Part 10 (1/2)

4.

Sarah took off for the door. Her mother grabbed her, pulled her close. ”Hush now,” she whispered. ”There's nothing to do.”

”Let go of me!” she screamed, her eye twitching, the spastic muscle pulling at her cheek.

Sarah, not thinking at all anymore, spotted a patch of skin, sunk her teeth into it and her mother yelled, her grip softening just enough for Sarah to squirm out of her arms. She flashed out of the room before her mother could recapture her, sprinted down the hall, her bare feet slapping on the wood.

Later, after it all had happened, she would think back and this would be her last memory before the darkness.

5.

”Bring them down or we will go up and get them,” repeated Durham.

The man didn't budge. ”You will kill me before you do.”

”Oh yes,” said the preacher, capturing another step. ”'We will.”

Just then a girl burst out the door behind the man. She faced Nathaniel Durham. ”Leave us be!” she shrieked, and there was something about her voice that moved the mob to shuffle back.

William Pennerey watched her, both fascinated and frightened. She was a pretty thing, perhaps a bit tall for her age, but she moved extraordinarily well. And not only did she seem in exquisite control of her young body, but her presence had taken temporary control of the proceedings. Temporary because he'd never seen anyone challenge the preacher's will and get very far. And people had tried. Yet he had to give her credit: her anger-white-hot, deep and indignant-had thrown the men off balance.

”Go home,” she said, her body tense as a coil. Everything about her was a command. ”All of you.”

Still, her eye twitched.

6.

He didn't move to collect his daughter. In minutes, he wouldn't be able to anyway. She was losing control. They hadn't reached Daniel in time.

”I said,” Sarah continued. ”Go home.”

He backed up until he could feel the inn at his back. There was nothing to do. Glancing into the hotel, he wondered where the hotel woman was. She couldn't be waiting for a better moment.

7.

She wasn't waiting. Seconds after Sarah had escaped, the innkeeper's wife had made an appearance with the family shotgun, and corralled Sarah's mother back into the room. The hotel woman stood there silent now, the gun cradled over her arms like a newborn. Sarah's mother wondered if this woman and the innkeeper had been unable to bear children. Something about the way she held the gun and the plump dissatisfaction of her figure suggested her incompleteness.

”Why are you holding me?” she asked.

The fat woman's face pinched. Her eyes nearly vanished. Sweat lined her brow. ”Bill's with the preacher. Has been all night. The preacher thinks you're a danger to Tempest, so I'm doin' my part.”

”And how could we be a danger?”

”Well, you see, there was trouble over at Taylor's . . .”

But she had stopped listening. She'd been on this earth nearly two hundred years, and there had always been more than enough stupid people to go around. Couldn't reason with them, but throw a touch of the fear they enjoyed instilling in others back at them . . .

She smacked her palms into the mattress she sat on, rocking back and forth, her head down, her hair cascading over her face. They had fled Salem, then The Five Points, and they'd only just arrived here. She was done running.

The woman stepped back, her hands tightening on the long barrel of the gun.

Then she opened her mouth. Her stringy hair shook around her face like a collection of beads.

The woman tightened her fingers around the trigger.

Her head snapped to. Hair striped her face as she shook.

”Stop it, I'm telling you, I'll take off your-”

She snapped her jaws. The woman let out a yell as the gun was ripped from her hands. For a second it was suspended in midair, then it took off like a bullet itself, smas.h.i.+ng into the ceiling. The woman watched it a moment, then looked toward the open doorway. She started for it. But Sarah's mother followed her with her eyes. Untouched, the woman doubled over, the air whoos.h.i.+ng from her, and she crumpled to the floor. The gun wobbled against the ceiling, as if deciding whether or not to stay, then dropped beside her with a hollow clatter.

8.