “This is bad. We’re screwed.”

“Did you tell anyone you were coming back here?” I asked.

“Yeah. My editor and my sister. But I told them to call the police if I didn’t get back to them in twenty-hour hours. It’s been, what, four?” She crouched next to me, studying me. “You okay? You don’t look good. What was it—a small cave?”

I nodded.

“How small?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Eight by eight? But half of it was underwater.”

“God. And Grace…”