She had no choice but to try. Even if she hadn’t given her vow to Gilda, she still had Nika to think about. If there was even a slight chance Sibyl could help, she had to find her, no matter how horrible the place was.
She pushed away from Paul. Leaning on him felt good, but it didn’t make her feel strong, and she really needed that right now. “I need to figure out how to get there. I’m going to try again.”
Paul cupped her face and slid his thumb along her cheek. His brown eyes were filled with love and compassion, even though she’d refused to marry him less than an hour ago. She had no idea how he could look at her like that after knowing the things she’d done.
“I’ll be right here,” he told her, and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “I know you can do this.”
His faith in her was humbling, and she didn’t want to let him down.
She lay back on the bed, closed her eyes again, and took a few deep breaths. The pleasant warmth of Paul’s hand on hers distracted her for a few minutes until she got used to his touch. Slowly, their skin warmed to the same temperature and his hand became a part of her.
She pushed out all unnecessary thoughts and focused solely on Sibyl. She imagined the little girl lying asleep in her bed, hugging her favorite doll, completely unaware that she was in danger. It was easy to see her sleeping peacefully with her cheeks flushed pink and her hair mussed around her face.
Now that Andra had that image, she tried to imagine what happened next. Had Sibyl heard a sound and woken, or had she been asleep until the moment that she was dragged from her bed? Andra went through each possibility until one felt right and it sucked her in, taking over her mind, drawing her into the image until it surrounded her.
Sibyl had been awake when the thing came for her. It was dark, both inside and out. She’d heard its claws on the window as it slid the glass up. She’d lain there, frozen in place, but not by terror. By acceptance. She’d known it was going to happen—that there was nothing she could have done to stop it.
Or rather, there was nothing she was going to do to stop it, which was somehow worse.
Either way, Sibyl had felt no fear, which was what Andra had always used as a trail to follow the path a stolen child had taken. Without that trail, she had no way of figuring out where Sibyl had gone.
Andra searched for something to grasp on to. Something she could use. She struggled to stay relaxed and open her mind up to the possibilities. Maybe the monster had left a trail she could follow.
She felt around for a sense of satisfaction that she imagined the thing might feel at having won its prize. There was nothing there she could connect with. The thing was too inhuman—almost mindless except for the throbbing presence of hunger that controlled it, and that was too scattered to latch onto.
Dimly, Andra was aware that her already fatigued body was wearing down under the strain of staying in this trancelike state too long. She had to hurry.
What had she grasped on to before when she’d found Sibyl the first time? She’d been in Sibyl’s head, if only for a moment. There had to have been something that she used as a trail. What was it?
The vision she’d created in her mind started to fade as her body gave out; then she remembered she wasn’t alone. Paul was here. She could use his power.
Andra reached inside herself to that warm glowing spot where Paul’s skin touched hers. The luceria around her neck vibrated with energy. All she had to do was figure out how to use it for something as delicate as this. Combat was easy; she’d always had a knack for blowing things up. This stuff was much harder.
Nothing changed, and her strength was dwindling fast. She could feel her physical body shaking under the stress and tried to ignore it.
Desperate to find Sibyl, Andra focused on the exact spot where the luceria touched his matching ring. She could feel a tiny spark there, like static electricity arcing between two points. She reached for that spot, grasped hold of it with all her desperation and hope. Power flared inside her, filling her chest with heat. She was no longer tired. No longer weak. She felt invincible.
Instincts screamed at her to hurry, that she had no time to waste, so she lifted her hand and focused all that power so that it formed a sphere around her body. She willed the sphere to show her where to look for the trail—to highlight it so she could follow it.
One side of the globe flared to life and Andra knew that was her trail. She examined it. Poked at it until she felt what it was.
Acceptance.
Sibyl had accepted her fate, and the force of that emotion was so strong that it had left a trail—not as strong as fear, but strong enough that Andra could follow it.
Andra latched onto that acceptance, memorized it until she would know the feeling anywhere—be able to follow it wherever it led.
She followed the path south, her mind racing along it until she collided with a hard barrier. She found herself in a dark room with a single bare lightbulb overhead. The edges of the room were hidden in shadows, but somehow still pulsed with colors. Swirls of blue and green bloomed along the edges of the shapeless room. It reminded her of the sea swirling about rocks as the water was sucked back into the ocean by the tide.
Andra had been here before, if only for a brief moment. This was Sibyl’s mind.
From the shadows of those billowing clouds of color came a little girl. Sibyl.
She wore a frilly white dress and lacy ankle socks with shiny leather shoes. Her hair was a cascade of perfect blond ringlets tied back with a pink satin bow. In her arms, she held a doll that looked like her miniature twin, but instead of Sibyl’s pale blue eyes, the doll had glassy, dead black eyes like those of a shark. It was the doll Andra’s body was holding now.
“You didn’t come to me soon enough,” said Sibyl. “It’s too late now.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. We just found out you were missing.”
“No. I mean that I told Paul to bring you to me the night he found you. He failed to do so and now it’s too late.”
“I don’t understand,” said Andra.
“Of course not. No one ever does.” The colors behind her darkened to a deep, desolate purple. “You shouldn’t have come here. She’s looking for you.”
“Who is ‘she’?”
Sibyl looked over her shoulder, as if expecting someone to pop out from behind her. “Stay away. It’s not safe here.”
“I know. That’s why I am coming to take you home,” explained Andra.
“If you come here, you’ll be sorry,” warned the child in a singsong voice.
“I’d never regret helping you get home to your family.”
Her chubby cheeks fell into a blank mask and that familiar sense of acceptance that Andra had memorized flooded her senses. “If you must come, at least wait until it’s safer. Until she is gone.”
“She? Who?”
Sibyl hesitated for a moment, as if weighing a decision. “The one who brought me here.”
“Has she hurt you?”
“No more than most.”
Andra had no clue what to make of that, so she ignored it for the sake of time. She didn’t know how long she’d be able to hold her connection with Sibyl, as weak as her body was. “Tell me where you are so we can come find you.”
“You will find me on your own or not at all. I will not help you suffer.”
“I’m not going to suffer unless I fail to bring you home safe. Please help me.”
“I must remain neutral,” said Sibyl.
“Neutral? What do you mean?”
“I cannot choose sides. It would give her the freedom to act. I cannot allow that. Not now, when so much hangs in the balance.”
“What are you talking about, baby? You’re not making any sense. Have you hit your head?”
Sibyl’s blue eyes blazed until they glowed bright yellow. Her mouth tightened in anger, and Andra had the impression that she’d grown a few inches. The walls behind her pulsed with furious orange plumes among the bruised colors. “I am in my right mind, Theronai. Do not question my sanity. There can be no good end here. I seek only to prevent your suffering.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Someone must. The Sentinels need you more than I.”
“You’re the one I want to help,” said Andra.
Her tiny shoulders straightened in a pose of false confidence Andra knew only too well. “I am . . . expendable,” said Sibyl.
“No. You’re not. No child is.”
Sibyl smiled, but it wasn’t the smile of a child. It was too cunning and condescending for that. “What if I were to tell you that more than one child will die if you perish trying to save me?”
“You can’t possibly know that.”
“Ask Paul about what I cannot know,” said Sibyl, mocking Andra for her ignorance. “How many impossible things have you seen in your short time with Paul, young Theronai?”
The creepy little girl had a point, but that wasn’t going to change Andra’s mind. “I made a promise to bring you home, and that’s what I intend to do.”
“Ah, Gilda. Cunning wench,” she said with a note of approval in her tone. “She seeks only to protect her kind, but she has always made blind decisions. I wish I were so blessed with blindness.”
“She’s only trying to help you.”
“I need no more help from her.”
Okay, apparently there was some bad blood there. “Then let me help you,” said Andra.
“If you do, Paul will be by your side. But be warned that he views his life as no more important than a single grain of sand on the beach. There are many more just like him and the absence of one will go unnoticed. He will not hesitate to end his life so that yours may continue.”
My life for yours, he had vowed. She believed he meant it, but Andra wouldn’t let him die to save her.
“We’ll be careful,” said Andra.
“You should stay with your sister. My captors do not seek to harm me.”
“Then why take you?”
“Why indeed? Perhaps you should ask yourself that until you come to the same conclusion I have.”
“Which is?”
“Something you’ll have to figure out for yourself.” The child smiled, gave a negligent wave of her hand, and Andra was thrown from Sibyl’s mind without any option but to go. She flew through blackness until she landed with a thud inside her own head.
Slowly, she reconnected with her body and wished she hadn’t bothered. Fatigue swamped her, and her muscles were sore from prolonged shivering. She felt cold. Weak. Too tired to even bother opening her eyes.
“You okay?” asked Paul. His voice was harsh with controlled panic.
Andra made an affirmative grunting noise, but could do no more.
“You were out for way too long. I’m taking you to bed,” he told her, and she felt herself being lifted in his arms. Had she been able to open her mouth, she would have scolded him for treating her like a child, but as it was, she just didn’t have the strength to care. He was holding her and that was enough.
She had a little girl to save, and she was going to need every bit of help she could get.
